They had to rearrange the chairs, since the room clearly didn’t normally seat four people at once, but they made it work.
Yannoma stared into the fire for a long moment. Her hands were curled into fists, but then it looked like she made a conscious effort to straighten them out and appear more at ease.
A bit abruptly, she said, “Carnalions don’tfeelthe same way as humans. There are points of similarity, of course, but we don’t tend to… connect as humans do.”
Perian looked uncertainly at Brannal and then Trill. “I feel very… connected to Brannal, I assure you.”
She smiled faintly. “I don’t dispute that. Children of two worlds are a different case. They often bond with a single human, and they can be sustained by only one.”
Perian frowned faintly. “You’re saying you couldn’t survive here?”
She inclined her head. “No, not unless others did not surviveme. Or your little arrangement would have to be drastically altered. Carnalions need more energy more frequently thanchildren of two worlds. Human food does not sustain us. Drawing from one human would be a good way to kill them.”
It was why carnalions often ended up in or near a house of pleasure or similar environment.
“Were you all right while you were injured?” Perian asked with concern.
She nodded. “I… managed. I could still seduce people, though it took a great deal more effort. It is much harder to do if the person is not naturally attracted, and no one was attracted to me as I was. I consumed energy second-hand, which is never as good, but I survived. Once Trill was with me, he helped keep me fed. He could feed as normal, and then I would feed off him.”
There was silence for a long moment.
Perian’s head tilted to the side. “Wait, you consumed his energy?”
Yannoma nodded once more. “That is what carnalions do. Consume energy.”
“That’s… why he didn’t heal you,” Perian said slowly, a cross between a question and a statement.
“He couldn’t,” she agreed. “I consume all energy directed at me as a food source. It has minimal restorative powers, but nothing that could compare to my injury.”
Perian’s brow furrowed. “But I healed you.”
She licked her lips, one of the only nervous gestures Trill had ever seen in her. “You did. You are, in fact, the only person who ever could have. Because my body recognized your energy as its own and so allowed you to direct it.”
They stared at one another. Perian swallowed visibly.
“The fire,” he said finally. “It happened when I was seven?”
She nodded.
Tears spilled over Perian’s cheeks.
Yannoma’s hands twitched. “I never told your father. I feared he would have convinced me to stay here and it would havespelled our doom. Instead, I… disappeared. I thought it best for everyone.” She was silent for a long moment. “I would not have come for the Prince. I came for you.”
Oh, of course. That made so much more sense. She’d come when she’d realized where Trill was and who he was with.
It was Brannal who said, “You came in the hopes of being healed.”
His voice wasn’t quite accusatory, but it was a near thing.
Her eyes flashed, and she snapped, “Of course I hoped to be healed.”
Perian laid a hand on Brannal’s arm. “I would have tried to undo the damage regardless of any other circumstances.”
“I did not wish to present myself as anything I cannot be,” she told him. “I asked your father not to mention my visits. I knew I could not be a parental figure.”
“So instead, you gave him nothing at all,” Brannal said sternly.
She nodded but didn’t look away from Perian. “Just so. I have no wish to replace your father. I could not have stayed here alone on the estate. Your father envisioned a human life for you, and I respected that.”
