Which meant Issac was partially liable for bringing him into the fold.
Tristan wouldn’t blame him. And neither would anyone else, really. But Issac held himself accountable. He would be in charge of delivering punishment to his progeny.
The question remained as to what the punishment would actually require.
Lucian not placing Mateo in the dungeon was an interesting tell. Perhaps he felt that Osiris had compelled his progeny. Issac wondered the same, but Mateo had been rather clear that his involvement in the matter was voluntary.
To protect them.
“Do you believe him?” Issac wondered out loud. “That he worked with Osiris to keep us safe?”
Tristan sipped his coffee, his expression giving nothing away. “I think Mateo would never hurt us. Either he was compelled, or his voluntary actions helped us in some way, thus justifying his participation.”
Issac agreed with a nod. Because that summarized his thoughts as well.
“I don’t think he knew about Amelia,” Tristan continued. “Jonathan keeping her, I mean. I don’t think he knew she was at the CRF all that time.”
A chill skated down Issac’s spine. “Did you ask him about it?”
“I didn’t,” Tristan replied. “Did you?”
“No.” And he should have. But he’d been more focused on Mateo’s involvement in Aidan’s death. “I’ll ask him.” Or he’d check with Lucian, as he’d likely inquired about it already. “Mateo said he primarily spoke to Osiris and only occasionally went through Jonathan. So it’s doubtful he knew about Amelia.”
“Did Osiris?” Tristan asked.
Issac’s jaw ticked. “Likely, yes.”
“Have you told her all this?”
“Not yet.” He’d prioritized Tristan, while Lucian had prioritized the Elders. “I should do.” His English accent always came out more when speaking to his best friend. A habit of their long history.
“Or I could do it,” Tristan offered. “Stas needs you right now. You can focus on her while I speak with Tom and Amelia.”
Issac considered him for a moment. “Did you just suggest a way to help me prioritize taking care of Aya?”
Tristan’s green eyes gave nothing away. “She’s your bonded mate and therefore a primary responsibility.”
Issac arched a brow. “Is that the only reason?”
His best friend’s gaze narrowed. “What are you playing at?”
“Just wondering if you’ve had a change of heart, is all.”
Tristan snorted. “She’s learning how to be useful. I can respect that.”
“Hmm,” Issac hummed, amused by the response. “I think you like her.”
“And I think you’re away with the fairies again, mate,” Tristan drawled, his Irish accent shining through his choice of phrasing. But a glimmer of humor colored his features, his lips quirking a bit at the sides.
He’d notoriously disapproved of Aya because of what her relationship with Issac had represented—death.
But now she wasn’t a threat.
If anything, she made Issac stronger.
“Hmm,” Issac repeated, setting his coffee to the side. “Well, she’ll be here any second now. So try to be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” Tristan drawled, adding his own mug to the same table as Issac’s. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, making a show of relaxing into the chair rather than sprinting for the door.
