“How so?”
“Well, for starters, we could nae remember Odessa gifting anything to our island,” Agatha grumbles. “I could nae even remember the last time she was here.”
I frown. “Really?”
“Aye. It took awhile, then I remembered it had to ha’ been when she sent back your mother’s throne after she had her new monstrosity created.”
“Wait, my mother’s throne wasn’t destroyed?”
Agatha crosses her arms over her chest. “That asphidra wasn’t stupid. Bryn was very beloved before she left and there woulda been an uprising if such a thing had occurred.”
Lachlan looks from Mina to Agatha. “Okay, then. Where did ye find the crystal?”
Mina looks at Agatha before murmuring, “She hid itinyour mom’s throne.”
“What?” I say flatly.
Mina fidgets with her fingers. “She had the seat replaced with a lid. We didn’t realize it until we tried to move it and one of the warriors’ fingers slipped and opened it.”
Flashes of a nightmare, I thought I had forgotten springforward. An image of my mom whispering ‘the throne.’Shit.I knew all along I just didn’t realize it. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as Artemisia and Marcus step closer.
“Lena,” Artemisia breathes, wrapping me up into an embrace. I hug her back, her riotous curly black hair smothers my face. “We heard you’re restoring magic.”
She releases me and I step back. “We have been.”
Her long flowing gown billows around her in the gentle wind. The green of it is a near match to the rolling hills behind her.
Marcus nods, and I notice his eyes are bloodshot. “Good. I’m glad.”
A tear slips down his cheek, and he moves quickly to wipe it away. He clears his throat, staunching the emotion that flows through him, and rolls his shoulders back. The morning light gleams off his chocolate brown leathers. He cuts a powerful figure and I catch a glimpse of the Roman legate he was in his past.
I reach out, clasping his hand and gripping it firmly. He is a good man, an honest man, and I feel sorry for him.
“This was not your fault, Marcus.”
He shakes his head, guilt weighing down his shoulders. Artemisia wraps a supportive arm around his waist. “Tell her.” Her voice is soft and coaxing.
Marcus swallows. “I’ve been trying to think of anything that might be useful for you. Anything I know about my son.”
“And?” Lachlan asks, stepping closer to me.
“At first I couldn’t think of anything. His birth was so long ago. But then it started coming back to me. His mother wasn’t from here. She claimed to be from Vanaheim.” My brow lowers in confusion, but then I remembered traveling between the realms was common before all of this. “She left Julius at my door with a note that said the women of her clan don’t raise male children. I tried to find her, but no one from Vanaheimknew who she was. I thought they refused to tell me out of respect for her. Time passed, and I didn’t think it was important. I raised my son as best as I could.”
“Shifters,” Lach growls. “I ha’ the feeling she wasna from Vanaheim at all.”
“Is it possible that he wasn’t yours?” I ask timidly, not wanting to kick a man while he’s down.
“No. I know he is mine.”
Marcus’ head hangs in defeat before he steels himself. He raises his head and I see the muscles in his jaw crackle with tension before he speaks again.
“He always had questions about her as a child. But I assumed that was normal. When he came of age, he set out to find her, and was gone for some time. I had prayed that he would find the answers he sought about who he was and where he came from outside of this place. But when he came back, well—he came back wrong. He had always been different. But he seemed angry. We never talked about what he found, or didn’t. I believed his anger was because he didn’t find her.”
Marcus lowers his head again, but this time, in acceptance. “I will accept any punishment you see fit.”
Artemisa gasps, her head whipping between Marcus and me.
“Punishment?”
