Eleni finally turned to fully face her niece, her eyes soft and gleaming wetly beneath the lantern’s glow. “But thenyoudid,agameni.And you should know,no matter what has happened between my brother and I, no matter how much time has passed, I adore you with all of my heart. I don’t have or truly evenwantmy own heirs, but I am fulfilled in the knowledge that you and Lyra are the closest thing I will ever have to daughters of myown.” She swallowed hard and pushed on a little quicker, as though this next part required a particular effort. “And you have the very same freedoms as your father, withnoneof the same obligations. I hope you understand that. Whether youwantour help in exploring your power, whether youwantto claim any part of the legacy that Silas turned away, that isyour choice,but—”
Adeline sank her face into her hands; she knew what was coming, and so did Kai. It all slotted together in his mind’s eye, one glimpse of a startlingly whole and obvious portrait of the Vanjir family history before Eleni confirmed it with another hard swallow and a bob of her head.
“Adeline—youaremy lawful Heir.”
???
Adeline’s rooms were set in the wide circumference of a large stone sundial. She’d needed his help to find it, whether because she was disoriented from Wielding, or reeling from Eleni’s many revelations, or simply exhausted; it was nearing three in the morning by the time they left the gardens. He saw her safely inside, and then hesitated, for just a moment, by the arched entry. It was long enough for Adeline to read him, even as she stood with her back turned, removing her jewellery by the glow of the few candles left alight on the vanity.
She turned partway over her shoulder, candlelight gilding her features and catching the gleam of tears that still clung to her downcast eyelashes.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, still not meeting his eye. “Please stay.”
Kai only nodded.
Even with all they’d done that evening, it felt presumptuous to undress before they slept. He took off his shoes and belt, and feigned interest in a framed oil painting of a rolling green vinyard as Adeline changed into her nightdress. When she’d settled beneath the covers, he carefully lay beside her. They lay there for a time, staring at the ceiling in silence for so long that Kai wondered if Adeline had fallen asleep—until he felt her shift and turn on her side.
“Kai?” she whispered.
He rolled toward her and found her face bathed in the silver-blue light of the moon that flooded the open balcony. Her cheek was cushioned on her hands, her eyes wide with a wired sort of exhaustion and her hair curled in cloudy tufts that curved over her softly furrowed brow, her tight jaw, her tensed shoulder.
“I’m Eleni’s heir.”
He nodded, and then, emboldened by the trust in her gaze and the very fact she’d asked him to stay the night, Kai reached out and brushed her curls back so he could cup her cheek. Her brow smoothed, and when she closed her eyes at his touch, something warm and reviving unfurled in his chest.
“I think I was my mother’s choice too,” she went on. “I mean—I think I would have been.”
“I think you’re right.”
Adeline opened her eyes; they were gleaming again, and that warmth in his chest turned all too quickly to ice.Adhlas.He’d spent so long in that same bitter state that it was difficult now to peel apart the feelings he’d come to associate with the cold. The rage and sorrow he’d felt at his own imprisonment was surelynot what he felt now watching Adeline fight back tears—and yet, it was. He was angry. Angryforher, angry that she had to bear anything close to the weight he’d struggled with for centuries. He recognised that specific sorrow, dense and unwieldy; he knew the texture of it. It was so overwhelming that it gleamed in her eyes and spilt over her cheeks as she shook her head.
“I don’t just think,” she whispered hoarsely. “She left me a letter.”
Kai stared.
“Selma named you as her heir … on paper?”
Adeline’s teeth worried at her lip for a moment before she nodded; she looked almost frightened. Then, rolling away from his touch, she sat up and rifled around on the nightstand. She passed him a piece of paper, soft with overlapping creases, a torn wax seal clinging to it’s centre. Adeline muttered something about a candle, but Kai caught a gentle hold of her arm before she could climb from the bed.
“I can see,” he told her gently, then tugged her closer. “Come here.”
Adeline melted easily into his side and stayed there as he read; the moonlight was not much different from the depths of the Laune—he could make out every word.
Adeline,
I received your note.
I’m afraid I haven’t much of an appetite for dessert tonight. Shocking, I know! I may retire early, however, I would very much appreciate it if you would join me in the morning. Your sister and I have had a long overdueconversation this afternoon, and now, my darling, you and I have much to confer.
This is something we must discuss in person, but I am happy to say that I know you now, Adeline, and knowing how perceptive you are, I don’t want you to lose sleep tonight. Mareda may have my stubborness, but you are sisters through and through, and you both share an endless grace that I so admire. That is how I know that she will forgive you; she will forgive us both.
Please don’t be afraid; this is a good thing, for us all. I hope you know how proud I am. How grateful. I hope you know, my darling Adeline, how very much I love you.
Looking forward to our chat. Perhaps you might bring some scones?
Mother
Kai’s withheld breath had swollen in his chest the further he read, and it pained him to release it as he spoke.
