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“Tell me about this,” she said. “Tell me what you know.”
To his credit, once Henry decided, hedecided.The words gushed out of him like a geyser, and all she could do was listen quietly and brace herself for the successive blows of truth. It pained her to see him struggling over it, but Pearl understood it was up to him to get past it and see what she saw: someone who, despite the rigid teachings of his family and the violent nature of his giant side, still managed to be a man with fairness in mind and a compassionate heart.
“So, all these years and no one suspected a thing. Is it just Martin and me, then?”
“I don’t know. The books say nothing about who knows, but I’m guessing my living family doesn’t. You heard what Pampei said.”
A storm began inside her, focused on Verity but extending to others. Carlos. Gunther. Jake. That there were still decent ones like him and Ryan was a miracle, but…
“They can’t ever know,” she said firmly. “I think, at this point, your books and what we find out later are to be our only sources of information. If someone else knows, it’s up to them to reach out to you. But you can’t let on that you’re aware of this secret—at least, not yet.”
“Not until I’m fixed.”
“No, not until we know more and find a way to temper it. There’s nothing to fix,” she nearly snapped.
He searched her face at her vehemence, then softened and nodded. “Okay.”
“Moon’s a wolf shifter and he’s not supposed to be here. The same goes for Maddox. Not everyone’s like the Lyras.”
“They don’t pose a threat to the people here.”
“And you won’t,” she assured. “Pampei’s case is different.”
“Hmm.”
She could sense his doubt but let it go, her mind already elsewhere.
“So, you entered the throne room and broke some things, but the red hue didn’t see it as a threat.”
“Because I didn’t steal anything,” he reminded her.
“Or maybe it’s because it recognized your signature. A giant Henry is still a Lyra, the magic doesn’t leave your blood.”
Her head spun, but it couldn’t quite connect with the answer she wanted. Frustration glinted and he must have read it on her face.
“What are you on to, Pearl?”
“Nothing. I’m just thinking out loud.”
The shadow hadn’t triggered the hue, either, but it hadn’t been present in the recordings. Her hexes and security setup in the throne room were still untouched…but why was her gut telling her not to dismiss it?
“You’re thinking about the shadow,” he surmised.
“Yes. I don’t know. It could be connected, but maybe I’m the one overthinking now. I have to make more potions to see, but I don’t even know where to start. It’s a complicated matter.”
“Hmm.”
She kept going, voicing out concerns. She began to notice that his answers slowly dwindled into listlessness before it registered that he was slumped on the couch, head lolling. Pearl strolled over to check and gasped when her hand connected to his neck.
“Did you get fevers before?” she asked.
“No. I had fevers, but they were rare. I slept through them and Martin would just keep telling me that nothing eventful happened.” He sighed, sounding very tired.
“Good going, Martin,” she cheered before she braced her energy and pulled him up. Minutes later, she got him to crawl into his bed—but not without her in it, too, because Henry refused to let go. “Whatever happened to you wanting to stay away from me?”
But the complaint was mild, and he shut it down when he pulled her closer. Pearl held off for a while to administer a potion down his throat, then finally let him wrap his arm around her waist and urge her into a lying position.
“It’s not my strongest potion, but it works. You just need to rest, of course.”
