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“Be that as it may,” came his flat response, “I consider Luc to be mine.”
Blair’s eyes tightened as she observed Isaiah, a tingle of anticipation igniting in her blood at the claim. Contrary to past interactions, this one bore no hint of antagonism. Nina asked the question that’d been rumbling through Blair’s thoughts.
“Luc bears your clan mark, does he not?”
“He does. With it comes my protection.”
Sighing, Nina’s lips played at a smile. “Then he is fortunate, indeed, to have two Raeth sovereigns in his corner.”
“Indeed,” Isaiah echoed, his expression giving nothing away before turning to Kaien. “Have you healed?”
His frank question surprised them all, but Kaien wore none of it on his features. “I have.”
Isaiah nodded. “You saved Luc’s life. Had it not been for your quick action, Circe may have lost her mate.”
Ah.Thatwas why Isaiah was here.
Isaiah continued, inclining his chin as he leaned against the couch, his posture nonchalant but his dark eyes ever watchful. “Thank you, Kaien. It will not be forgotten.”
“Awfully benevolent of you, Isaiah.”
Nina could barely keep the wariness from her tone, her rigid posture giving away her unease at Isaiah’s proximity to her people. But even Blair could see that there was something about the other Raeth that had shifted—something that went far deeper than superficial change.
Sighing, Isaiah’s posture relaxed, his hands linking behind his back as he strolled toward the windows where Nina stood. “We are far more connected to each other’s clans than we ever have been previously, Nina.”
“Why?” she asked spitefully. “Because my brother’s mate is your adopted daughter’s mate’s sire? Six degrees, Isaiah.”
A corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. “Regardless, I’d like to extend the olive branch.”
Growling under her breath, Nina’s eyes narrowed. Even Blair, who’d heard of how Isaiah had thrown her sire under the bus, couldn’t overlook his past misdeeds, especially the one that’d so recently unfolded. Both she—and Kaien—held their tongues. Nina could fight her own battles.
“Kaien, would you excuse us for a moment?”
Kaien frowned but did as his sister asked, leaving the room with a backwards glance to Blair. With a single, apologetic smile, she told him that she’d be staying. Once he was out of earshot, Nina’s glare turned frigid.
“You told Ezekiel.”
Isaiah had the good sense to grimace. “I did.”
“Why did you reveal it when it was better left buried?”
Nina had admitted the indiscretion to Blair weeks after it’d happened. She’d explained that it’d been a momentary lapse in judgement on both of their parts. For two Raeths born of destruction, the mixing on kindred spirits was naturally explosive. Either one way … or the other.
It was why Nina and Isaiah typically avoided each other. Their counterparts, those born of creation, were far more amiable and garnered much less chance of an atomic blast.
Eyes darkening, Isaiah admitted, “After Jacob’s death, I was far worse off that you believed, Nina. I was affecting my clan through the psychic network and needed an outlet. Zeke was the only plausible course of action, and initially, he refused to spar with me. So, I used what motivation I could.”
The Raeth shot her an apologetic stare before continuing. “I apologize for my part in the disclosure, Nina, truly I do. And now you know that Zeke still cares for you.”
Blair shifted uneasily on her feet, but didn’t dare move. She could do nothing to halt this conversation, regardless of how harrowing it might be. Baring her teeth, Nina folded her arms across her chest and growled malevolently into the space between them.
“What business is it of yours?” she snapped. “Do you believe we’re now friends and confidants that you can give me advice, Isaiah?”
“No, but I was once where you were—separated from my fated mate and drowning in the suffering that followed. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
The frank answer surprised Blair. And it obviously shocked Nina.
Blair studied him, for once seeing the man behind the impenetrable mask Isaiah had so often donned. In the last year, he’d become so much more than he’d once been; the stark contrast to the spiteful man who’d spewed sarcasm at every opportunity.
