Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drake arrived barely ten minutes later. Ianthe had gone to check on Louisa, so Lucien stalled his father's words and led him to the conservatory where he'd first taken tea with Ianthe. It seemed a lifetime since that meeting. How much things had changed.
"How is she?" Drake demanded the second the door had shut. He looked like he'd aged a decade overnight.
"Preparing herself for battle," Lucien replied. "Upset, of course, but holding herself together. I would not care to be Morgana when she gets her hands upon her."
"And she has... her daughter with her?"
"Our daughter," Lucien said softly. There was no surprise in his father's eyes.
"You knew."
Drake sighed. "Not at first. Several years ago, Ianthe saw you in the street and turned white as a ghost. She pointed you out to me as Louisa's father, and I realized then that the girl was of my blood."
Lucien strolled toward the orange tree, examining it, but seeing none of it. "Ianthe told me you were the one who insisted that she work with me to recover the blade."
"Yes."
"She thinks you did it to free me from Bedlam and help restore me to the Order's good graces, plus of course, there's the fact that you could be certain I wasn't involved, incarcerated as I was.
And if you're that good at pulling strings, one can imagine that you might possibly have meant to set us on a collision course with each other. " This time he looked up.
Drake eyed him steadily. "Ianthe needed to confront her past."
"One could say the same for me."
"One could."
"I dislike being pushed and pulled about."
With a sigh, Drake dragged out one of the wrought iron chairs and sank into it.
"I know you think the very worst of me, but the truth is the decision killed three birds with one stone.
It wasn't as though I was sitting there rubbing my hands together like some Machiavellian villain in some penny dreadful.
I had few resources, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.
I haven't particularly given it a great deal more thought, considering events, but sometimes you take a gamble. "
"With people's lives?"
"Yes," Drake snapped, "with people's lives. That's what a position of power means. It's not a privilege; it's a responsibility. If you want to take this up with me at a later time, pray do so, but to be honest, Lucien, I've got a great deal on my mind."
"Considering your ex-wife wants you dead and now has the means to do so."
A flash of something—pain?—shadowed his father's brow.
Then the man wiped his face free of expression.
"If Morgana wanted to cut my heart out with that Blade, then I would offer myself up willingly, if I could trust her to make a deal and uphold her end of it.
" He swallowed. "She has Eleanor, Lucien.
I know that means nothing to you, but to me, Eleanor is everything.
If I could trade myself for her, I would without a second's doubt. "
That dark head bowed with weariness. "I am what this position has forced me to become, but don't think for one second that it's easy to make these decisions.
I made a choice to let Eleanor do something risky, and now she is paying for it.
I don't even know if she's still alive..
. I feel the weight of that decision, as I do all of the others.
It will haunt me until the day I die, but I am Prime.
Either I make those decisions, or I sit and twiddle my thumbs while my enemies cut my feet out from under me, including all of those allied with me. "
Damn it. How could he hate this man in this moment, when Lucien knew exactly how he'd feel if Morgana had her hands on Ianthe?
Drake lifted a weary head. "May I ask, did my gamble pay off?"
"Yes," Lucien said tightly, "it did. I'm going to marry her."
"And restore some of Louisa's respectability and Ianthe's good name? That's very noble of you."
They stared at each other.
"Ah," Drake said, his eyes softening. "So it's like that, is it?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do." Drake pushed to his feet, as though he could see straight through him. He leaned heavily on his cane. "I knew you wouldn't hurt her, Lucien. You always owned a soft spot for those who had need and those in dire circumstances."
As if he had any inkling of the son he'd seeded or his personality. Lucien snorted and looked away.
"Do you think that I didn't care? Do you think I just turned my back on you for all those years?
I always had someone watching over you. Your governess, then your tutor, and finally, your sorcery Master.
Rathbourne either didn't care or he didn't know.
All of them delivered frequent reports on how you were as a boy and the type of man you were growing to be.
Through their words, I watched as you scored your first run at cricket, or that time you broke your arm protecting your friend from those bullies at Eton.
I was there when your powers finally came in, and it gave me great pleasure to know that you had a talent for both of your parent's gifts, wards and divination—"
Lucien cut him off with a sharp slash of his hand.
He couldn't hear this. He wouldn't. "The truth is, you might have watched over me, or you might not have, who knows?
But the fact is, you weren't there. All you were to me was a stranger.
Now I hear tales of prophecies explaining why you couldn't be in my life, and I find I have two brothers, two more men who mean nothing to me.
They, and you, feel like a memory I can't quite grasp, some detail right on the tip of my tongue. .. But ultimately, it doesn't matter."
"Then why are you here?" Drake asked in a tired voice. Hurt shone in his eyes, but Lucien turned away, refusing to see it.
Hell, he knew what it felt like. There was a gaping chasm in his chest, as if his heart had been ripped out years ago.
He didn't want to see the echo of it in his sire's eyes, or he feared the carefully leashed emotions inside him would come bubbling out in a spew of vile words and anger.
Would his own daughter think the same when she discovered he was her father?
For that's where Ianthe was right now, breaking the news to her.
He would have been there himself, but a part of him was outright terrified that Louisa would hate him.
"I am here because a dangerous relic has been placed in the hands of a madwoman," Lucien replied, nostrils flaring as he fought to contain harsher words.
"I am here because at the moment, I am nothing more than a burden to Ianthe, rather than an ally.
" Pausing by the windows, he stared out over the city sprawl.
Reticence loomed in his chest, but the truth had struck him last night, and though he'd fought with this decision all morning, he had found no other answer to his dilemma.
Pride was only costing him—and Ianthe. "Last night exacerbated a problem I've been dealing with.
Ever since the demon's assault, I've been.
.. highly sensitized." Lucien swallowed hard, looking down at his curled fists.
Exposing such a weakness felt like cutting out his heart all over again.
"I cannot utilize my power. I cannot protect Ianthe against her enemies, and I can't do anything to protect my own child if I am like this.
I–I don't know if I will ever be able to use my power again. Not fully."
His words fell into a chasm of silence.
"Then why ask me for help?"
"Ianthe said you might be able to help me. Your talent lies within wards, but it's rumored that you understand sorcery and the barriers a mind can put up against it."
Something brushed against his trouser leg, the same cat who'd been toying with Ianthe's skirts the first morning. Luc picked it up, feeling the warm purr against his chest. He still couldn't look at his father.
"The question isn't: can I help you? The question is more along the lines of: will you let me? I need to explore your aura, and that requires a great deal of trust. You need to open yourself up to a psychic probe."
Ash couldn't have tasted dryer in his mouth, but he didn't feel the Prime would ask this of him if it weren't necessary. "I'll try." He had Louisa and Ianthe to think of.
"You'll also need to describe the assault in full.
I need to understand what happened so I can perhaps treat the barriers your unconscious mind has put in place.
From the sounds of it, there was trauma involved, and perhaps your mind associates your power with pain.
Now, every time you try to channel your power, some part of you remembers what happens.
It's like forcing yourself to touch a hot frying pan after you've already burnt yourself badly.
You could be subconsciously stopping yourself from performing sorcerous works.
The mind is a powerful tool, and when sorcery comes from your will, your conscious mind, then it is like fighting yourself every time you try to wield it.
"It's also not the sort of thing that can be dealt with in a single afternoon either, Lucien.
This will require frequent visits and meditation to reroute the way your mind thinks when it comes to sorcery.
If you've subconsciously allied sorcery with pain, then it's going to take a great deal of effort to retrain yourself. "
These were words he understood. It was far easier to deal with fact, rather than emotion. Emotion had beaten him bloody over the past twelve hours. "Then I'm going to be of no use this afternoon?"
"It is unlikely that you will regain your abilities within the space of a day," Drake said carefully.
There it was. The truth. "I can't sit by and watch her walk into danger."
"Then don't," Drake replied. "Let me examine you. There's a possibility you could act as someone else's wellspring, if you're not mentally scarred too badly."