She mentally added several notches to the level of danger he represented.
"I would prefer people I trust to serve in the role of heroshota," Liara said, her gaze lingering on Finn where he slouched against the wall. He didn't look away from Liara's guard, studying him with a hawk-like intensity. It was a look the other man returned, both men's faces locked in blank masks as they regarded each other.
"I don't care. You lost your right to decide when an assassin took aim," Graydon said. "Finn has Luathan lineage. He is acceptable."
"He's also Roake and has already failed once as a shield. We allowed him entrance into our House because we remember the sacrifice his mother’s mother’s mother made for us and wanted to bring his line back to ours," the guard returned. "He's can't be fully trusted with the protection of someone as important as the child."
"I trust him," Graydon said. "That's enough."
"He wants someone who knows what they're doing with a weapon," Finn said, tilting his head at the sword the guard had grasped. "Draw it and I'll demonstrate my meaning."
Kira stirred. "That's enough. I’ve had enough violence for the evening. If we're done here, I'm going to bed."
Somehow, she didn't think Finn beating up Liara's guard would endear her to her cousin. She didn't need anything else working against her.
Liara stood. "Please. Stay. These quarters are meant for the direct family. I can protect you better here."
Kira paused. Her cousin's face reflected the first glimpse of real emotion since she'd arrived. There was pleading there.
Kira hesitated, her glance going back to the painting above Liara.
The Overlord noticed where she was looking. “She was your mother.”
Kira absorbed those words, unable to take her eyes off the woman who’d given birth to her. She’d half-convinced herself she’d been wrong about those eyes.
“What was her name?” Kira asked softly.
“Liliana.” Liara watched her carefully, looking for some break in Kira’s mask, an indication she cared.
Kira did care—more than she wanted to admit—but she didn’t allow any evidence of the turmoil filling her to touch her expression. Kira refused to give her cousin any leverage against her.
“She was a special existence to me. There was no one else like her,” Liara said, glancing up at the painting, a soft expression on her face. “My mother was the Overlord and didn’t always have time for me. My aunt filled in for that role. At least before she left us to marry your father.”
Kira’s expression was blank as she listened. It was so odd to be staring at this stranger who was not a stranger at all.
Over the years, she’d had so many conflicting emotions toward the people who were her parents. They’d run the gamut between hatred for allowing her to fall into the hands of monsters and longing for the love that could have been hers.
“She was so happy when you were born,” Liara said. “She called you her gift. You became her whole world.”
“And my father?”
There was a pause. “His name was Harding. I did not know him well.”
Kira looked away from the painting, pinning her cousin with a look. “What happened to them?”
How had they let Kira be taken was her real question.
Liara hesitated, pain flickering across her face. “They both died during the Sorrowing.” Seeing the question on Kira’s face, Liara offered, “It’s what we call the night when many of our Houses were attacked and our children stolen. It was a devastating time for many of us.”
Kira concealed her flinch, looking away instead.
“Your mother was killed trying to protect you,” Liara offered.
Kira turned away from the painting. She rubbed the ache behind her breastbone. It burned, creeping its way up toward her throat. She didn’t want to hear any more about this.
She glanced at Graydon. His expression was neutral, no sign of his thoughts on what Liara had revealed. Kira supposed this was old news to him. He’d indicated he knew her parentage after Liara revealed their relationship as cousins.
Kira shook off the dark thoughts, forcing herself to consider Liara’s previous offer. Going down the dark roads of the past wouldn’t help her now. It would only lead to distraction and heartache, neither of which she had time to indulge.
