Maybe I have it mixed up in my head.
Maybe there never was enough time for Tau to have actually listened to my mother instead of fighting her and insisting he and his mages could protect us —
Under the table, Rath takes my hand. I allow myself to look away from Sedi, to glance over at him and to deliberately soften my expression. Gaze locked to mine, he grins. Just a small private moment between us.
Rought reaches over to the laptop and toggles off the microphone. “Do we need to do this right now?” he asks, face turned away from the camera so Sedi can’t read his lips. “Can you just message him instead of a face-to-face?”
“My apologies, Conduit,” Sedi says formally, not muted on her end. “The next time you call, I’ll be sure to —”
A hand lands on her shoulder. She presses her lips together, stifling a shudder under his touch, but I catch it in her expression. Almost everyone I touch reacts the same way. Then she slides out of her seat, giving her chair to the newcomer.
I find myself staring at my father, face-to-face for the first time in years. As far as my memory can tell me, he hasn’t aged a day since the first time I laid eyes on him. Dark haired, tall and slim, with violet eyes edged in violence.
Okay, that might be a little fanciful on my part. But I know what he can do with the immense power that runs through his veins. I watched him teleport into a room and drop the Cataclysm with a single word. A single word he presumed would instantly kill the interloper who murdered his lover. It hadn’t, but I now suspect that wasn’t due to any shortcoming on my father’s part.
“Zaya.”
He says my name like he loves me.
I just gaze back at him, memories of his face ricocheting around in my head. I’m not certain why it feels so raw, though I suspect it might have something to do with releasing the severed soul bonds and realizing how interconnected everything was from my mother’s death forward. From even before my mother’s death.
Perhaps this is just another task leveled on me by the universe — a push to say farewell to everything that once formed Zaya, and to welcome becoming the Conduit.
“Zaya?” he says again. His English is barely accented, but I remember how that accent thickens as he gets frustrated. “Tell me what you need. Then we’ll discuss where the fuck you’ve been and why you haven’t returned any important calls. Or messages.”
Rought snorts. “Bossy. No wonder she doesn’t want to call you daddy, brother.”
Rath half laughs, half chokes. “I’m not interested in filling the role.”
And just like that — and completely inappropriately, because it’s clear my father has no problem following the muted conversation given his deepening glower — I find myself smiling. Once again, I feel settled in my skin.
I reach forward and toggle the microphone on. “Zhen Qi,” I say formally. “These are my soul-bound mates, Rath and Rought.”
Zhen’s glower turns into a narrow-eyed frown. “I thought …”
“You thought that Disa disposed of them?”
He huffs. “I thought she discouraged the relationship, given her connection to their father. I didn’t know you were soul bound, to anyone.”
“In 1918, your family tried to take control of the North American intersection point the moment it transferred to Disa. The moment she became the Conduit.”
My father blinks, clearly thrown by the change in topic. “That’s … that was before my time, and I’m not certain it happened quite in that order. But yes. The Zhen … Dynasty wanted to ensure that the intersection points were always held by the strongest of the awry.”
“Wanted … past tense?” I ask, allowing myself to be diverted for a moment. Also, probably good information to have.
“I’ve … curtailed the practice. Your mother …” He swallows, dropping his gaze from me for the first time since he sat down. “I’m not certain you knew, but your mother and I were soul bound as well. But … the rivalry ran deep between the Gages and the Zhens.”
“Rivalry …” I echo, a little heavy on the sarcasm. Though I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to lose a soul-bound mate. And his daughter at the same time.
My father schools his features. “May I ask why it’s of such importance that you would break your vow of silence and actually reach out?”
“The intersection points are vulnerable through the transitions, yes?”
He nods. “If there isn’t a network in place … or the power isn’t voluntarily settled on the successor. And if the transition is abrupt.”
“The attempted takeover of the North American intersection point in the early twentieth century fucked with the political landscape of the entire continent.”
“It was unstable to begin with, but yes.”
