"Oh, Thea. That was never in any doubt." But she realized, looking at the girl, that it had been. Just not in Ianthe's mind. Had she ever been so young herself?
Her smile faded. Of course she had. "I tell you what, why not let us make this formal? I shall draft a document to take you on legally as my ward. I must do so for Louisa; you might as well become sisters in truth."
Thea swallowed hard. "Thank you."
As she hugged the girl, Ianthe caught Drake's eyes over the top of Thea's dark hair. He nodded, just once, but it was nice to know she was finally mastering the art of being Thea's tutor. There was so much more to it than spell craft, wards, and lessons.
"Girls, I promised you could see Ianthe when she was awake. Now, perhaps it's time to let her rest? It's been a strenuous couple of days. Maybe you could scurry down to the kitchens and see if you can get her something to eat?"
"Kisses first," Ianthe said, dragging Lou into her arms. The little girl clung to her, and Ianthe breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. "I missed you," she whispered, "and I promise we are going to have a lot of catching up to do once I've gotten my feet back under me."
Then she snagged Thea into the embrace, kissed her on the forehead, and told them to hurry and fetch her some breakfast, as she was now ravenous.
The door closed behind the two.
Ianthe swallowed. "I still feel like I don't know what to do. It terrifies me sometimes."
Drake crossed to the fireplace to give the coals there a poke. "That feeling never goes away, Ianthe. I think it's part of being a parent."
He wasn't saying something. "How is Eleanor?"
"Lucien's wound wasn't bleeding like Eleanor's was, strangely enough. We used the Chalice to heal her stab wound, but... the doctors believe she's suffered an apoplectic seizure. She cannot speak. She can barely feed herself, or dress herself, but she's there. I know she's there. I see her in those eyes when she looks at me, as if she wants me so desperately to understand her." He fell silent, toying with the hilt of the poker. "They think Ellie would do better if I committed her to a treatment facility."
"Oh, Drake," Ianthe whispered. "What are you going to do?"
"I am going to keep her here. I will look after her myself. I owe her nothing less. She... she only went into danger in order to protect me."
"And the Order?"
Drake turned toward her, face implacable. "I cannot remain Prime. I cannot split my attention between the Order's needs and my own anymore, and I'll be damned if, for once in my life, I don't give the right priority to those who need me, to my family. I intend to resign."
Ianthe's eyebrows arched. That was unheard of, but then, what man would resign from a position of such power?
"But what about Morgana? What about Tremayne? The Relics?"
"Morgana is dead. The house collapsed and she never emerged. Some of my men are excavating as we speak, but I expect that thorn in my side to have been buried. Tremayne, however, remains a problem. The second the tides of the battle turned against him, he commanded his remaining imps to overrun Agatha and Bishop, and then he fled. Bishop intends to hunt him down. The Relics? Well, Bishop still has the Chalice that Agatha gave to him, and the Blade was destroyed in the conflict. I'll set him to hunting for the Wand too. Morgana shall have hidden it somewhere, I presume."
She knew him too well. His bland recital hid something that he didn't want to discuss. Too bad. That was part of having this little ragtag family of theirs. "And Sebastian?"
Drake's gaze slid to the window, staring at nothing. "No sign of him. I suspect we will find him once the excavation has been completed."
"Oh, Drake, I'm so sorry."
"I knew it was too good to be true. I'd grieved for him for so long, that when I realized he was still alive..." His stiff, proud shoulders wilted slightly. "I–I couldn't save them all. I couldn't get to him in time, and Morgana... she stabbed him with the Blade. He would have bled out." He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself. "So you're asking the wrong person what it's like to be a parent. I'm the failure, Ianthe. Not you."
"You were never a failure, Drake. Not to me."
He smiled at her, but it was empty. "Thank you. And now that you've seen straight through me, I must return the favor. You haven't asked about Lucien."
How well they knew each other. "You told me he had bonded me. I assumed he was all right." She thought about it, feeling that faint psychic touch against her. "No. I know he's all right. Limping slightly and favoring his right foot, but the wound in his side seems perfectly whole."
"Do you wish to see him?"
Yes. Always yes. Lucien had become her entire life, filling her world with him. She couldn't wait to settle into an ordinary life with him and watch him love their daughter, and hopefully one day, herself. "Tell him I'll meet him in the orangery. Just let me dress first."
Lucien paced on the tiled floor, tapping his hat against his thigh. A little quiver plucked at the bond that he would wear forever, like fingers rippling over cellists' stings, and he turned, his breath catching at the sight of her.
Ianthe took a hesitant step inside the orangery, dark circles still shadowing her eyes. Her skin was pale against the lavender skirts she wore, but he thought, in that moment, that he'd never seen her so beautiful. Perhaps the near loss of her only served to emphasize how precious she'd become.
