"How did you know who I was?" Sebastian asked. "You recognized me."
Did he not know? Eleanor searched his eyes, but there was nothing but deadness there. "You are your father's mirror."
That made him stir. Sebastian poured her another glass of water, as if his actions could hide the flash of curiosity and uncertainty she saw in his eyes. "And you are his lover?"
Eleanor managed a weak smile that split her lip again. "Yes." It was the easiest answer. How did one explain that one man could be the other half of you? "You do not know how pleased he would be to know of you. He thought... we all thought you were dead."
Sebastian handed her the glass. "Why would he think me dead?"
"Your mother left a note for him, claiming that she'd used poison to remove you from her body. There was no reason not to believe her, as there were remains, as well."
"And why would he be pleased to know otherwise?"
"W-what do you mean? Drake's your father. You do not know how much he grieved for what he thought your mother had done. He's always born the guilt of it—that if he hadn't pushed through the divorce, Morgana might have stayed her hand."
Sebastian considered her for a long moment. "They're very pretty words. Were you practicing them?"
Eleanor sat up and regretted it. Her ribs were still tender. "I know why you feel such a thing. After all, I knew your mother; we did our apprenticeships together. Not everyone sees the world the way Morgana does—as if people are an enemy to be suppressed before they can cause her harm. I know she was most likely not a kindly woman. Your father, however... all he has ever wanted is to be a father, and yet he's never had the chance. You would be a gift to him."
There was nothing in his face to indicate her words had struck a nerve. It bothered her.
"You have two half-brothers, did you know that?" A bold move, but Eleanor wanted him to feel something; she needed to see if there was any part of his father inside him, or if he was merely his mother's puppet.
Sebastian's chin lifted in surprise, but that emotion was short-lived. "Do I?"
"Though you are the only one who was born within the grounds of marriage."
"Bastards then. Who?"
"The youngest is Adrian Bishop, a talented sorcerer, and the eldest is Lucien Devereaux, Lord Rathbourne—"
"Rathbourne? If you seek to turn me to my father's arms, then you've made a grave mistake. I know he put that bastard into Bedlam. You think my father sounds any better than my mother?"
"Rathbourne summoned a demon," Eleanor said. "He's lucky he wasn't executed. Bedlam was the only alternative the Order's Council would accept." Setting the water down, she rested her arms on her knees. "And now he's out. Rathbourne's trying to help your father find the Blade of Altarrh."
Sebastian glanced sideways. Reaching out, Eleanor extended her fingers toward the collar that gleamed at his throat. Before she could reach it, hard fingers locked around her wrist.
"Don't," Sebastian said.
"Do you want to know why I was visiting Tremayne's estate?" she asked.
"You'd tell me, when you deny that information to my mother or Tremayne, even when they're flogging you?"
"I think I can trust you. I don't think you'll want your mother to know the answer to that question any more than I do."
"And I think you like to gamble, Mrs. Ross."
Eleanor smiled. "I'm very good at it. I'm also very good at understanding who a person is."
"Then you know me better than my own mother does." It was said with a faint sneer. "Or think you do."
"Possibly." She pulled at his grip, and he let her go. "Your father received a poorly written letter from a young woman asking for his help. She'd recently met a young male sorcerer who was collared. She offered to help the Prime with a certain conspiracy, if Drake pledged to locate and emancipate this young man. There was no way that Drake could get to her on Tremayne's estate, so I came instead."
There was his emotion, quickly suppressed in a flash of dark eyes. Sebastian stood, turning away from her and lacing his hands behind his back. All those years apart, and yet he echoed his father's posture, a sign of severe emotional turmoil. It gave her some sign of hope that there was more of his father in him than his mother.
Eleanor's voice fell to a whisper. "I think you know who that young lady is."
"Tremayne will kill her if he knows she betrayed him." His nostrils flared as he turned back to her. "And she doesn't even know what manner of man she lives with! Bloody hell, what was she thinking?"
