Blake’s voice carried a quiet warning. “No one knows who Yvonne truly is. That’s why she keeps a modest house and a low profile.”
I let that sink in, glancing around again at the simple home with its garden, the worn wood, the warmth of it all. “No one in your family knows?”
“No one alive,” Blake said.
Meaning Zayden, the other Twin Blade, had known.
“Zayden was the golden boy,” Yvonne said with a laugh, though it didn’t seem from humor.
“Our brother was kind,” Blake said, his voice raised slightly, defensively. “But he always did everything our father wanted. When ugly things happened, he would look the other way.”
My chest burned with injustice. “Even the disappearance of his own little sister?” I said, my voice low with disgust. I looked to Yvonne and took her hands in mine. Her skin was warm, calloused from hard work.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said. “No one deserves that. Especially not from their own family.”
For a moment, her eyes glistened. She squeezed my hands once, then let go and straightened. “I consider myself very fortunate. I have Blake. And I have Poppy.”
“Who is Poppy’s father then?” I asked. As usual, the words slipped out before I could stop them. I winced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Pain flashed across Yvonne’s face before she masked it. “No, it’s all right. Someone who dumped me and Poppy the moment a woman with more magic batted her eyes at him.”
I flicked a glance at Blake. “Where is he now?”
He said mildly, “He’s in the military. Somehow he got stationed in the far reaches of the dominion. Terrible place. Lots ofpredators. I hear the weather’s awful there, too.” Blake turned to his sister, his expression softening. “But indeed, Poppy is special.”
I smiled brighter. “She’s lovely.”
Blake hummed, and I looked up to find his face alight with one of the most beautiful, real smiles I’d ever seen on him. Dimple in evidence.
It made me soften just looking at it.
The gentle, domestic side of him feltreal, like it was his true self once the armor and responsibility were stripped away.
Yvonne looked back and forth between the two of us. She gave an exaggerated yawn. “Well, I can’t keep my eyes open. I’ll leave you two to clean your wounds and have a cup of tea.” She nodded to the bowl and bandages laid on the table now. “I made that cream myself. It should help with your cuts.”
“Sleep well, Yvonne.”
She stepped to me and gripped me in a tight hug, whispering in my ear quickly, “He talks about you all the time,” before leaving the kitchen.
29
“You should sit,” Blake said, gesturing to the wooden chair. “Let me look at your head.”
I didn’t move.
The soft image of him here was too sharp a contrast to the man I’d known on the training ground. It was difficult for my brain to reconcile the two.
Maybe he was all shades of gray and less black and white. Maybe he was yin and yang and balance—maybe he was both.
Was the real Blake Axefire actually the man in the moonlight I’d met only once?
“You have questions.”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes.
Blake grinned slightly, and even that felt strange. “Come and sit, Rubi. Let me tend your wounds and I’ll answer everything.”
Reluctantly, I sat and slipped my arms out onto the table. The gashes from the claws of the demon and the few slices from my mishandling the whip were starting to hurt.
