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“I can’t. I can’t have children.” She looked down at her hands. “My family...the women are barren. Our brothers can sire children. We women cannot bear them.”

“A family defect?” asked the Count quietly.

She nodded. “Yes. We’re...incomplete. Goes back a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” murmured Maelin.

Darady’s chin came up. “A lot of people were sorry. Only a few wanted to do something about it, but before they could, they were destroyed.”

Phineas’ eyes narrowed. “The Rhovan. They were going to help, weren’t they?”

Darady looked him, something fierce flickering behind her eyes. “They were. Yes. Their work...there were plans made, details being finalised, and not just for us, for a lot of other people who had different problems. Regeneration projects, fertility...even the ability of human flesh to change, to repair itself.” She snorted. “We have no idea what they could have accomplished. If they hadn’t been destroyed, women like me could have had children...” Her gaze drifted to Maelin. “And not have to pretend another child was their own.”

“But the Rhovan, Darady. They weren’t...human,” said Maelin.

“That’s as maybe, but they weren’t the monsters people still make them out to be.” She shrugged. “You’ll see. Someday you’ll see, and understand.”

“Are they coming back, Darady?” The Count’s voice was even, in spite of the importance of the question. “Do you think we’ll see them return? After all, there were four victims in the Gloamtide with body parts removed...in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of the old Rhovan accounts.”

The older woman straightened and once again, her chin rose. “There are always losses. But if the work is important enough? ’Tis the price that has to be paid.”

“Oh Darady,” Maelin’s voice nearly broke.

“I’d never have hurt you for the world, Miss Mae. I love you. You know that.”

“I thought I did. But it’s difficult hearing that you believe four deaths—deaths for which you bear a lot of responsibility—are merely ‘losses’.”

Darady lowered her head for the first time. “I never wanted you to know, dearie. Ever. Still wish you hadn’t found out, because I love you like my own.” A couple of tears plopped onto the chains binding her to the table.

The room was silent for a few moments.

Then the Count shifted in his chair. “Darady, this will go easier on you if you tell us who you gave the papers to. Who has been in touch with you about the Rhovan, and who told you which Velvet House member to lure out to their deaths.”

Her head rose and she stared at all of them

For the first time, Maelin could see harsh and cold determination in that gaze, a brief glimpse of a woman she didn’t recognise.

“It would go easier with all of you if you pushed away the nonsense that surrounds you. Open those records, open the doors to knowledge that should have been here all along. Bring back the Rhovan work and start living the life that should have been ours generations ago.”

The Count sighed. “I’ll take that as a no.” He pushed away from the table. “This meeting, such as it is, is now over.”

The two guards returned, and as they unfastened Darady, she looked at Maelin one more time. “I’m sorry, dearie. Never doubt that I’ve loved you every minute since the first time I ever saw you. And I always will.”

Maelin stood and nodded, the lump in her throat too large to permit speech.

She watched them lead Darady away in silence.

Then turned to her uncle and sobbed in his arms.

Epilogue

Cyrus found himself at a bit of a loss as to how to comfort Maelin.

She’d emerged from the room tearstained and as pale as he’d ever seen her. But she’d released her Uncle’s arm and walked into his without hesitation.

So he simply held her, tightly, spreading his hands over her back in an attempt to warm her, to ease the agony he could sense shimmering throughout her body.

“Let’s go home, Mae,” he murmured.