Once Mardichi had gone, Sebastian averted his full attention to the woman sitting on the divan next to him. “How’d you know?”

“I sensed you in him.” Her brows shot up.

Surprised by the question, it appears.

“I felt the same essence. His eyes are yours. Gold and feral when he’s incited. He’s your son.”

“I see that now.”

“Why?”

Why’d I dally with a married queen? He sighed.

“I suspect you already know. You know me well, Els.”

“Boredom?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t her you were dallying with. It was the king.”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew when he found out, he’d come for you. He’d want you dead. And he’d bring an army to accomplish it.”

“Yes, Elsabet. That is likely why.” He paused thoughtfully. “But she was also dear to me.”

“You loved her?” Elsabet arose. Walking from the parlor.

“I wanted to.” He followed her mechanically. Conversing with her.

“Did she want you to?” Elsabet glanced over her shoulder at him a few steps lower than she. Blue eyes were awash with emotion and she chewed a full lower lip anxiously.

“She did. But you’ve nothing to fear, My Mate. My feeling for you is far deeper than any before.”

She stopped and turned to see him. Hand on the railing as her gaze roved his face, unsure.

She’s unconvinced.

“Look all you need.” He encouraged.

There’s no lie. No deceit in what I say to her.

“The 1600s were ugly years for me.” He admitted. “I was ugly. And in 1692 I met Jerica Ocnomad and began a grand affair with her which continued several years. Until she’d have no more of me in 1694. I wondered what gave her the strength…”

“Her need to hide that her child was yours. She’d have known you’d never leave it well enough alone and the King would bring your demise.”

“If that’s what she thought, she was right.” His gaze fell. “I would’ve. I’d never have let him grow alone.”

“But he did.” She said softly. “You’ve much amends to make. He’s like you…He warrants knowing.”

“He’s an assassin.” Bast grumbled in complaint.

“One with honor that keeps a rein on the others. I’d say what he does is out of necessity more than joy, would you not?”

He grunted. Seeing the wisdom in her words. She’s always bright.

“The king wants to kill him now because he’s your bastard son.” She said softly.

“No.” Bast’s brows lifted and his eyes widened as realization dawned. “The king wants to kill my bastard because he’s the heir to the Grier thrown.”

“What?” Elsabet asked in confusion.

“But he is legitimately the queen’s son not yours.”

“As is the lineage of Grier. She was the princess whom married the Lord.” Bast explained. Knowing Elsabet had originated from the Isle and knew little of such things. “It’s the only country where the heirs are traced through their mothers. Not the kings. Though he rules. She generates the heir whether with her King or another.”

Elsabet’s jaw gaped in shock. “You’ve born a King!”

“But does he know that?” Bast queried.

“Did you talk to that man?” She blinked at Bast. “I’m not certain I’ve talked to anyone more shrewd. I’d doubt there’s much he misses.”

Slightly insulting. But true nonetheless…

Bast tilted his head grudgingly. He’s certainly formidable.

“What do you suppose made him so cold?”

“He said much while fevered. Muttering in half-sleep.”

“What’d he say?” Bast was drowning in curiosity.

“The king thought him too feral, so he buried him in the Citadel dungeons.”

“And?”

She blew a long breath and slid down to sit on the stairs.

Sad for him. Bast recognized.

Her and her tender heart. It made his warm at her hidden kindnesses.

“He refused to die.” She said under her breath. “So, the King paid an assassin to drown him in the NetherRunnel.”

“And Jerica allowed it?” He was astounded and angered.

Elsabet gave a half shrug. “Who knows what she was told. But she dressed the boy in finery and sent him on his way…A last farewell. Or so he presumes…”

“How was he spared?” Bast queried. Puzzled.

“He said he suspects his mother leaked his potential murder to Radix Malorum and he intervened to save Savage Jack.” She quoted mechanically what the man had muttered in his fevers.

Savage Jack. Bast turned it over in his mind.

“What do you suppose his name really is?” Bast pondered aloud.

“No idea.” She stood on the steps. Tilting her head to peer up the stairs over her shoulder. “Mardichi!”

He stepped from the corner at the top of the stairs. Thick arms crossed over the expanse of his chest. “Yes?”

She sensed him lurking there. I’d thought he left.

“You were listening in?” Bast scowled.

“Ever delicious word!” Mardichi said unabashedly. “Quite the gossip, truly.”

Bast looked displeased.

Elsabet didn’t miss a beat. “Do you know his real name.”

“Jaxson.” Madichi supplied. “Not sure of anything else.”

“Jaxson Ocnomad.” Bast murmured.

“I dunnot think he’d ever accept tha’ name.” Mardichi blanched. “Ye’d ‘ave better luck settin’ the sun than gettin’ ‘im ta do anythin’ he’s not of a mind ta.”

What does he want? Bast wondered.

“He’s the one that’s been after my taverns all these years.” Bast said. “S.J.”

Mardichi nodded thoughtfully. “Savage Jack. Me noticed tha’ awhile back when me saw the tavern keep slip ye the note.”

“Why does he want them?”

“Not a clue.” Mardichi straightened. “But there’s always a reason with him. He wastes no motion. Ever.”

“I was getting that.” Bast stared at the door where the younger man had gone. Tempted to follow him. He looked up at Elsabet as he considered it.

Her hand still lightly slung on the railing. “Go.”

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