Why hadn’t Dworkin or my mother ever told me? Why had I been forced to think of myself as an orphan all these years? It wasn’t fair! All through my childhood, I had longed for a father and brothers and sisters, longed for the sort of family everyone else had. Now it turned out I’d had brothers, sisters, and a living father all the time—only I’d never known it. I had been robbed of the family I could have had.
Why had my mother hidden the truth from me?
Why had I spent my childhood lonely and alone?
The next time I saw my new-found father, I intended to ask some hard questions. For now, though, I tried to hide my sudden realization. My siblings all acted as if I should have known the truth about my parentage. Well, let them continue to think so. I seemed to get more information when people assumed I knew more than I did, as with Freda in the carriage.
Suddenly I realized I’d missed an important thread of conversation. My attention snapped back to Aber.
My new-found brother was saying, “… and that’s what Locke claimed. I’m not sure he’s right, though.”
“Time will tell,” Blaise said.
Pella laughed. “That’s what you always say, dear. It hasn’t been true yet.”
Blaise, bristling like a cornered wolf, opened her mouth to say something I knew she’d regret, so quickly I jumped in with, “It’s nice to finally meet you all. How many more of us are here in Juniper now? Freda said something about a family gathering.”
“Nicely done, brother,” Aber said with a grin. “To answer your question and ignore the bickering”—he looked pointedly at Blaise and Pella—“there are fourteen family members present, including all of us.”
“Fourteen!” I exclaimed, unable to help myself.
Freda said, “I know it seems like a lot, but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble remembering all the names.”
“When will I see them?”
“Tonight at dinner, I’d imagine,” Aber said. “Fresh blood brings them out of the woodwork.”
“Aber!” Freda gave him a sharp look.
“Out from under the rugs?” he amended.
With a sigh, Freda said, “There is Anari.” She raised her hand and beckoned, jeweled fingers glittering, and an elderly man in red-and-white livery hurried to her side.
“Lady?” he asked.
“Take Lord Oberon upstairs and find him appropriate rooms,” she said. She fixed me with her brilliant smile. “I am sure he wants to rest and freshen up before dinner.”
“Yes, please,” I said. Much as I hated leaving the liquor cart, a nap and a wash basin sounded more appealing right now. It sounded like I’d need to be ready for a long evening tonight, with fourteen new-found relatives waiting to inspect my every word and gesture.
And Freda had called me “Lord Oberon,” I noticed. It was a title I knew I could get used to.
“This way, Lord,” Anari said, heading toward the door.
“Until dinner, then.” Giving my four siblings a polite wave, I turned to follow Anari.
Behind me, I heard Blaise’s tittering laugh and an almost breathless exclamation of, “Isn’t he precious?” that made my cheeks burn. No one had ever called me “precious” before. I wasn’t sure I would have liked it coming from a woman I’d bedded, and I certainly didn’t like it coming from my sister—or half-sister, since we could not possibly have shared the same mother.
Still, precious or not, I had done my best here. I had been raised a soldier, after all, and I wasn’t used to niceties of polite society or court life, whether they were mine by blood-right or not. As always, I’d do the best I could and they could either accept me, rough edges and all, or not. Either way, we would still be a family.
“Please follow me, Lord,” said Anari, turning to the left and starting up a wide set of stairs at a slow, deliberate pace.
“What’s your job here?” I asked.
“I am chief of the domestics, Lord. I manage the house and servants.”
I nodded. “How long have you served my father?”
“All my life, Lord.”
“No, not my family… just my father, Dworkin.”
“It has been my privilege to serve Lord Dworkin all my seventy-six years, as my father and my father’s father served him before me.”
“That would make him…” I frowned, trying to add up the years. “More than a hundred and fifty years old!”
“Yes, Lord.”
I shivered, suddenly and inexplicably unsettled. I must have misheard, I thought. No one lived a hundred and fifty years. But Anari had said it so matter-of-factly he clearly believed and accepted it as a matter of course.
Although Dworkin hadn’t looked more than fifty when he first came to Helda’s door, now that I thought about it, he had looked distinctly younger than that when we had fought the hell-creatures.
More magic, I thought. Would it never end?
Anari led me up two flights of steps to a wing of the building devoted to, as he said, my family’s private quarters. All around me I saw symbols of great wealth and power. Not just paintings and tapestries of the sort I’d seen below, but intricate mosaics set in the floor, beautifully carved statues of nymphs and nude women in alcoves, crystal chandeliers and wall sconces, and gilded woodwork everywhere. Over the decades—or centuries—of his life, Dworkin had accumulated treasures enough for a dozen kingdoms.
“These will be your rooms, Lord,” Anari said, stopping before a large double door. “I trust you will find them acceptable.”
He pushed them open—and I found myself standing before what seemed to me a private palace.
Rich red-and-gold carpets covered the floors in thick, luxurious layers. Beautiful paintings and hanging tapestries covered the walls, showing fairy tale scenes with mythical creatures. Overhead, gilded columns and crown moldings supported a ceiling painted in pastel blues, with high clouds and even a few swooping hawks in one corner. Three elegantly upholstered chairs clustered around a small table to the far right. To the left, on the other wall, sat a small writing table complete with pens, ink, paper, sealing wax and seals, and a blotter.
“Your bed chamber is through here,” Anari said, stepping into the room and opening another set of doors set in an arched doorway. Through it I could see a high canopied bed and a full-length looking glass, plus a wash stand with pitcher and basin. “There are two wardrobes and a changing room as well.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Lord. Do you have baggage?”
“Nothing but my sword and the clothes on my back.”
He stepped back and looked me over critically. “I believe I can find you suitable garments for tonight,” he said. “I will make an appointment for one of the castle tailors to measure you tomorrow morning. We cannot have a man of your stature improperly furnished, after all.”
“Indeed,” I said agreeably, as if I had this sort of conversation every day. “I’ll leave the appointment up to you. Schedule it as late in the morning as possible.”
“Thank you, Lord.” He bowed slightly. “I will endeavor to live up to your faith in my abilities. In the meantime, with your permission, I will order a bath drawn and heated.”
“Please.”