Page 79 of The Rose in the Shadows

I wanted to question where in all of creation he wanted to take me. I wanted to warn him that the Council wouldn’t like it, and the court would talk about how many customs we were breaking by constantly being alone together. I wanted to remind him that our relationship could ultimately go nowhere, despite how he might feel for me.

I wanted to tell him what I felt for him.

But I didn’t fully understand that myself. So, instead, I only nodded.

Iknew where I was going because I knew why I was here.

To see him.

He waited for me at the table like always, but tonight, the table had been set with a meal for two. Tonight, he smiled pleasantly. That shouldn’t surprise me. Our conversations weren’t always quite so contentious. Some nights, he merely spoke to me of my day. We talked of my developing powers, and he even helped me gain better control over them. He was certainly opinionated about Clay and whatever buddingrelationship I had with him, but regardless, I’d come to see the stranger as somewhat of a mentor.

“I still don’t know your name,” I reminded him as I sat across from him and eagerly pulled the glass of wine to me. After a day like today, the bitter taste was almost necessary.

“Names are meaningless,” he scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “They’re nothing more than titles given to you by other people.”

“Not mine,” I reminded him somewhat playfully, thinking back to the day in the hospital when I had spit out the name of a nurse when I’d been unable to recall my own.

He grinned. “Yes, Theodora. I suppose you chose your own title. At least that one.”

“Have I others?” I frowned.

“Don’t we all?”

He stood suddenly, rounding the table to stand behind me. Without a word, he pulled my hair aside so my back in the low-cut shift was visible. He looked over it quietly, running a finger across one of the marks there and huffing in disgust.

“I shouldn’t be surprised a descendent of Zion could show such violence towards you.”

“It has nothing to do with his bloodline and everything to do with who he is as a man.”

He scoffed, letting my hair fall free once more before he resumed his seat at the table.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it is a matter of both. Perhaps biases and hatred are passed down just as easily as the color of your hair or the nature of your magic.”

“So what did I inherit from my ancestor, hmm?”

The man’s eyes danced as he chuckled. “A great many things, I suspect. Although, apparently not his instinctual aversion to House Zion.”

Taking a deep breath, I shrugged. Sure, a Descendant of Zion had done this to me, but that didn’t mean the entire line was out to get me. I had to believe that each person had the power to control their fate and actions.

“You’re trusting,” he noted. “There’s nothing wrong with that. But you must consider who deserves your trust if you’re going to keep yourself safe. There is someone who wants you dead, Theadora. And now, a descendent of Zion, the leader of his house, has outwardly moved against you. He has brought this pain down upon you. In the days when the Gods walked freely between the realms, that would not be allowed to go unanswered.”

I shivered, imagining those days. How would Hyrax have responded to a son of Zion doing this to a daughter of Hyrax? Would it have mattered to him? Or would it have mattered so much that it started yet another war between the houses?

“The Gods have left us,” I reminded him. “They do not rule the Mortal Realm. I have to handle this on my own.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his wine pensively. “It’s possible that you are wiser than I am. It is also possible that I am right, though, and every Descendant of Zion is an enemy of every Descendant of Hyrax.”

His voice dripped with double meaning, and I thought back to our previous conversations. To his prior warnings.

“Clay would never hurt me.”

“I know you believe that.” His voice was soft, concerned. “But I don’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ididn’t see Nessira and Geia until the following day, when they woke me early after the sun had risen in the East. I clung to their hands, pulling them into the bed with me as tears came freely.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. “Are you okay?”

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