Page 73 of Joined By Magic

Magic sparked, streaking toward the prince from the other side of the room. An orange blast. It hit his shield and dissipated without much impact. The prince retaliated, a thick, concussive blast of power surging out of him. It slammed into the chest of an old man I didn’t recognize, who dropped with a cry.

“Dad!” Leopold yelled.

Three women fell to their knees around the fallen man.

A big blond man with shaggy hair flew to his feet, weapon trained on the prince.

“Damien! No, he’ll kill you. Drop the gun.” Leopold. His voice still rang with command.

The blond man hesitated, then flung his gun to the floor. Within seconds, the prince had him tied up too.

“Adante.” Leopold locked eyes with him. “That’s my adoptive father. He’s innocent in all this. Please get him medical attention.”

Unwanted sympathy crept into my chest at the quiet desperation in Leopold’s tone. Stripped of everything, he cared enough about his dad to beg for mercy. My heart lurched.

The prince considered him. “Are you going to cooperate and answer my questions?”

“Yes. Please.”

The prince waved a hand. “Do it.”

He glared at the crowd until they came to life and set into motion. The old habit of obedience returned fast. The prince addressed the soldiers. “Get the rest of Leopold’s group secured. Garron too. I want to speak with him the instant he awakens.” He turned to Leopold. “Where’s the king?”

My gaze landed on one of the women crouched around Leopold’s adoptive father. Something about the woman’s hair, her sturdy shape, made me pause. She turned, showing her profile, and my chest tightened, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. No . . . It couldn’t be.

The woman’s face lit with joy. She got to her feet.

I took a step toward her, then another. The prince said something, but I couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in my head, the pounding of blood in my ears.

“Mum?”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Talia

Ifoughttokeepmyself together. Tidal waves of joy and confusion battered me. How? How was it possible? A guard stepped up to my mum and gripped her arm. I shot forward. “Get your hands off her. That’s my mother!”

The guard turned to the prince for instruction. “Your Highness?”

The prince looked between my mum and me, brows lowered. “What is this?”

Mum locked eyes with the prince. “Your Highness, if I might explain—”

“Helen?” Livet asked from her position on the floor. “What’s she talking about?”

I glared at her, sudden fury and irrational jealousy shooting up at the betrayal on Livet’s face. “Her name is Hestia, and keep your mouth shut!”

Livet clamped her lips together and shared a look with her husband. The whole foreign group were disturbed, all confusion and angry glances. What was Mum to them? How did they know her?

Commotion swirled around us, but it dimmed to a background drone as I looked at Mum again and the anger washed away. I gripped her hands, and we fell into a tight embrace. Tears threatened to overflow, but I suppressed them. Not here, in front of everyone. Mum showed no such restraint. She clutched my back and cried loud, gasping sobs.

Her arms loosened and she pulled away, her face red and blotchy, tracked with tears. She studied me as though I were a mirage, something beautiful that could disappear if she blinked. Her hand stroked through my hair, then rubbed a spot of wetness from my cheek. One tear had escaped, then.

“Talia.” Her voice was thick, breath still hitching in rough gasps. “When I saw you were on the run, I was so afraid—”

“I thought you were dead!” It came out a shrill screech, and Mum flinched. “For years, I thought you were dead.”

The prince loomed. “Explain this. Now.”

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