Page 27 of Prince of the Undying

On the left, my mother looked out with shadowed eyes and a mysterious smile.

On the right, a pale-haired man stared gravely at the camera.

My father, Leo.

But Leo couldn’t be his real name. He had revealed little to my mother during the fleeting time they had been together.

Including the double-headed eagle tattooed on the back of his neck.

When I was younger, I dreamed this eagle would lead me straight to my father, but it could belong to any number of empires or kingdoms. Everyone from the Byzantines to the Russians seemed fond of the symbol.

I sighed, a brief indulgence of sadness, and hid the locket once more.

“May I join you?”

Wendel rested his hand on the chair opposite me. He had an expression of mild interest. Morning sunlight slanted through the windows and glinted in his eyes. I lost a moment marveling at their greenness.

Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

I shook the newspaper straight with a snap. “Of course.”

Sitting, he unfolded his napkin. “I would say good morning, but I think we both got too little sleep for that to be true.”

Silently, I stared at the newspaper without reading it. Anger still simmered inside me from our earlier skirmish.

Go fuck yourself.

Is that an invitation?

“Let me apologize for being unnecessarily rude.” A smile quirked his mouth. “Or necessarily rude.”

“Did you come here to joke?”

“No.” Wendel sobered. “Damn, let me try again.” He stared out the window.

“I’m waiting,” I said coolly.

“I’m not used to anyone wanting to touch me, but it was wrong of me to imply desperation on your behalf. I’m sorry.”

He sounded so sincere that it was impossible to stay angry at him. But of course he had dodged around the truth: I had gonefar beyond touching him. Remembering our kiss evoked shivers down my spine.

“Truce?” He offered his hand to me. He had a half-smile on his face, but his pale eyes said so much more.

I gave him a brisk handshake, the safest option. “I wasn’t aware we were at war.”

His half-smile became a whole one. “Touché.”

Touché. To touch. Did he mean that to be a pun? A handshake felt like a loaded gun, knowing what magic crawled beneath his skin.

I released him and pretended to be obsessed with the menu.

Wendel waved over the waiter. “The omelet. And coffee.”

“Coffee for me, too, thanks,” I added.

The waiter poured us each a cup, then left us alone. I blew on the black liquid to cool it before sipping.

“God,” I said, “I need the caffeine.”

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