A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  “And Ewan?” he asks, and now, Kellan and Jonah wade into our complex circle that’s been intertwined for a long time without anyone knowing it. My fingers itch to touch Jonah when he comes closer, but he and Kellan position themselves across from where I’m standing with Will and Callie.

  “He’s here in Annar,” Astrid is saying while Kellan asks just how Cameron knows their dad. And my eyes meet Jonah’s once more, but there isn’t a question there. Just sadness.

  Cameron sighs. “Molly and I lived in Annar for a very brief time when we first were married. She knew your parents, and I through her.”

  A pair of tears trickles down Astrid’s cheeks. She hastily wipes them away. “Now, you. How did you come to be here with Chloe? Because Cameron, this is . . .” She chuckles quietly. “Talk about a small world.”

  Kellan gives me a look that basically says: now that’s an excellent question. When he turns and looks at Jonah, I immediately know they’re talking their way. And as much as I used to complain about them doing it for years, now I find this action comforting.

  I’ve missed them both so much.

  I take a deep breath, trying to recall all the words I’ve practiced for hours, but Cameron beats me to the punch. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You, taking in Ben and Lucia’s children—knowing they’re your family, even though your blood doesn’t run through their veins? It’s the same with this hen here.” His arm drops across my shoulders, and despite everything that’s just gone down, love for this man fills me up. “She’s my girl. She’s our family. It was clear from day one that she needed us and we needed her. And we’re here to give her the support she deserves as well as give Will a go at getting to know his mum’s past.”

  I sniffle and loop my arms around him into a hug. What I see in Jonah’s eyes now: I did NOT see that one coming. Kellan’s expression is identical.

  “She’s a Dane,” Will says quietly, but there’s a smirk playing across his lips. “A mix-up in the hospital or something. Look. Our hair even matches.” He leans in. Thank the gods, he’s joking. This is a good sign. “Oh, wait. Are your roots . . . dark?”

  I smack his hand away and laugh. And he laughs that wonderful laugh of his, and suddenly, things don’t seem so dire at all. And that’s how Karl finds us when he comes into the room, me and the Dane boys laughing, Astrid, too, in a quiet way, with everyone else wondering if they’ve stepped through the portal to Crazy Town.

  “I knocked,” Karl says. He’s confused and concerned at the same time. “But there was no answer. I almost left, but I heard voices, so . . .”

  “No worries, man,” Will says. He and Karl knock elbows, and now there’s another question from both twins: they know each other? “You’re always welcome to barge right in, mate. Except, you may want to turn around and leave, as we’ve currently found ourselves in the midst of parental secrets and lies and general incestuousness. Chances are, one of these stellar, so-called upstanding parents here might have actually either: a) sired you, b) had an affair with one of your parents, or c) claimed you as their own.”

  I’d best describe Karl as an owl at the moment.

  “Will,” Cameron sighs. “Enough. Karl, we didn’t expect you until later tonight.”

  Karl greets Cameron, holding up an envelope that must surely be from Zthane. And then he looks to me, concern filling those hazel eyes of his. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Why are you here, Karl?” It’s the first time Jonah’s spoken since coming into the apartment. I want to bottle his words so I can listen to them all the time, especially since I’m pretty sure, the moment he and I finally get to talk, he’s the one who’s going to want to run away, screaming, because this here? It’s a hot mess.

  “Right.” He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Zthane has sent the paperwork we discussed last night, Chloe.” He hands the manila envelope to me. “He’s also requesting a meeting with you and Will as soon as possible. He, uh . . . we need to discuss some . . .” He glances quickly at Jonah and then back at me. “Obviously, there are key matters we need to discuss in more detail.”

  This so does not sit well with either twin, both of whom loathe being kept out of the loop.

  Will must see how this stresses me out, because he says lightly, “I refuse to give up my pancake recipe. Zthane will just have to do without.” And then, “Honestly, mate. You know we laid ourselves bare last night. You need to tell Nightstorm to back off, give us some space. We’ll do our duty, but you know as well as we do that a bit of rest is well deserved, especially after these last two weeks.”

  Karl rubs at his hair tiredly. “I know. Zthane’s just—you must understand that this is a game changer.”

  Astrid cuts in, her voice quiet yet steady. “Is this something the Council should know?”

  “Yes,” Karl tells her. “And it’ll be brought up shortly, just as soon as Councilwoman Lilywhite is debriefed further.”

  I can’t believe this. First the bomb about Cameron and Astrid, and now this? What else could go wrong right now? I try to keep my frustration at bay, especially at how Karl is busting out my official title. He knows I haven’t had time to tell Jonah and Kellan yet. There’s a smidge of pity in his eyes, though.

  “What is going on right now?” Kellan asks. “What are you guys talking about?”

  But Karl doesn’t answer him. He glances briefly at the twins and then back to Will and me. “Can I talk to you two privately?”

  It’s clear this makes both Jonah and Kellan unhappy, Astrid, too, but Will and I reluctantly follow Karl into one of the back bedrooms. Once the door is shut and Nell nearly knocks me over, Karl murmurs, “Things seem to be going well.”

  “Are you daft? Did you not hear anything I said back there?” Will paces the room; it’s not a good sign. Maybe I ought to let him drink more tequila after all.

  “I assumed you were joking,” Karl says, leaning back against the door.

  Will groans. “I wish I were! To briefly recap, these people come in, and it turns out my dad and this woman used to date, and she’s my bloody godmother, and that girl out there is my godfather’s daughter, and my mum and that woman were best friends. So if you think Chloe’s had her say yet, think again. She’s been sidelined due to the insanity unfolding in my living room. You can’t drag her away until she’s had her say. You know this, mate.”

  “Gods, this is shitty timing,” Karl says quietly. “I assumed that you’d at least have had some time with Jonah so far.”

  I try not to cry. Or think about how incredibly hurt he looks out there.

  “How about this—I’ll give you an hour leeway to get down to HQ. I know it’s not much time, but it’s a start, right?” He rubs at his five o’clock shadow. “I’ve got to take Kellan back with me, though. Something’s come up in Los Angeles, and he’s needed for a turn-around mission. He should be back in Annar by morning, though.”

  Great. Just . . . great.

  “And . . . Zthane has asked me to personally debrief Kellan during the mission, if there’s time. Being the Guard’s lead Emotional, we need him involved. I know the timing sucks, but Chloe, over the last week, you’ve managed to take out three Elders. These things have been trying to kill our kind, not to mention the Métis for too long. We’ve finally got a way to defeat them.” His words are steady yet soft.

  “I know,” I tell him. The familiar sting of tears threatens to surface, but I force them back. I’ve got to stay strong. I assure them both that this is fine, that I’ll get down to Guard HQ within the hour, but they don’t look too sure at my conviction. And rather than being pissed that they doubt me, I’m pleased by their concern.

  It’s a good thing, having brothers.

  It’s clear Kellan is torn about having to leave when he argues with Karl about finding a different Emotional to do the mission. There’s this anguished look that he allows me to see for just the smallest of moments; I think my own face mirrors his. After half a year, this is the closest we’ve gotten to each other—o
nly to have him leave before we get to talk at all? But, in the end, he goes, because he knows it’s the right thing to do. So when he and Karl head to the door, I muster my courage, trail after them, and pull Kellan aside before he leaves. Thankfully, Karl gives us some space.

  “If it’s okay with you,” I tell him quietly, “I’d really like to talk to you as soon as possible.”

  An entire array of emotions flash through his beautiful blue eyes—sadness, happiness, anger, worry—before he carefully schools them into the undecipherable gaze I know to be his self-defense mechanism. I watch his right hand pull through his hair, shorter than the last time I saw him, and try my hardest to squelch the wish that nearly knocks me to my knees that it was my hand touching him.

  “I’ll come over in the morning,” he tells me.

  I want to hug him, but I don’t. I’m too scared. He takes a deep breath, nods his head, and tries to hide the pain in his eyes when he leaves. And it breaks my heart, just like it always has.

  “You two really do look alike,” Will is saying to Jonah when I get back to the living room; mostly, I think, to cut through the unbearable tension in the room.

  “Really?” Callie snaps. “That’s amazing. Identical twins typically look nothing alike.”

  “Callie,” her mother admonishes, but Callie glares back and takes a so-there chug of tequila.

  Will outrights laughs at Callie. It’s the wrong thing to do, because her eyes narrow dangerously.

  “Don’t,” Jonah says to Callie. His hand is flexing over and over.

  Will’s head tilts to the side, his own eyes narrowing now. “Why is it I get the wrong sort of vibe between you two? Has the incestuousness of this lot included something between you?” The press of his hand against my shoulder is filled with pity.

  Good lords. This just keeps getting worse. Because, now Jonah’s eyes have narrowed and I’m wondering if I ought to turn the lights on so everyone can see without squinting.

  “You’re an asshole,” Callie hisses.

  Will’s furious. “Cheers. I believe it takes one to know one.”

  Astrid and Cameron are nearly beside themselves when a full-fledged shouting match breaks out between Callie and Will. And I’ve never been the best peacekeeper, but these people here are my family, and I can’t let any of this devolve any further, especially since I have so little time to talk to Jonah. I shove my body in between Will and Callie, both hands pressing against their chests. “Will? Shut it. Callie? Same to you. Because your anger right now isn’t with each other, and screaming isn’t going to solve anything.”

  Will storms away, muttering about the need to find more alcohol since the bitch stole his tequila. Callie’s grin is vicious as she purposely chugs another shot-worthy swig from the bottle.

  “Look,” I say to Cameron and Astrid, “I know I am quite possibly the worst person ever when it comes to dealing with secrets and lies. But I’m thinking you guys need to talk to your kids, either together or separately. They deserve that.”

  Astrid sniffles again, nodding. Cameron pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “Always the smart one, lass,” he whispers into my hair. And then, “You’ll be okay if Will and I go for a walk?”

  The Dane boys had wanted to be here for me when I laid myself bare. I thought that’s what I wanted, too—their love and support. But I know I have it, whether or not they’re in the room with me or on another plane. They’ve got my back. They love me, and that’s not going to change just because I’ve made mistakes. And it makes all the difference in the worlds.

  I nod, my face pressing into his worn flannel shirt.

  “We’ll have our phones with us if you need us to come home,” Cameron tells me. Something slams into the kitchen, forcing a sigh from him. Another quick kiss is laid against my head. “Love you, hen.”

  “Love you, too,” I whisper. And then he leaves to no doubt drag his son out of the kitchen.

  I turn to find Astrid talking quietly to Jonah across the room. I wonder if she’s saying the same things to him that Cameron just said to me.

  “I’m pissed at you,” Callie murmurs. Her shoulder bumps into mine.

  “I know,” I tell her.

  She sighs heavily. “I’m also glad you’re finally home.”

  We hug, and for the first time since coming home, hope seeds within me.

  We’re sitting across from one another—Jonah on the couch, me in a chair, and there’s a coffee table between us. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never been more nervous. There’s a lot at stake right now. But as unsettled as I feel, I don’t hide my emotions from him. Right now, he deserves honesty that’s one hundred percent pure, not a diluted, piss-poor version whose purpose is to assuage my guilt rather than my conscience.

  I refer to Will as my best friend, but Jonah—he’s been my real best friend for the bulk of my life. We’ve shared more together, both in our dreams and in real life, than most people ever get to experience. So to be as nervous as I am makes me want to laugh, because this man has seen me naked, knows my body as well as his own, and has held my hand through good times and bad. I should not be so nervous—but then, I never should’ve treated him the way I did, either. So anything that may happen today—my heart being ripped out of my chest, for example—will be the result of my own actions.

  I clear my throat and spin my index finger in a circle over my shoulder. “That was crazy, right?”

  His hand flexes against the couch arm, even though he’s trying to radiate calm and indifference. I wonder if he remembers I’m aware of this tic of his, that I’ll always know when he’s upset or scared or worried. I’m glad that this, at least, is still true. “I’ll admit I didn’t see any of that coming,” he finally says. Hearing his voice, directed at me, is the best present I’ve received in a long time.

  How could I have ever done this to him? How was I so stupidly blind to realize what I had?

  “Right?” I scratch my scalp, but quit when I realize it’s a tic of mine, too. He already knows I’m nervous and guilty as all hell. There’s no need to shred my scalp while I’m at it. “So.” I swallow hard. I wonder if he can feel just how much I love him, too, if he can accept it through everything else running through my body. “I owe you an explanation.”

  He doesn’t say anything. I’m glad he doesn’t—and it makes me wonder if maybe he’s changed these last six months, too. Because for a long time, Jonah tried too often to take care of my needs before seeing to his own. Old Jonah would be reassuring Old Chloe that there’s no need to explain. That he understands, whether or not he really does.

  I’m on the edge of my chair, unable to relax. My hands twist in my lap. “More importantly, I owe you an apology. I left last year without a single word to you. That was . . .” I shake my head slowly, refusing to break eye contact with him. Gods, his eyes are gorgeous. “Incredibly selfish of me. Disrespectful. And you didn’t deserve that. I know it seems like all I’ve ever done in the last few years is apologize to you, but Jonah, I am truly sorry for leaving like that.”

  His right hand stops flexing long enough to rake through his hair. He blows out a hard breath. It’s then I notice he’s trembling—very faintly, but it’s there all the same.

  For the first time in a long time, I wish I was an Emotional, so I could know what he’s feeling, too.

  “I was out shopping with Callie, and I realized I didn’t have my phone. I came back to the apartment to get it, and I . . .” I can’t seem to swallow the lump in my throat. “I overheard an argument between you and Kellan.”

  Those cerulean eyes of his, the ones I’ve lost myself in so many times, widen in surprise and confusion.

  “You two were so cruel to each other. None of us were talking anymore, and . . .” I force another gulp. “I was so sick, Jonah. The ulcer kept coming back. All those blinding headaches. I felt like I wasn’t able to hold it together anymore. Between the mess due to our Connections and work, I was—”

  He’s
surprised again. “Work?”

  Sadness and shame washes over me. I don’t want to talk about it, but . . . I need to. Have to. “Before you banished him, Jens Belladonna let me know I killed two nons on one of my assignments.”

  He’s quiet for a long moment. “You realize that I’m responsible for a lot more than two deaths over the last two years, right?”

  “I know.” I fight back the tears. And this is part of the problem. He’s always had a tough time dealing with the fall-out from his actions, and I knew it, and focused instead on my own worries. What does that say about me? Certainly, that I wasn’t as supportive to him as he’d been to me. It’d been all about me back then, and I hate that. Here on out, no matter what, that’s not who I want to be anymore. “I know. It’s just . . .” My hands are folded so tight that I fear I might lose circulation. “I wasn’t ready for that yet. I knew someday it’d be the case, but . . . I wasn’t ready. I was really resentful that I was forced to skip right over all those stages that everyone else gets to go through, the ones that help Magicals ease into their crafts. It felt like the moment I joined the Council, I was thrown into the fire.” I sigh. “I know it was the same for you, too. And others. It’s not like I was the only one. And I’m not trying to devalue your crafts, but more often than not, it seemed like I was asked to get out there and destroy things rather than create, and it was a heavy burden to bear.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling about everything?” He’s so sad. “I would have helped you, Chloe.”

  “I know.” I’m crying, and it pisses me off, because I want to stay strong. “I know that now. I wish I had. But at the time, it felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and before I knew it, I was lost and didn’t know how to get out of the maze I’d wandered into.”

  One of his palms presses in between his eyes.

  “And . . . the Connections . . .” My voice falls apart, and I’m shaking all over. “It’s really hard to have two Connections, Jonah. I know you have two, too, but—it’s overwhelming at times.” I wipe my nose. “Sometimes, I wondered if everything I did damaged one or both of you. Like, whether me even breathing, existing—hurt you. And I hated myself for it. What good was I to anyone if I couldn’t even love myself? I couldn’t—I didn’t know what to do. In the end, it seemed like the only solution was for me to leave. I hoped . . .”