Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(26)

“I have a lot of questions,” I say. “When will I get them answered?”

He takes another bite of steak, and his brow dips a little in confusion. “Faelan is here for such things, to teach you and guide you. And once the arrangement is final, he’ll also be your protector.”

“Final? What arrangement?”

The corner of his mouth turns down on one side. “Has he spoken to you at all about the ceremony?”

My head pulls back. Not liking the sound of that. “Ceremony? What the hell’s that mean?”

Marius turns to his daughter and asks in a low voice, “Where is Faelan, Aelia?”

She coughs, choking on her sip of wine. “I told you, he’s sleeping.”

His gaze narrows.

She does a very convincing shrug, making it all seem like none of her business. “As if I know anything, Daddy. You and your brigade of men are the ones who fix all this stuff.” She takes another sip of wine and focuses on her plate.

He draws in a breath, then asks me, “What have you and the hunter spoken of?”

“I, uh . . .” The vision of Faelan’s naked body climbing over the rim of the nest flashes through my head again. I swallow hard and try to blink it away. Have we even talked at all? But then I remember: the car. We talked in the car. “He, well, he told me about you. How you’re the son of, um . . . a sea god.” And I already forgot the name. Great. This is why I should’ve paid attention in World Civ. “And he explained how your world and the human world overlap. How my mother was the goddess Brighid. My whole life’s been a lie. And all that stuff.”

Marius waits, like he’s thinking I’ll say more, but I’ve given him everything I can remember. That I can tell him.

“I see,” is all he says. And I swear that the air chills, the hair on my arms prickling.

“Did you know that an avocado has fat in it?” Barbara pipes up.

Every eye at the table moves to her—she hasn’t said a word since we sat down.

“Why would the trainer order me to add one to my shakes? I’m telling you, that’s the extra three hip pounds. I just can’t peel them off.” She shakes her head, the strange faux smile clinging to her lips. Maybe the plastic face is because of Botox or something.

“Enough with the three hip pounds, Barb,” Aelia mutters.

Barbara reaches out and places a hand on Marius’s arm. “I only wish you would help me, dear. Can’t you do one of your manipulation spells or whatever it is? I know you’ve done it for your other wives, I’ve seen the pictures of—”

Aelia drops her fork on her plate. “The cursed three pounds aren’t going anywhere, Barb, because they’re in your head.”

Barb’s stiff features shift into an offended slant. “You’ll live three hundred years without a blemish, Aelia. The least you could do is have a little pity on your mortal mother.”

“Enough,” Marius says, his voice low with warning. “Both of you.”

The women give a silent response to each other, squinting their eyes and pinching their lips together, then they return to their plates.

Marius waits an extra beat before taking another bite of steak. He chews for a few tense seconds and then focuses on me again. “Faelan has disappointed me. He’s told you very little.”

“No, he’s done fine,” I say, quickly. It’s my fault the guy’s out of it. “I never did that good in school. The student role isn’t my best look. I’ve got crap focus.” Which isn’t really true; I actually managed a tolerable 3.0 most of the time, in spite of how rarely I made it to class, but he doesn’t have to know that.

Marius raises an eyebrow. “His task for the day was not complicated. All he needed to do was inform you of the ceremony. Apparently this never came up?”

“We’ve barely seen each—” I start to say before I realize I’m officially a snitch. First I put him in a coma, and now I’m throwing him under the bus. “I mean . . . there was so much talking. He said some stuff, lots of stuff, but maybe I didn’t hear it.”

“It’s good that you’re loyal to him,” Marius says. “But there’s no need for excuses.”

Aelia stares into the golden wine she’s swirling around her glass. “My dad’s talking about the ceremony of Emergence. It’s like a creepy birthday party. But with chanting.”

“Thank you, Aelia,” Marius says. “However, that’s not helpful.”

“Whatever. She’s not going to understand it.” She rolls her eyes. “The newblood’s been in blind-ville too long. And our resident hunter has a huge stick up his ass, so he’s not going to be straight with her.”

Barb bobs her fork in the air, a dreamy look filling her eyes at the mention of Faelan. “Last time I saw him, he seemed like a smart young man.”

“He’s not young, Mom,” Aelia says. “He’s, like, nine million years old.”

I drop my fork. “What?”

“That’s ludicrous hyperbole,” Marius says. “He was born in the fourteenth century.”

“Same thing,” Aelia says.

The fourteenth century . . . that was . . . a long time ago.

Barb almost lets the spot above her nose crinkle. “I’d say he’s quite young compared to your father.”