My mouth was numb, even full of hot coffee. I swallowed hard. It burned all the way down. “N-no.

Nobody ever told me.”

I mean, Gran talked about relatives—mostly dead ones. Dad talked about Gran sometimes; she’d

raised him after his father skipped out and left her pregnant. But neither of them ever talked about

Mom’s side of the tree. Dad never talked much about Mom, either. He would just get that look on

his face—the I miss her but don’t you dare mention it look he was so good at.

I didn’t ask many questions. I knew better. Besides, what was there to ask? I never doubted he loved

me. I never doubted something had happened to my mother. I never doubted Gran loved me, too,

but was too old to stay around for me.

I guess when you’re a kid you don’t think too much about that sort of stuff. It’s just there, like your

birthmarks. Those were the rocks the world was built on, and they didn’t move. Not when I was little.

Now everything was shifting, and I couldn’t find a solid place to jump to.

Christophe’s shoulders were stiff-tense. He held himself like he expected a punch or two. “I don’t

know if she told him. Her father was Kouroi, her mother pure human. But they created a miracle.

She was fifteen when they were raided. Murdered. Sergej, again. We barely got there in time; she

survived only by accident. She was brought in. It was a shock. Her father . . . he wanted her to know

a normal life. I suppose he thought that living in the middle of a clear zone, it was a luxury he could

afford.” A laugh like a mouthful of bitter ashes. “She wanted to be normal; she wanted to go home.

Over and over she said as much. I thought she would eventually understand it was impossible.”

What could I say to that? I licked my dry lips. “She called you youngblood.” I guess I wanted to

know. If it was real, or if I’d dreamed it.

He whirled and stared at me. The aspect slid over him like a cobra’s hood, danger radiating in every

direction. His eyes burned, his hair slicking back and turning dark. But I felt a weird, curious comfort. I knew I was right, deep down. There’s nothing like feeling a little bit of certainty while the

world’s jigging and jiving around you.

“Yes,” he said, finally. “It is . . . was . . . slang. Back then. She found it amusing.”

I took another gulp of banana latte. I so seriously needed caffeine if I was going to deal with this.

Every bruise twinged a little, settled back into a low-level ache. “So, um. You really liked her.”

A shrug. His aspect retreated, the blond highlights slipping their fingers though his hair again. “She

made certain I stayed here. In the light.”