He saw that she had misunderstood his meaning. If you had been here, they would have kidnapped you as well. You and Stelli.

Linnea’s gray eyes widened. Regis sensed her horror, her outrage, and then her dawning recognition. Shewas one of those most dear to him. In a distracted, emotional moment, he had been able to communicate what he had never been able to say aloud. Her face softened, her heart opening like a rosalys in the sun. From Kierestelli, at her side, came a mental starburst of joy.

It was too much, too intense, all a tangle in his mind. He had to think clearly, to plan, to act decisively. He forced himself to sit down again.

“From the beginning, then. If you did not come to Thendara because of this night’s events—and how could you travel all the way from High Windward in a night?—then what brings you here?”

“It seems foolish to think of personal concerns now,” she said, lowering her gaze for an instant. “I came to set things right between us. We parted so bitterly, I could not let matters rest. Especially when—when I had had a time to consider things other than my own vanity and temper.”

“You are not the only one with a temper,” Regis said.

For a moment, she regarded him with that cool, direct Keeper’s gaze. “No, but I am responsible for what I say and do when I am in the grip of mine. I rejected you so cruelly and sent you on your way without a shred of hope. I acted selfishly as well as rashly.”

Regis thought she was the least selfish person he had ever met, but his tongue had gone inert. He could only hope his admiration for her showed in his eyes. Mentally cursing his clumsiness, he said, “I did you no honor in the manner of my address.”

“That does not excuse my behavior,” she responded. “I thought about—I considered what I was throwing away because, like a spoiled child, I wanted everything. And so I lost much of value, too much. Here in Thendara, I can be both mother and leronis. At home, as you know, my choices are limited. And—and you want to know your children and be a good father to them. How could I deprive them of your care? I decided that I would rather have a life with as much love you can give me than a life without you in it.”

Her voice wavered. She glanced away, blinked hard, then met his gaze again.

I will never ask you to choose. I will only ask you to love me as much as you can.

Carya . . .His fingertips brushed her lips, soft and firm.

Her next words jarred him back to the present moment. “Now Danilo has been seized, dragged away—as prisoner, as hostage? Has a message come? And Mikhail is gone as well.”

“And my brother,” Regis added grimly.

“Your brother?”

He had never seen her so astonished. “My older brother, my father’s son but not my mother’s.” Quickly he told her of his grandfather’s deathbed confession, of the search and discovery, and of the journey to Nevarsin.

“A Hastur cristoforo? This is very strange,” she murmured. “Are you sure he is missing?”

“I think it certain by now. It may be that these three abductions were carried out by different people and for various reasons, but I do not believe it. Not on the same night.”

“Why would anyone want so many hostages?”

Regis glanced down at Kierestelli, who had been following the discussion. How much more could he reveal in front of the child?

“She stays,” Linnea said. “For the moment, anyway. She may have need of this knowledge.”

“Danilo. Mikhail, my heir. Rinaldo, my brother,” Regis ticked off the names on his fingers. “Abductions, not murders. Obviously, whoever is behind this wants them alive. That can mean only that he—or they—aim to force me into some action.”

Linnea’s expression darkened. “You have never lacked enemies, a hazard of being who and what you are. Is there anyone you suspect? Surely they will contact you with their demands.”

“No doubt they will,” Regis agreed. “But if I can find out who is behind this and what he wants, I will be far better prepared to act when the time comes. Gabriel and his men are scouring the city, but I do not think he will find them. With your help—”

“You have it without asking. What do you want me to do?”

Regis hesitated. Of the three men, his closest bond was with Danilo. Would Linnea agree to contact her rival?

I meant what I said about never asking you to choose!Her thought shimmered in his mind. I do not love Danilo as you do, nor do I think I ever could, but I will do whatever is necessary to protect him for your sake.

Regis closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “When Danilo was captured, he was looking for Rinaldo, who had been gone for hours. He searched one of the poorer areas of the city. There he met someone he recognized, a man I think—I hope—who can provide key evidence. I sensed images, bits of speech, emotions, but not enough to identify the other man. It was all too quick. If you could help me to recover those mental impressions—maybe even contact Danilo . . .”

“That would mean submitting yourself to me as your Keeper. Are you willing to do that, Regis? How much do you trust me? With your mind? Your life? With hislife?”

With her cool, steady gaze, she measured him. Regis remembered one of the many arguments with his grandfather, when the old man had been pressuring him to marry. He remembered shouting, “When I meet the woman I wish to marry—”and realized he had indeed met her.

“For this, we must be alone.” Linnea bent to the girl at her side. “You understand, chiya preciosa? This is leroniswork.”

Gravely the girl got to her feet. Regis did not know how much she had understood, certainly far more than any other child her age. She was too young for her laranto have fully developed, according to what he had been taught, and yet . . .

“With your approval, I will place her in my sister’s care,” Regis said, then to Kierestelli: “You do not yet know your Aunt Javanne, but she is as fierce as a mother cloud leopard.”

Kierestelli giggled.

In only a few minutes, Javanne bustled into the room. She was clearly affected by all that had happened, but she held herself together. An impeccably correct copper butterfly clasp held her hair smoothly coiled on the nape of her neck, and she wore a dark green gown, plainly styled. For moment, Regis thought there was something wrong with her eyes, as if something in her had broken at losing Mikhail a second time, something that might never be mended. Then the moment passed, and Javanne was gathering the little girl with brisk motherly competence.

“It’s past your bedtime, little one. Are you hungry? I’ll have warm honey-milk sent up and then straight to bed with you.”

In her wake, Javanne left a turbulence of psychic currents. Regis had laranenough to feel his sister’s distress even after she had left. The room fell quiet. He took a breath.

Linnea’s back was as straight and poised as a dancer’s. She had been looking down at her folded hands, her eyelids half lowered. Only the slow, controlled rise and fall of her breathing indicated she was not a beautifully carved statue. Her face, shadowed beneath the braided auburn crown, betrayed nothing.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked, lowering his gaze to her softly rounded belly.

“I would not have agreed if I had any doubts of my control. It would be better if we had a monitor, but I can manage for a short time without one. I could not do this work regularly, and I will have to rest and clear my channels afterward, but yes, for this great a cause, I can keep our son from harm.”

She lifted her head, and Regis saw the steel in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice rang like a tempered sword, a Keeper’s voice resonant with power. She was no longer the sweet, impulsive girl or the passionate woman, or even the friend so generous with herself and her heart.