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My heart races.

How does he know so much about my family? About me?

Beside me, Agnar touches my arm. A silent gesture of solidarity.

My thoughts scatter like leaves in a gale as I struggle to make sense of the man’s words. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Who are you? And how the hells do you know all this?”

I force myself not to react when he closes the distance between us and stops only a foot away.

“I am Eldor Gentry. Your grandfather.” His tone softens on the last word. “And I know about your mother because she’s my daughter.”

The room tilts as dizziness slams into me.

No way. No fucking way did I hear that right.

My hand drops to my side, short sword almost scraping the floor. “I’m sorry…you’re my what?”

Agnar drapes an arm across my shoulders, like he’s afraid I might face-plant.

Eldor gestures toward the painting on the wall. His eyes light up as he points to the woman astride a dragon, her profile revealing someone who appears both fierce and kind. “That is your mother and my daughter, Marina. You have the same fire in your soul as she did.”

When I take a wobbly step toward the painting, Agnar’s grip around me tightens. He keeps his eyes on the man, my grandfather, while I remain transfixed by the portrait.

My gaze traces the lines of the woman’s—my mother’s—face, searching for familiarity in the curve of her smile or shape of her eye.

Is this even possible? Or did Eldor just concoct a bizarre story to further his own agenda, whatever that might be?

“If you’re really Lark’s grandfather, why didn’t you tell her sooner?” Seemingly satisfied I’m not about to pass out, Agnar squeezes my shoulders before dropping his arm. “Could’ve saved her a lot of time and effort if she’d known all this before you sent her traipsing across kingdoms.”

He has a point.

“Would you have believed me?” With a sigh, Eldor runs a hand through his already wild hair. “Even if you did, which I highly doubt given your nature, this is something you needed to learn on your own.”

“This is a lot to process.” I sheathe my weapon, shoot Agnar a grateful glance, and address Eldor. “But if what you’re saying is true,” Eldor lifts an eyebrow at that but doesn’t interrupt me, “you’ve had plenty of opportunities to speak to me before drugging and kidnapping me. Which, by the way, I haven’t forgiven you for.”

Agnar coughs but otherwise stays silent.

Eldor pauses a beat before answering. “I understand you’re frustrated?—”

“Do you? Because you’re not the one who recently discovered that everything you’ve been told over the course of your life is a lie. You’re not the one who was dumped into an arena with two angry dragons, informed by the king that you’re his long lost fiancé, and eventually chucked by your supposed betrothed into a filthy prison cell. Your mother wasn’t just murdered by your sister. You weren’t poisoned or drugged.” I scowl at Eldor. “You didn’t just learn that demented shadow creatures are attacking and inhabiting people like it’s going out of style and that it rests on your shoulders to find a way to defeat them.”

“No,” Eldor agrees, gentling his tone like he’s speaking to an alicorn foal who might bolt. “But I have watched my granddaughter go through most of that, knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, you know…since you came to Tirene.”

“You’ve been watching me?” I can’t decide whether I should be touched or creeped out. “Why? Why not just introduce yourself to me like a normal person?”

In response to my tirade, a ghost of a smile plays at Eldor’s lips. “In case you’ve forgotten, King Jasper wasn’t the most tolerant person.I don’t think he would have taken too kindly to me hanging around the palace to spend time with you.”

I bite my lip to hold in a smart comment because he’s right. I barely know Eldor, and I don’t trust him yet, but I have to admit he hasn’t led me astray thus far. Even if his methods are rather unconventional.

“Wait a minute.” Agnar sheathes his sword, apparently satisfied Eldor isn’t going to harm us. “You said you’ve been watching Lark. Were you watching her that day in the gardens when a man killed the guard and tried to kidnap Lark and someone shot an arrow at her attacker?”

“Ziva’s flame, that’s it! That’s how I recognize the arrows. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Eldor’s lips twitch, and he raises his palms. “Guilty.”

“You probably saved my life.”

His expression softens, and for a minute, I glimpse past the hardened exterior of this man who claims to be my grandfather. “You have no reason to trust me, but I hope with time you will. That we can get to know each other.”