Page 21 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part Two

Rian snorts quietly. “Salvatore, this is my mother, Trina. Mother, this is Salvatore. He’s … my bond mate.”

I don’t like the momentary hesitation in Rian’s introduction, but I understand that he thinks those particulars are for him and Mirth to work out. “Pleased to meet you, Rian’s mom,” I drawl.

Trina doesn’t quite look at me, still waiting, stiff in her seat, for further explanation from Rian. As if it isn’t her who owes him information.

It occurs to me that this might be some sort of typical parental interaction. Maybe Trina is trying to exert her authority over her son? To get the upper hand in the conversation?

Having never had parents, not that I can really remember, I have no frame of reference.

Rian just waits.

Which is crazy, because after only a few more seconds, I’m ready to blurt out anything just to get the conversation moving forward to where everyone can apologize and we can go back to Mirth whole and happy.

Trina breaks first. “Why is Lord Savoy in Dublin?” she asks. “With you? And who is Mirth?”

Satisfaction flits over Rian’s face — like maybe he’s won something? Seriously, all these games are just annoying. And confusing.

I hate all of it.

But I’m here for Rian.

I’m here to just support Rian.

That reminder loosens something in me. Steadies me. “Rian and I belong to Mirth,” I say easily. “She is our crux.”

Trina blinks, then whispers, “What do … but you are …” She looks to her son for clarification.

Rian tilts his head, watching her. Marking her reactions.

She huffs, finally getting a little peeved.

She’s a pretty woman. Handsome, I think, is the correct term.

Tall, slim in that strong, taut way of shifters, with a slightly round face.

Her makeup looks minimal, but my own experience tells me that it takes her time to make it appear that way.

Her hair is straightened to her shoulders, not a strand out of place despite the rain and the wind.

Being peeved suits her far better than the restrained demeanor she was feigning earlier. She is not a submissive. She can’t even pretend to be for long.

“Which part is most shocking? That I’m a mage?” I ask almost teasingly. “Or because I’m royalty? Or is it because I’m male-presenting?”

Trina doesn’t answer. But I can see all the thoughts whirling in her mind, just behind her eyes, before she glances away.

“Did you know …” Rian asks, still in that calm, almost gentle tone that I have no idea how he maintains, “that Bolan is my half-brother?”

Bolan is famous enough to need no introduction other than his chosen name.

Trina swallows, opening her mouth just slightly as if to speak. Then she shakes her head just as slightly.

It’s not a no, though.

Even I can read that.

“You need to tell me,” Rian says, his tone firming, “for us to continue to have any sort of relationship.”

Trina’s head snaps up, fingers flexing around her mug. “That’s emotional blackmail, Rian. We’ve already had this discussion. Just because I’m your mother, just because I love you, doesn’t mean I owe you all the parts of me, all the parts of my past.”

Rian leans forward. A sharp ire cracks through his calm, though he keeps his voice so low that I have to listen closely to catch the words. “You owe me the parts of myself. Parts I didn’t even know were missing. Have you deliberately kept me from my brother?”

Her hands finally leave her mug as Trina presses one of them to her chest, taking a shaky breath.

“You said my father abandoned you,” Rian continues. “That you had no family to turn to. All you had to do was reach out!”

“I did!” Trina whispers harshly, almost crying out. Then she moderates her tone. “I did reach out.”

“To the royal family?” I ask, completely surprised.

“Of course not.”

“To the royal guard?” Rian asks, frowning as deeply as I am.

Trina swallows again, her voice hollow when she speaks. “No, no … I … didn’t want to … ruin … his reputation. And I did … I did think he’d abandoned me. It was three weeks later that I worked out he’d died, that he was just … just …”

More of that sick feeling twists through my stomach. For a pregnant eighteen-year-old shifter. For her falling for an older shifter with an important, dangerous position.

“The royal guard would have taken care of you,” I say quietly. “Rian’s father died protecting Prince Armin and his mother.”

Trina just shakes her head. I’m not certain if she’s denying my assertion, or if her loyalty to her deceased chosen mate simply extends that far.

“Who, then?” Rian asks.

“I … I had to figure things out quickly after I … found out he wasn’t coming back. I was … he’d started an account for me, enough in it to cover my first year of university. He said that she … that Adeline would need time to accept me … that I should focus on getting my degree …”

“Adeline?” Rian asks, his voice a low rasp.

“Bolan and Livi’s mother,” I say.

“So you knew?” Rian’s voice is pained now. “That he had another family?”

“I was part of that family,” Trina says, still quiet.

But edged and fierce now. “I was … his. And he was mine. I knew it the moment I saw him. And he knew it. He … his ties were to the royal guard, not to a pack. It had to be that way, that’s …

he explained that it worked like that. He wanted to bite me into his family pack. ”

“He hadn’t bitten Adeline,” I murmur, voicing the conclusion I’d already come to.

“They must have been married,” Rian says, getting just a little pissed. “Under law. You still cheated with a married man.”

Trina clenches her hands into fists, leaning toward her son. “You must know. You must know what it feels like, if you’re sitting here letting a pretty mage claim you before your mother.”

Rian blinks, a little taken aback.

“She’s got you there, wolf,” I say. “Though Rian’s connection to the bond group is through Mirth. He and I have only just met.”

Rian takes a deep breath, then lets it all go with his next exhalation. It’s seriously impressive. “Who did you reach out to, Mom? I need to know. You made it seem like we were on our own, but I have half-siblings I never knew about.”

Trina nods, mostly to herself. It’s obvious that she’s running through how to deliver the bit of Rian’s past she’s chosen to keep from him all these years.

“You were almost three …” She takes a breath, deeply but steadily, then meets his gaze.

“I … it took me that long to get my first degree. I stretched the money James had given me, working nights before you were born and living on campus. I couldn’t afford rent in the apartment he’d found for me off campus.

We’d … we’d found for me. And then there was you … and it was a lot to balance.”

“Understandably,” I murmur.

Rian dips his chin slightly in acknowledgment. Maybe he knows this part — all the struggle. But maybe it’s not enough anymore, hence all the questions. Hence getting emancipated instead of waiting until he was eighteen to take control of his choices and his finances.

Trina sighs quietly. “I went to the house. The manor in the country. I took you with me, and maybe that was a mistake, but …” She shakes her head.

“I knew that Oliver and Olivia should be in school. I had my degree, and I had you, and I thought … that even without James … we were supposed to be pack! But Adeline …”

She presses her lips together, but not in sorrow. As though even now, she doesn’t want to speak badly about someone who she thought was supposed to be her chosen family.

“She knew about you?” Rian asks. The question is a quiet, pained rasp. “She knew about me?”

“James … yes … she knew about me. James told her. But not you. I never got a chance to tell James about you. I’ve never lied to you about that. About any of it, Rian. Yes, I could have texted him when I started throwing up and I took the test, but I wanted to tell him in person.”

“Because the plan was for you to get your degree while Adeline … adjusted,” I say. Clarifying things, because I’m not certain Rian, for all his calmness, is absorbing everything his mother is telling him. “Not to have a kid. Not before formalizing your bond.”

Some emotion, some form of tension, flickers over Trina’s face. But she simply says, “Yes.”

“And what did Adeline do when confronted with her dead husband’s lover and bastard child on her front porch?” Rian’s tone has chilled, but he is still way too calm. Completely contrary to the words that fall like blows from his lips.

“She refused to acknowledge any of it.” Trina doesn’t drop her son’s gaze. “She said she never would have accepted me into her marriage. And she refused to even look at you.”

“You could have told me. About my siblings, at least.”

Trina shakes her head again. “She said that … she’d have me arrested if I went near her children, that she’d … sue me for … slander if I spread my lies. And she’d make sure that …”

Her gaze drops, and she twists her fingers together.

“That she’d make sure you lost Rian,” I finish for her, my world vision shifting far too much and far too quickly for my comfort. Adeline might not have been my mother, or even a mother figure for me, but … “Bolan is going to be fucking pissed.”

“You left me anyway,” Trina murmurs. “You chose your horses over your education.”

Rian snorts, leaning back in his chair.

Just a little bit of emotional blackmail from mother to son.

“When were you going to tell me?” Rian asks.

Trina looks him steadily in the eye. “Never.”

“Never? I have two —”

“Sharing some DNA with someone doesn’t guarantee anything,” Trina says.

“You didn’t give me a choice!”

A few of the nearby customers glance our way, then look away just as quickly when Greg deliberately shifts, folding his arms across his chest and radiating menace.

“Well, I never had a choice either!” Trina blasts back. “Not one choice from the moment I found out James was dead. I had circumstances and decisions to make and not a single person to rely on. Not all of us are bequeathed with a bond group who want us.” She casts a look my way.