Page 72 of Soulbound

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—Morgana's journal on the day of her judgment

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SEBASTIAN MOVED THROUGH the twilight quiet of Rathbourne Manor, uneasy with himself. Cleo was resting, and he should have been doing the same, considering his exhaustion. He'd barely been able to sleep in three days.

What if he'd lost her? He felt ill just thinking about it. It was one thing to consider an annulment, and a new life away from her. In his dreams she'd always gone on and remarried, finally forging the happy family she desired so much. It gave him some sense of peace to consider he could make her happy by removing himself from her life. All he'd ever wanted was to make her happy.

But to lose her to death....

The thought froze him every single time it passed through his mind. He saw his mother again, and his wife standing between them, her wards blazing.... A part of him died in that moment. There was nothing Morgana could do to him now or in the future that could ever compete with that single, heart-wracking moment when he'd thought Morgana would destroy Cleo.

But she hadn't.

No relief there. He'd seen the expression on Morgana's face as she realized Cleo was more than her match.

If you can't defeat an enemy, then you take them out of the equation no matter what you must do....

Cleo had just found herself at the top of his mother's destroy-at-all-costs list. He knew Morgana too well to think otherwise.

Mother of night, he had to protect her. No matter what the cost was, no matter what he had to do. The second he returned to Bishop's house he was going to take that fucking ticket to Manhattan and rip it into little pieces.

But first.... He'd been a reluctant partner in this entire scheme to overthrow the demon and save his father. Guilt was a strong motivator, but sometimes he'd wondered if it wouldn't be better—easier—to simply vanish into the world.

Now he had a new reason to throw himself behind this cause.

Tracking down his brother wasn't easy, particularly with Ianthe buried in paperwork at her desk. The last thing he wanted to do was stir that dragon. As much as the Prime had been cordial, he wasn't fool enough to think she'd forgiven him.

The soft murmur of his brother's voice drew him upstairs, to where Louisa had her bedchambers and nursery. There was another girl up here somewhere—Ianthe's apprentice, Thea, if he remembered correctly—but the level was quiet, except for the patient sound of Lucien's voice. Three bears and three bowls of porridge, and yet it sounded like there was nothing Lucien would rather be doing. Bloody hell. It felt like Sebastian had suddenly awoken in another world. This was so different to anything he'd ever experienced.

Or was it?

She read to me once. When I was a little boy....

Hatred surged, and anger, and goddess-knew-what-else. This was all Lady E's fault for putting the diary in his hands. It was easier to deal with the collar and the abuse when he didn't have to remember Morgana being a mother at all. Why? Why had she suddenly changed? She'd never been perfect. Indeed, she was hateful some of the time, and absent the rest. But every now and then she'd brushed his hair off his forehead as if she gave a damn, and sometimes she'd smiled at him, or been proud of him for his lessons. Those were the moments that made his heart ache, for he'd been so hungry for them as a little boy.

Why had she hated him too?

What had he done to turn her against him so suddenly on his thirteenth birthday? She'd been so proud when his powers first came in, and she'd marveled at the strength of them.

"You're everything I've ever hoped for, Sebastian."

But as time went on, he'd seen wariness compete with pride in her eyes.

Sebastian rested a shoulder against the cracked door to Louisa's bedchamber, watching as Lucien drew the covers up over his child's chest, and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. No wariness there. Only tenderness and love and a father's protective spirit.

Sebastian couldn't look away. Something in the moment seemed incredibly alluring. Maybe it was the trusting expression on the girl's face as her eyelashes fluttered closed. Or maybe it was the way Lucien looked down at her as if he'd just been given the world.

And a new image arose: a little girl with moonbeam-pale curls, blinking sleepily as he was the one who put her to bed.

A child.

One with her mother's dark eyes, and her stubborn mouth. Sebastian froze uncomfortably, for this was not a dream he'd ever had before, and he was surprised at how much he suddenly wanted it.

Nothing.... Nothing had ever frightened him more.

Lucien put his finger to his lips as he stood up, moving silently through the room. Sebastian stepped back into the hallway, waiting for his brother to close the door. His heart beat a little raggedly. He could still see that little girl, but hell, he wasn't even anywhere near ready to accept the idea.