Page 166 of To Catch A Rogue

"Ha." Lark rolled her eyes, but it was halfhearted at best. "He practically threw me on the dirigible."

"Maybe he knows the Blood Court is a dangerous place. Balfour vanished, and his wife is less than pleased with the turn of events. Maybe he wanted you to be safe."

Lark looked up. "Do you think so?"

"I do. I also think you're stalling. Go. Go and see Obsidian. Because Nikolai's not the only brother you have, my love. Do you want me to—?"

"No," she whispered. "I have to do this myself."

"Good. Talk to Obsidian and then come and find me." He kissed her gently on the lips. "Because we have unfinished business between us too."

* * *

Lark rappedon the door to Gemma and Obsidian's cabin, her heart in her throat.

"Come in," Gemma called with a laugh, as if she'd been up to something wicked inside.

Lark hesitantly pushed the door open.

Obsidian lay in bed, his skin pale and his eyes bruised, and from the look of it, Gemma had been sitting on said bed until she'd knocked. Giving her a wink, Gemma smoothed her hair.

"Whatever can we do for you?"

"May I speak with Obsidian?"

Gemma's smile softened. "Of course. I'll go see how Malloryn is doing."

She closed the door behind her, and suddenly Lark was alone in the room with the enormous ex-assassin. He dragged himself upright slowly.

"You look a little better," she said nervously.

He'd survived the injection of Black Vein, though it had taken its toll. Thin black veins still snaked through his cheeks, but he was alive. That was all that mattered.

"It seems Ava has an answer as to whether her antidote works." He winced. "I wouldn't recommend it, however."

Lark looked at the chair by the bed. "Do you mind...?"

"Of course not." He cleared his throat. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"I wanted to apologize." Lark wrapped her arms around herself as she sat. Charlie had offered to be here with her for this, but she'd insisted upon doing it herself.When one made a mistake, it was up to you to own it,Blade had always said. She was prepared to own it, even if there was a lump in her throat the size of Russia. "I told you that you couldn't be a Grigoriev. You don't look like the rest of us. There is nomarque. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I fear I did."

"I'd been expecting it," he replied, hauling himself slowly out of bed. Sunlight gilded the slope of his cheekbones and the fine golden tips of his eyelashes, and his shirt hung limply, as if he'd lost a couple of pounds. "It's the not knowing that bothered me. I have Gemma now, and it's enough, but sometimes.... I cannot help but wonder who I am."

"You are whom you have made yourself," she told him.

The faintest of smiles quirked his lips. "That's what Gemma tells me. And yet.... I dream about it sometimes. About meeting my parents, or my siblings. It's like a feeling in which I finally have a sense of home. And yet, when I wake it all vanishes. They have no faces. There is no home. I can put myself together piece by piece, but I feel as though there is some part of the puzzle missing."

Her heart ached. She knew that feeling. To be surrounded by dozens of people, and yet somehow alone.

"I kept looking at your face the other night, after you made your announcement, and wondering if it feels familiar. Am I imagining it? Is some part of me still trying to place myself within your family? Is it because I knew Sergey? Do I see remnants of him in your face? Is there someone out there withmynose? My eyes?" He gave a baffled shrug. "I cannot trust my memories. Balfour twisted my mind into knots, and sometimes I don't know what is real and what is not."

"Did Balfour ever give you the proof he promised you?" she asked nervously.

Just say it.

Any hint of warmth fled from his expression as he turned to the desk. "He gave me something. Whether it's proof or simply another little game is a matter of conjecture."

There was a cloth-wrapped package on the desk. He tugged the cloth open, revealing a shattered frame with a beautiful old parchment within it. Lark leaned closer. The paper must have been old, for it was darkened with age and—