Chapter 25 - Greg

Greg’s mind was blown. How could Mateo, or anyone, for that matter, have ever been in love with that witch?!

This certainly was turning into a very complicated situation. Greg closed his mouth, realizing it was hanging wide open. What could one say to this? I’m sorry? My condolences?

Regardless, this was good. They needed to keep this conversation going, and if Mateo had revealed this information—something that private and painful to him—maybe there was some room to share their own story. Maybe not every detail, but enough to make him feel at ease, and let Sam do whatever her instincts bid her to do.

Even if Mateo—Caretaker skills and all—couldn’t tell what Sam needed, Greg knew. She had a purpose, a path to follow. He understood all about that. There was no fighting one’s destiny. He had tried and failed. He would protect Sam until the day he died, whether or not that was the best for him. For her part, she too had an undeniable call, which left him with no other alternative but to help ease her load.

He looked over at Sam, at her elegant profile and the tumble of brown hair draping over one shoulder. God, he was lucky. She loved him. Truly did. The barriers that had kept her at a distance were gone now, and she was his completely. Even if this wasn’t the best situation, Greg felt happy. Complete. He wanted the same for her, and that would never happen if she didn’t heed Fate’s call.

Okay. Time to turn down the distrust and pay Mateo’s revelation with one of their own.

Sam turned her warm, honey-colored gaze on him. An unspoken message passed between them, and he immediately knew she felt the same way. She nodded, encouraging him to speak freely. He thought for a moment, wondering what would represent a fair exchange.

A truth for a truth.

After pondering for a few seconds, he shook his head. There wasn’t a scale that could measure such a thing. Trust was either whole or not there at all.

His gaze wandered back to Mateo. He had lowered his head to hide his eyes. Still, the pain that the memory of this past love caused him was plain to see, even in the angle of his shoulders and the wringing of his hands.

It was all Greg needed to make up his mind, so he said, “We met the Regent, two months ago. We were taken there by her son, Ashby Rothblade.”

Mateo straightened and pushed back on his chair, looking more troubled than before.

A niggling feeling itched in the back of Greg’s mind, something that made him hesitate a bit. In spite of that he continued, “He and Sam were Companions.”

Sam gasped, then seemed to stop breathing, as if, by the very action, she meant to hold more than the air within her lungs. She seized his hand and squeezed his fingers, never taking her eyes off Mateo.

That was when the itch in the back of Greg’s head blossomed into full knowledge. As everything fell into place, he tried to deny the realization that now was as clear as a command from his Keeper instincts, but he couldn’t. The puzzle pieces had clicked together, and needed only Mateo’s next question to solidify into place.

“You and . . . Ashby were Companions?” he asked in a tremulous voice, his black eyes suddenly so familiar.

“Oh, no,” Sam said in a barely audible voice.

“Do you mean to tell me Danata severed your bond between you and Ashby?” The passion and concern in Mateo’s question erased what little doubt was left in Greg.

This man was Ashby’s father.

Fate and its cruel sense of humor was getting very, very old. Well, if they were here to rip the Band-Aid, maybe it was best to do it in one swift pull, telling him everything, even his son’s fate.

Mateo was looking at Sam, eyebrows knitted together. “But you said your skill . . . Could you not repair the bond? Were you not given a chance?” he pleaded.

His apprehension revealed a great deal. Mainly that Mateo understood vinculums and what severing them could do to a person. Had he known all along what was wrong with the guests at the shelter? Had he known of Danata’s ability to see and rip links between Morphids? He must have. Clearly, the Regent had given him plenty of reason to hate her. Maybe he too had witnessed the extent and effects of her cruelty.

“No, she wasn’t given a chance and,” Greg paused and braced himself, “even if there had been an opportunity, it would’ve done no good.”

“What, what do you mean?” Mateo asked.

“Unfortunately, Ashby . . . didn’t survive the separation. It was too much for him to handle. Sam and I barely escaped with our lives. I’m sorry to give you this bad news.”

“Ashby is dead.” Mateo’s words had the slightest hint of hesitation in them, as if he’d meant to ask a question, but in the end had seen no point in it.

Greg nodded once. Sam was quiet and still at his side. He couldn’t help but wonder what she felt when she thought of Ashby, and whether or not she thought of him often. It was wrong of him to be jealous. By all the laws and rights of their Morphid nature, Sam and Ashby had belonged together. Greg had been wrong to fall in love with her, to care so deeply, well past his responsibilities as Keeper, but he had . . . he did.

Nothing would change that.

And, in spite of it all, they were together. Fate had allowed it. Maybe even spurred it. That wasn’t a far-fetched concept, was it? If everything happened according to Fate, then everything that had transpired was meant to be. What hope did he have trying to resist?

Not for the first time, Greg tried to believe this line of reasoning. It made sense. It was logical, and yet . . . something didn’t feel right. The love he shared with Sam was outside the boundaries of proper Morphid instincts. What if there was no chance this could end well?

He shook himself, realizing these thoughts had snatched his attention for several beats. As he looked around, however, it was evident he wasn’t the only one lost inside his own turmoil.

Sam, eyes closed, was taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Mateo was staring into space at a faraway point that might have been a thousand miles away, well beyond the confines of his tiny office.

When he noticed Greg watching, he blinked. For a moment, his eyes wavered, and Greg thought he saw tears in them, but Mateo kept his cool and, after a quick shake of his head, regained his collected attitude.

“The last time I saw Ashby he was little more than a baby,” Mateo started, the tone of his voice marking the beginning of a story and his decision to fully trust his unexpected guests. “He was a joy to me, a most welcome surprise for someone who wasn’t born to be a father.”

He dug in one of his drawers and pulled out a small photo album. He flipped the cover open to reveal the first picture. In it, a blond, rosy-cheeked baby sat on a grassy patch next to a flowering bush. His chubby feet and legs were bare and full of dimples. He had a happy smile on his face and his dark eyes sparkled with vivacity. Greg looked away, painfully aware of the contrast between the happy child and the surly Ashby he’d met. Sam inhaled sharply and focused on the tips of her shoes, probably sharing Greg’s impression.

“I never resented my caste. Being a Caretaker was my calling. It fulfilled me, the way it was supposed to. That was until I met Danata. I was at a party at my father’s house in Barcelona. She and her sister, Roanna, were in attendance. Danata was not the Regent, then. By our laws, that responsibility always falls to the oldest Morphid to bear the staff and crown mark. And the job fell to Roanna.

“The sisters stayed for a week after the party. Roanna had affairs to discuss with my father. So, in the meantime, it fell to me to keep Danata entertained. As impossible as it might sound for a Singular to harbor such feelings, she enthralled me.”

Greg shifted in his seat. Not impossible, not at all. That was exactly what had happened when he met Sam. So maybe it wasn’t unheard of. Maybe it was just one of those taboos people didn’t talk about.

“She was beautiful,” Mateo continued, “self-assured, quick-witted. By my father’s instructions, I was supposed to attend to her every whim. It should have been easy for someone with my skills. But, regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. My skills failed me miserably with her, and that intrigued me, kept my interest. I wanted to figure her out. I thought she must be a very complex soul.” He scoffed disdainfully to let them know how wrong he had been.

“When it was time for Roanna to leave, I found it impossible to stay behind. A mere day after their departure, I packed my bags and followed Danata to England. She was attending school in Cambridge, amongst humans. I found a job as a social worker and, like a fool, courted her. She encouraged me, though. It wasn’t entirely my fault.” He smiled sadly.

Greg spared a sideways glance in Sam’s direction. She was sitting erect now, her eyes wide open and intent on Mateo’s face. The story had her entire attention.

“In retrospect, I see how different she was then, compared to that first week in Barcelona. At the time, though, I was too blind to see how . . . unhappy she was, how aimless. She didn’t really care for her studies. She spent as much time in Cambridge as she did in Rothblade Castle. She went back and forth while I followed her all over like a puppy dog.

“I can’t say I was welcomed there. The council had objections about our relationship, as unnatural as it was.” Mateo sighed and ran a hand over his face. “But Roanna supported us, so they turned a blind eye, even if the gossip suggested that nothing good could come out of what we had together.”

Greg blinked slowly when he felt Sam’s attention turn in his direction.

Nothing good. Nothing good.

The words echoed in Greg’s ears, leaving an imprint in the back of his mind and the impression that they’d come from Sam. Doggedly, he refused to return her gaze and acknowledge the shared thought. This was Mateo’s story.

Not ours. Not ours!

Mateo continued, “When Ashby was born, I thought we had proved them all wrong. She was delighted, just as I was. I thought myself so unworthy of that happiness, but it wasn’t until my blind skill finally opened up to her that I realized that joy was truly undeserved. It all ended so swiftly. One day, I was there tending to my baby boy, keeping him smiling as only I knew how to do. The next, I woke up and I suddenly knew exactly what Danata wanted.” He paused and seemed to shiver as if he were rediscovering the awful truth.

Mateo’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Hers was not a simple want. No. It was something more than that. It was a desire, an ambition such as I’ve never sensed before. What she wanted was her sister’s place.

“What she wanted was the Regency.”