Beta Lyrae

Much later, in the most secure bolthole the viceroy could offer, Maddy waited for her niece to wake up.

She’d sent the others away, though a few had offered to be here, and she’d made note of who: Amelia, kinder than most but a banner swaying in the king’s wind; the viceroy himself, which somehow wasn’t a surprise; St. John, who’d slipped in the back door two safehouses ago and waved off fear and protest with Irene’s name. His support she appreciated, at least. But this was something she had to do alone.

It would probably be better for the girl too. (Maddy certainly couldn’t conscience subjecting her to the viceroy so soon.

He would still be listening, of course—ready to counter the girl’s powers with his own, since he hadn’t been willing to use Cove devices to suppress them.)

The girl. She was sick of not having a name for her only kin in Genosha. (In the world, a traitor part of herself whispered.)

Her only kin was waking, finally.

“You’re not—”

Best head that off as soon as possible. “I’m your Aunt Maddy. Your mother’s sister, though I wasn’t… raised with her.”

Let her be John Grey’s bastard. It was probably an insult to the man, but Maddy was past caring. And it was the cleanest explanation she could give.

(Like hell was she going to tell this girl she was her stepmother. If that was even still true.)

But there were more immediate concerns than her past. “You’re safe here.”

Her niece looked distinctly unconvinced. Maddy wished she had her “sister’s” gifts, just now. Or the viceroy’s charisma.

“But I shouldn’t be. I’ve—I’ve done such…”

No one here blames you, Maddy wanted to tell her. But she didn’t know if that was true, and she wasn’t about to risk telling a lie the girl could catch so easily. Instead she said, “None of that was your fault. You’re not the only person here who’s been forced to do—harm.” She paused, and added in a softer tone, “You aren’t the only one who’s been an enemy’s tool. Or weapon.”

Maybe it was the bitterness in her voice that convinced the girl. She relaxed, just a bit—still tense, but no longer at the point of snapping.

“I do need something to call you.” Something that wasn’t hound, or girl, or my niece. Although Maddy would have to get used to that last one, she knew.

“…My name’s Rachel.”

“A good name,” Maddy said, because she had to say something, and it might as well be that. From the—Rachel’s reaction, it was a good choice.

“It’s not going to be easy,” she said gently, “but I’ll be there to catch you when you fall.”

She meant it.