Page 116 of Consort's Glory
Theodore didn’t argue like Margot expected him to. Instead, he stroked her hair calmly and asked, “Then what is she?”
Olivier slammed a hand on the polished surface of Theodore’s desk, his claw-caps raking across the wood with a terrible ripping sound. “She’s my sister!”
* * *
On the list of things he wanted to do in the hours after marrying the woman of his dreams, sitting across from Olivier du Soleil as he glared holes in the side of his head didn’t even make it onto the page.
Theodore rubbed his eyes in time with the soothing circles he drew on Margot’s tense back. Of all the families, she had to be a du Soleil.
What a price to pay for an otherwise perfect partner! In-laws who not only hated him on principle, but who he would happily see tied to the pylons at the bottom of the Golden Gate.
It was not just because they made his life as difficult as they possibly could in the months leading up to Delilah’s abdication, but because he now knew they put the shadows in Margot’s eyes; were responsible for the hurt she wore so close to her heart. The political machinations he could accept. The treatment of his consort he could never forgive.
But Margot needed him to be the level head in the room right now. Olivier was still entirely convinced that Theodore was plotting to ruin his family by destroying Margot, and she was… not entirely present.
Worry gnawed at Theodore when he glanced at her. Margot was pale, her eyes locked on her kneecaps, her soothing inner voice distressingly silent. Instinct urged him to pull her into his lap and nuzzle her until that icy distance shattered, but man and sovereign knew that wasn’t the answer.
Dropping his hands to dangle his fingers between his bent knees, he said, “Explain, Olivier. Don’t just stare.”
He could feel that icy glare trying to drill holes in him, but Theodore was made of sterner stuff than the lean, handsome elf sitting in the gray arm chair across from him.
Olivier’s sharp jaw worked, the muscles clenching and unclenching as he no doubt fought the instinctive urge to snap back. Theodore caught his quick glance at Margot and watched, fascinated, as the man swallowed his acerbic response.
Keeping his eyes on Margot, Olivier said, “My mother Tatiana had an affair with George Goode twenty-five years ago. Margot is the result of that affair.”
He felt Margot stiffen as a streak of horror passed through their bond. Oh, gods, my mother was married?
Unlikely,he assured her. I believe she has a union with the du Soleils, but like most unions, it’s for business and procreative purposes. Affairs are very common amongst our kind, darling, remember?
Margot’s fingers clenched in the hem of her skirt. How common?
Cursing himself, he ran his hand up and down her back with more urgency, like that might take the sting out of his words. Amongst unions? Very. Amongst consorts? Never.
So you won’t…
Theodore’s heart ached for the soft, tremulous sound of her inner voice. Never. Never, darling.
Reining in the temper that wanted to take a swipe at the whelp for bringing up a subject that neither he nor his consort enjoyed, Theodore bit out, “Explain to me why she was left with her human family and not, as is the standard, raised in seclusion with those who would protect her.”
Olivier crossed his arms over his chest. Everything in his posture and expression screamed that he did not want to answer, but when his gaze flicked in Margot’s direction, he took in the pallid state of her skin, her distant gaze, her white-knuckled fists, and gave in. “Mother isn’t… she’s not well,” he admitted. “She hasn’t been well for a long time. After my birth, she suffered through many losses. Too many. Her and my father struggled to have another child for too long.”
Olivier paused long enough to meet Theodore’s eye. A silent understanding passed between them. No one spoke about those great, tearing losses, but everyone knew someone who suffered them. Another reason to end this suicidal experiment in self-preservation.
“Mother was happy when she spent time with her lover,” Olivier continued. He closed his eyes, the ripples of painful memories bleeding across his face.
Damn, Theodore thought sourly, I hate to sympathize with him.
“I was too young to understand it at the time, but I remember her coming home from business trips in the Goodeland and being… better. Lighter.” He shook his head. “When she discovered she was pregnant? It was a miracle. Father was overjoyed, of course. He only ever wanted her to be happy. When they found out she was pregnant, he was ecstatic.”
Theodore felt Margot jolt with surprise. No doubt it was a shock to her that Marcus would eagerly anticipate the birth of a child he didn’t father, but it made sense to Theodore. Any child was a gift — a child born to the woman he loved even moreso. After all, a union didn’t mean there was no love between them. In all likelihood, Marcus cared deeply for Tatiana and would have loved her daughter just as much. Any self-respecting elf would.
Olivier rolled his tense shoulders, as if the memories made him restless. “But Mother… Mother was afraid. Every day, she lived in terror that it would be another loss.”
He swallowed hard. “I remember those days clearly. The fear was a kind of madness. She’d shut herself up one day, convinced too much exertion would poison the pregnancy, and then refuse to sleep indoors the next night, telling us only fresh air would keep the baby healthy. It went on like that until the day…” His eyes opened to fix on Margot with a soft, longing look that shocked Theodore. “Until the day you were born.”
Theodore felt Margot unthaw a little, her eyes lifting to focus on her half-brother with all the cautiousness of a bruised creature.
Olivier leaned forward in his chair, apparently forgetting Theodore for the moment, and clasped his hands between his knees. “Margot,” he said, earnest, “I was there. Your grandmother invited us to use a cabin in the Goodeland for your birth. We stayed there for a week, and when you came, my father was the one to cut the cord. He was so proud.” Olivier’s voice broke. “But I was the first to hold you, after Mother. You were so small, I… I’ve never loved anything so fiercely as I love you.”
