Julian cocked a brow at her. “I should have known you’d be familiar with the old ways. The gentle fop you met was the real Lord Stroud until I gathered his soul this past September.” His mouth curled to a grin. “I believe the minor changes greatly improved his personality. Don’t you agree, my lady?”
A tremor passed through my legs. Dead for three months... How could I have not known? It seemed inconceivable regardless that I had never met the real Lord Stroud.
“And where is his lordship now?” Cate asked, ignoring his question.
Julian waved his free hand to indicate distance. “A shallow grave somewhere between London and his estate in the south. We were traveling together to his home to use Brigid’s altar when I slit his throat.”
I gasped, drawing Julian’s attention. Not Julian, my mind screamed. An imposter.
“You didn’t miss much, love. His lordship was a fair-faced bore, more concerned with plants than anything else.” His gaze dipped to my lips. “Strawberries, I’ll admit, have their benefit, and I’ve dreamt of tasting them on you again.”
“Hold your tongue,” Henry growled. “Or I’ll remove it with your head.” Rage permeated the air around him. Rolling his large shoulders, he appeared a lion preparing to pounce.
“Try it, Englishman, and the lass is dead.”
The temptation for battle warred over Henry’s face. A muscle twitched in his cheek as his knuckles strained around the sword pommel.
Tom intervened, his steady voice slicing between them. “The witch didn’t put up much of a fight, otherwise you’d never have gotten a knife in her heart while she was sitting still.” He held up Brigid’s blade and slowly turned the handle between his fingers. “She knew you well.” Another turn of the knife. “And she trusted you, much like a woman would trust a lover. I’ll wager when you killed her, she was trying to breed to replace one more of her lost sons.”
Julian laughed again, louder and more abrupt, and for a split second his eyes flicked over Henry. “Oh, she was looking to breed, but not with me.” He shook his head. “The love we shared was different than you think.”
I darted a swift look at Carmen, my eyes narrowing on the raven locks that fell to her waist. “Because she was your mother,” I said, near breathless from the revelation.
Julian gave me an appreciative look. “Well done, Selah. How did you guess it?”
“Your hair. It turned black when we were in Brigid’s garden.”
“Ah, yes, I got my mother’s coloring. But it’s my father I favor most.”
“And who might that be?” Cate asked. “A goddess born, I suppose, in order for you to fool Lord Stroud.”
“He’s no stranger to you,” Julian agreed.
Tom grunted his growing annoyance. “Time’s come to pay for your tales, lad. If what you claim is true, then show us your real self.”
Amusement glittered in Julian’s dark eyes. “I thought you would never ask.” His gaze settled on me, shrewd and deliberate beneath what I now understood to be a living mask. My heart skipped a beat when the air rippled around him, and his face began to waver. It lasted but a moment before the lines took new form, and the once-delicate features gave way to a broader forehead, squared chin and wider cheekbones. His hair darkened to raven black.
The torches flickered through his alteration, their power momentarily disturbed. Reality seemed to flicker around me in a similar manner until my head felt near to bursting. One of the men cursed, or perhaps both.
“Saints above,” Cate whispered. “It can’t be.”
Julian smirked at her. “See something interesting, my lady?” His voice sounded deeper, with the hint of an Irish lilt. Marin’s mouth popped open, and she twisted around to steal a glimpse at his face.
“Luthais,” she hissed.
“Aye, Marin, you know me now.”
“We thought you’d gone for good after you disappeared last spring.”
He chuckled. “Were you sad, lass?”
“Not a wee bit,” she ground out. “I wish it even more with what you did to me Sean.”
Tightening his grip, he yanked her head back against his chest. “Don’t be rude, Marin. It’s not good for Sean’s health.”
She winced from the pain, her hands fisted and her mouth clamped tight against what appeared to be an onslaught of angry words.
“Luthais...” The name fell unknown from my lips.
Julian waved it off. “Just an alias I used while living amongst the goddess born.”
Another lie. “Who are you really?”
A spark flared in his eyes, and I realized this one part remained familiar despite the transformation. “My mother named me Díoltas.”
The throbbing increased at my temples. “Vengeance,” I said, my voice cracking over the translation.
The man looked at me with something close to kindness. “Only the coverings have changed.” He circled a hand over his face. “This is the man you cared for, not Lord Stroud. It was me that you gave assurances to in Brigid’s garden.”