Liam Takes Manhattan (Elder Races #9.5)

He turned slightly at that. “What do you mean?”


“Before Tatiana split from the Seelie Court to form her demesne in Los Angeles, her twin sister Isabeau, the Light Fae Queen of the Seelie Court, and Dragos shared some kind of past together, and your father can’t remember anything about it.”

That brought him all the way around again. Frowning, he met Dragos’s gaze. “Is that part of your memory loss from the construction accident a few months ago?”

“Yes,” Dragos said, his voice edged. “Apparently I spent some time at the Seelie Court, and I don’t know if Isabeau and I parted as friends or not. All we really know is that Isabeau is very dangerous, and so is her private army. After watching her attack on her sister’s demesne, it’s clear that she’s not inclined to be a forgiving sort of woman. The United Kingdom isn’t the safest place for a Cuelebre to be, Liam.”

Exasperated, Liam flung up both hands. “The United Kingdom is a big place, Dad. Not only that, but Glenhaven closes their passageway during every term.”

Dragos folded his arms. “The United Kingdom might be a big place, but in many ways, the Elder Races world is a small one. Being my son will attract a lot of attention wherever you go.”

Quickly, Liam crossed the living room. He said eagerly, “But that’s the beauty of this—I don’t want to go to college as a Cuelebre.”

Pia stared at him. “Why not?”

He couldn’t keep his fists from clenching again, as he said, “For the exact reason Dad just brought up. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a really hard act to follow. Your reputation is—well, it’s just everywhere. There’s no place I can go to escape it if I go as Liam Cuelebre.”

Dragos’s expression didn’t change, but he blinked. He said roughly, “I didn’t know you were having a problem with being my son, or that you felt the need to escape.”

Agh. Now he had managed to hurt both his parents. Way to go, asshole.

Forcing his way past his own frustration, he reached for gentleness. “That’s not what I meant. I love you, and I am proud to be your son. I’m just finding it difficult to live in your shadow. I have to figure out my own way to go in life.” He looked at Pia. “I used your maiden name. I set up a new email address, rented a P.O. box, and I filled out the Glenhaven application as Liam Giovanni. I’m pretty sure that guy doesn’t have a reputation anywhere that he needs to watch out for.” He paused, and then in as neutral a tone as he could manage, he added, “Not only that, but he would probably qualify for either an academic or magical scholarship.”

With that, he put everything out there. He knew he was gifted intellectually and magically. While he didn’t come right out and say it, the information made it clear—he didn’t need his parents’ money to go to college. He didn’t need their approval.

And he could see in their expressions that they knew it too. Pia blinked rapidly as she absorbed everything he said, while Dragos rubbed his forehead.

Liam’s chest felt funny, heavy and dull. He walked over to the couch to sit beside his mom again and put his arm around her. As she leaned against his side, he hugged her and whispered, “I’ve really thought this through, and I want you to be happy for me.”

“Okay,” Dragos said suddenly. Both Pia and Liam turned to him in surprise.

“Okay?” Liam asked, hardly daring to hope. “You mean, it’s okay if I go?”

“I’ve listened to your argument, and I’ve changed my mind. I think you’re right.” Dragos leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hard-edged face looked alert. He looked at Pia. “This idea will work. We’ve always protected Liam’s privacy, and we’ve kept a tight lid on his growth spurts. Even those who do know wouldn’t necessarily recognize him after this latest one. Look at him. He looks more like you than he does me.”

Nodding, Pia wiped her face. She said to Liam, “You would have to keep your Wyr form a secret. Sometimes that takes some tap dancing so you would have to stay on your guard, but you can do it.”

“And I won’t hear another word about you taking a scholarship,” Dragos added. “You’re my son. I will pay for your college, and living expenses, and anything else you need while you’re in school.”

This time, his father’s autocratic way of speaking didn’t bother him in the slightest. The heavy dull feeling eased, to be replaced by a rush of emotion so intense, tears sprang to his eyes again.

He muttered around a lump in his throat, “Thanks.”

“Of course”—Dragos met his gaze—“I have stipulations.”