Illusion(5)

Fuming, I felt my cheeks flush with anger as my mind absorbed his words. If possible, I was more livid than before. Not only did my father sit back and watch me struggle with my abilities, he let Stefan continue his search for me when he knew exactly where I was all along. I could add these things to my growing list of reasons to be suspicious of my father.

“You knew all along that Stefan would be my mate?” I seethed. The word “mate” felt odd saying it aloud for the first time. “Why didn't you tell him where I was 10 years ago, Kian? He spent so many years looking for me. We wasted so much time. It was time that we could have been together.”

He smiled softly, his green eyes gleaming. “Josephine, you were not ready to meet him. You would have barely been 18.” Kian sat back in his chair. “I understand your frustration. It must seem unfair that you spent so many unhappy years alone, my dear. I am sorry that you suffered.

He was sorry that I suffered?! That's the only apology he was willing to offer after abandoning me as an infant to strangers? “I can't discuss all of that with you right now, Kian. It's too much to take in. I'm tired and I just want to find Stefan so we can leave. We can talk about this some other time.”

“Josephine, you have 28 years worth of questions. When you are ready, we will talk.” He nodded in agreement and hesitated as if considering what to say next. “I am pleased he found you. You complete each other.”

Shrugging, I gripped the arms of the chair. I was almost ready to stand when a thought occurred to me. Kian was older than Stefan and it made me curious to discover what he knew about him. “How long have you known Stefan?”

“I had not had the pleasure of meeting him until today. However, I have known of Stefan for 875 years. He was Steafedn Hlífsteinn when he captured the Board's attention, a young vampire with powerful abilities and strength. Many years passed and his name changed with the times. Hence we have the Stefan Lifsten you know today.”

“Steafedn Hlífsteinn,” I repeated softly. My tongue struggled over the syllables of his name. “I feel horrible that I've never asked him these things.”

“Your love for him is new. Eventually you would have asked.”

My father leaned over to softly stroke my cheek. I unconsciously flinched at his touch, pressing my back deeper into the chair to put more distance between us.

“I do not mean to scare you, Josephine.”

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to smile. “Tell me more about Stefan.”

“Stefan,” he said, tenting his fingers under his chin. “He was remarkable as a human, a protector of his family. He was fortunate and came from what would have been a wealthy family during his human life. He had an extraordinary way of predicting the plans of his enemies. Of course, we know why that is.” He raised an eyebrow, the red hair bright against the pallor of his face. “Even his premonitions could not save him during his final human encounter. He was fatally wounded in 1070. If Solveig had not changed him, he would have bled to death on a cold spring night of that year. Don’t you see, Josephine? My dear, he died that night to be reborn for you.”

I let his words sink in for a moment. Had fate intervened almost 1,000 years ago, sparing the man that would be my soul mate? Listening to my father tell his story made me grasp the enormity of Stefan’s vision 200 years ago. I attempted to swallow back the lump that had taken up residence in my throat, unable to control the hot tears that spilled from my eyes.

My father leaned forward again, only this time to offer me a crisp linen handkerchief.

“Thank you.” I carefully took the tissue from him, dabbing at my eyes. “Why did his maker choose to turn him?”

“Josephine,” he chided softly. “Vampires are not different from humans. We covet the exceptional and beautiful specimens, choosing to change those that will make excellent additions to our race. We too believe in survival of the fittest.”

He rubbed a single finger across his chin. “Stefan is a rarity even by today’s standards. Imagine seeing him during a time when beauty and intelligence was scarce. Solveig was lucky to have such a child, almost blessed when you factor in his invaluable ability.”

“His maker was lucky?” The thought slipped out before I could stop it. I vaguely recalled Stefan’s words, explaining that his maker had been killed by the Council. I waited to see if my father would own up to Solveig’s demise.

His expression became devoid of any expression, as flat as a mirror. “It is not my story to tell, Josephine. As his mate, you will share everything. I am sure Stefan will tell you when the time is right.”