“Grace?” Ridge slanted her a look.
“Yeah. I mean, the man is a legendary seducer. He and Arthur’s wife . . . ”
“Legends often exaggerate. It really wasn’t that simple. Besides, Grace and Lance are Truebonded. Neither of them could cheat now even if they wanted to.”
“Truebonded?” She glanced over at him, curious.
“A deep magical union Magekind couples create. Truebonded partners can sense each other’s emotions, even thoughts. They can use the bond to reinforce one another’s powers magically. It’s the most profound kind of marriage two people can share.”
She frowned deeply, considering the idea. “Doesn’t sound like you’d have a lot of privacy.”
“I’m told you learn how and when to give each other space.”
Looking up into his handsome face, Kat found herself wondering what it would be like to share that kind of relationship with Ridge.
It sounded . . . intriguing.
at leaned against the gleaming stone countertop in Ridge’s kitchen, sipped her wine, and watched him chop salad vegetables with impressive skill.
For a man who didn’t eat, he certainly seemed to know his way around a kitchen. The mouthwatering smell of cooking meat curled up from the oven, where a steak was currently on the broil.
“There’s something you need to know,” Ridge began as he tossed the salad. “It may make the situation with Lance a little more understandable. And besides, nobody needs to become a Maja without knowing this stuff.”
She studied him over the rim of her wineglass. The Riesling was delicately fruity and sweet. “And that would be?”
“Only about one in a hundred of our children can become Magekind without going insane,” Ridge told her bluntly. “And it’s not an insanity that we can treat. That’s why the Magi are under orders not to use protection when they have sex. We need every Latent we can get in order to have any chance of finding one who can survive the Gift.”
Kat’s eyes widened. “But that means—”
“We have to watch the vast majority of our children die of old age. Lance told me once that he’d lost fifty-two children and grandchildren that way, before he decided he could no longer stand to have any contact with his mortal offspring.”
“Fifty-two?” If the loss of one child had almost driven her mother insane, how had Lance tolerated watching child after child die?
“Then there’s the problem of raising mortal children in the Mageverse, among immortals who do magic without even thinking about it.” He turned toward the stove, opened the oven door, and reached in with a pair of tongs to turn the steak. “The results are often not particularly positive for the child.”
“How?” Kat frowned, chilled.
“Well, take Sir Bors’s son.” Closing the oven door again, Ridge turned to lean against the counter, muscles shifting as he crossed his arms. “He was so furious when he was denied the chance to become immortal that he became a follower of a magical demon. He attempted to sacrifice Arthur in an act of death magic that would have destroyed us all. Luckily, Arthur and his knights got to him first.”
“My God.” Kat rubbed her hands over her face. “So you’re saying if I become a Maja, I won’t be able to risk children.”
Ridge shrugged. “You can have them. You may not want to raise them. Many Majae put their children up for adoption on Mortal Earth. That way the child has a chance of a reasonably happy life, without ever knowing about the one-in-a-hundred chance of winning the genetic lottery.”
“And that’s the real reason Lancelot made no attempt to contact my mother.”
“Yeah, that would be it.”
After Kat ate, she and Ridge retreated to his bedroom. “Sun’ll be coming up in an hour,” he told her. “I’ll go into the Daysleep then.”
Kat nodded. Grace had told her vampires had to sleep during the day as their bodies recharged. They needed the magical energies of the Mageverse every bit as much as blood.
Ridge stepped closer and drew her into his arms. “But I’ve found over the years,” he purred, “you can do a lot in an hour.”
EIGHT
Ashaft of rose light woke Kat. She opened her eyes to the sight of a glowing stained-glass window, apparently designed to render the sunlight safe to vampire skin.
She blinked sleepily, enjoying the play of color through the muscular unicorn the window depicted. Roses wreathed its thick blue neck as it pranced through a sunlit wood to greet a blond lady in a long medieval gown in dark blue and gold. Ivy twined up the great animal’s spiral horn. The woman looked as besotted with the unicorn as he did with her no-doubt virginal self.