Occasional snippets of dreams that came to fruition, but she’d heard average Americans talk on TV about having the same experience. “Very little. Except Marrok and I had the same dream.”

“Of each other?”

Hoping like hell that no one could see her flushing cheeks, she nodded.

“When?” he asked.

“A few days ago. The night before we met.”

Richard frowned again. “Sometimes, females call to their mates through dreams. If you dreamed of him, your heart magic guided you to him.”

Olivia blinked. There was that word again: mates. And the way he talked about it definitely sounded like a husband/ wife thing.

“What do you mean by mates?”

Bram coughed. Olivia glanced over her shoulder. Marrok glowered.

“Heart mates,” her father said, as if that explained everything.

She whirled back. “You mean like, ‘until death do us part’ sort of mates?”

“Yes.” Given his sour tone, her father wasn’t happy to be confirming that.

Did that mean magic compelled Marrok to be with her, that he wasn’t with her of his own free will? Without this magical bond, would he even want her?

Dear God, if mere news was ever going to make her sick, now was the time.

She whipped her gaze to Marrok. His stony countenance revealed nothing, but the very absence of surprise was a bomb to her. He’d known they were mated. And he hadn’t told her.

Anger, distress, and uncertainty blended to make a potent emotional cocktail that juiced her bloodstream. She felt like bouncing off the walls…or hitting an immortal warrior.

But she’d confront Marrok later. Alone. It was damn hard to hold in her fury and humiliation. But now wasn’t the time, and here wasn’t the place. After this party, they would have their first fight as a “married” couple. That was something to look forward to.

For now, she turned to Bram. “Did you suspect when you introduced us?”

“That you would be mates? No. I only knew you were a le Fay and that you might have some means of helping Marrok end his curse.”

Of course. The reason Marrok began this “romance” with her. “Why would you care about helping Marrok?”

Bram merely smiled. “He knows what I want.”

“You really should not yet have a mate,” her father chimed in.

Olivia frowned. It wasn’t as if she’d taken out a bridal registry the moment she’d met Marrok. “Meaning?”

Richard must have sensed her growing anger, because his voice dropped to a soothing level. “Parents usually recommend their younglings refrain from forming a mate bond until after attaining their powers. It can be very dangerous otherwise.”

Dangerous? She mentally riffled through the moments before she and Marrok had first joined. She’d felt so weak, and he’d been her beacon of strength. Something inside had compelled her to speak words to him. Unfamiliar words. Words that had swirled around in her head—a jumble of confusion amid her hazy, scattered world. Shortly after Marrok touched her, the words formed and…she’d been unable to not say them.

Apparently those words had been the magical equivalent of wedding vows.

“I had no way of knowing that mating before getting my powers was dangerous. Mom certainly never warned me when not to get hitched, and since this is our first meeting, it’s a little inappropriate for fatherly advice on the mating front.”

Richard hung his head. “I haven’t been a father to you. I’m sorry.”

His dejection made her feel like a major bitch. And still she had a question. “If you knew about me, where have you been for the last twenty-three years?”

“Your mother…” he sighed. “Left me.”

Olivia frowned. “Did she refuse to let you see me?”

Richard cast an uneasy glance at Bram, as if looking for privacy. The younger wizard clearly wasn’t budging from the room. Behind her, Olivia felt Marrok’s solid presence.

“Yes,” her father murmured. “You were conceived during dangerous times for me and—No, I must go back further. You know nothing of magical history, I presume?”

“Good guess.”

“Four hundred years ago, an evil wizard named Mathias d’Arc gathered followers with the idea of crushing the current order in the magical world. He named his minions the Anarki.”

“Why would he want anarchy?”

He shot another careful gaze at Bram. “Magickind is divided into the Privileged and the Deprived. After some unfortunate deaths about five hundred years ago, the Council enacted the Social Order, which outlawed magicfolk with certain magical traits or diseases from professions in which they could influence crowds or harm younglings. What really happened is that anyone of a bloodline that had ever produced a witch or wizard with any tendency to violence was affected. Soon, once prosperous families no longer had their jobs and fell into poverty. Richer ones simply paid the Council’s minions to dismiss transgressions. Anger, divisiveness and finger pointing become the norm. Magickind has been divided since.”

Magical segregation?

“Mathias came along a hundred years after the Social Order. His philosophy made him the Karl Marx of the magical world, and his Anarki like the Bolsheviks. He wanted to balance the power structure and make magickind equal.”

“That isn’t the same thing as creating chaos.”

“To the Privileged, it is. He didn’t care how many wizards, witches, or younglings he had to kill to achieve his supposed utopia,” Bram snarled.

Richard jumped in again. “Not everyone understood that about him right away. The oppressed were tired of being poor, of getting no respect, often for reasons completely beyond their control. They had no family fortunes to recommend them and wanted more opportunity for their children. Many said it was heartbreaking to look at your infant and know he or she was doomed to hundreds of years of prejudice and squalor.”

“Which is why I’ve always advocated change within the system,” Bram pointed out. “I agree that originally the Council did it badly. But matters will improve.”

Her father sneered. “Rubbish. The Council does nothing but bicker. They are made up of Privileged like you who cannot possibly understand what the Deprived endure.”

“Reshaping the beliefs of people steeped in tradition isn’t quick.”

“We’ve been ‘patient’ for hundreds of years.”

“Was impatience the reason you sided with Mathias? You like the bloody ravages of war?”

Olivia’s father ignored Bram and turned his attention back to her. “Two hundred years ago, I saw Mathias for what he was and helped bring about his demise, but that came at a terrible price. The Anarki were minus a leader, a rallying symbol for their cause. They wanted revenge and they pursued me. So I fled England.”

“You went to America?” Olivia surmised.

He nodded. “I met your mother and persuaded her to return with me to England. We were happy for a time until the Anarki found me shortly after you were conceived. When we were attacked, I was forced to reveal my powers to your mother to defend us.”

“She didn’t know?” Olivia felt her eyes go round. “She would have been terrified.”

“Utterly. That was the beginning of the end. I tried to explain and begged her to stay.” He shook his head. “She refused to hear a word of my explanations and ran. I did not know she was pregnant when she left. I didn’t learn about you for three years, and only then because I had another run-in with the Anarki, who told me they’d tried to kill my daughter.”

“The Anarki wanted to kill me?”

“The product of my bloodline? Yes. Using my power to bring down their leader was an act of war.”

Olivia paused, taking in the fantastical information. Less than a week ago, she’d been a normal, if broke, American living in London. Now, she was the mate of a cursed immortal seeking death and the descendant of one of the most commanding bloodlines in magical history. Oh, and she apparently had a target on her back. Life was sure looking up.

How much of this had Marrok known?

She turned a questioning glance to him, but he didn’t seem too shocked.

“That explains why we moved so often when I was a child. Mom would suddenly decide to pack up whatever rental house we were living in, load everything into her tiny car, and drive as far as a few tanks of gas would take us. I always thought she was insane.”

“She was cautious,” Richard corrected. “And she had a duty to protect you.”

Oh, yes. If her mother had done anything by her, it was her duty. Barbara had reminded her daily of the difficulties and sacrifices of having a daughter. Olivia bet the woman had blamed her for each and every relocation—obligations to keep her daughter safe. No wonder she’d refused to tell Olivia about Richard Gray, even with her dying breath. To the end, she’d been performing her protective responsibility.

Olivia teared up again. “She resented me for ruining her life, and now I know why.”

Richard clasped a soft hand around her shoulder. “Barbara wasn’t a cold woman. I’m sure she wanted to love you, but was afraid both for you and of you. After she saw what sort of magic I was capable of, she would have feared you’d inherit that—almost as much as she feared the Anarki.”

As hot tears spilled down her cheeks, running her mascara, Olivia suspected Richard was right. Forgiveness washed through her at the same time that anger poured back in. Why hadn’t her mother ever said that she loved her daughter, just once?

“So Mom never told you about me and refused to answer your letters because she didn’t want me in any additional danger.”

“I’m certain of it. I vowed to do everything in my power to keep you both safe. I would have promised her the moon if I believed it would help. I wanted my mate back.”

Olivia gasped. “You were mated?”

“Children are much easier to conceive in the magical world if you are.”

Oh. Did that mean that she and Marrok could soon be…magical parents?

Bram whispered in her ear. “In case you were wondering, you cannot conceive before transition.”

His answer was welcome. Maybe now wasn’t the best time for motherhood.

Marrok frowned. “How is it possible her parents were apart with no…ill effects?”

“The illness Olivia experienced in being separated from you was the result of being a mated but untransitioned witch. This is a critical time in her life, and she needs a lot of power. Sort of like starving a teenager going through a growth spurt. Your vitality will sustain her. Olivia’s mother, on the other hand, was human and suffered no such trial in her father’s absence except to be irritable and unable to…ah, be intimate with another man, but she was otherwise healthy.”

Her recent flu-like trauma had been because she was mated but not yet a witch? Again, Marrok didn’t look surprised. So she needed Marrok to support her somehow. Had he been serious when he said she needed frequent sex? What the hell else hadn’t he totally explained?

Richard glanced at Marrok, then took Olivia’s hand in his. “Mathias is back. Your mate looks strong, but he is still only human.”

“Sort of. He’s immortal,” she clarified. “He was cursed by Morganna—”

“You are the one? You’re Marrok of Cadbury?”

Richard knew his name? Did he know anything else about Marrok’s troubles?

“Aye,” Marrok answered warily.

Olivia regained her father’s attention with her next question. “What do you know of his curse? What is the symbol…ah, in the painting you posed for during the Regency?”

Her father cut a questioning gaze to Marrok, as if seeing him in a whole new light. “You saw the painting?”

Olivia nodded. Her father knew something; she could tell.

“The symbol is only meaningful if you’ve seen Morganna’s Book of Doomsday. You have seen it, have you not?”

A picture of Marrok holding it, showing it to her, popped into her mind. She opened her mouth to whisper of it to her father alone, but Bram touched her cheek and closed his eyes. When he opened them, triumph glinted in those blue depths.

Marrok grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. “She knows nothing.”

“Of course not.” But Bram’s smile gloated.

With a shove, Marrok put her behind him and advanced on Bram with aggressive steps. “Keep your bloody hands off her.”

Richard cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter. Bram’s abilities in this area may require touch, but anyone with a true telepathic ability now knows that you have the Book of Doomsday. I suspected it anyway. Although legend says that the man who paid to have the book stolen vanished from this earth for his sins, I see that is untrue.”

Marrok shot him a stone-cold glare but said nothing.

“Your secret is safe with me, but others out there…I can sense at least a dozen with the ability to hear thoughts who just received Olivia’s information loud and clear.”