“True. And my taxes were reduced after the takeover.”

“Is that why you had more children?” Valek couldn’t resist asking.

“No. We were devastated and lonely. Our house had been full of four energetic and boisterous boys and then...all gone. So quiet. Your mother didn’t think she’d conceive, but Zeb was born four years after the takeover, then the twins three years later.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “When their magic started causing problems, I’d thought you’d show up and...”

“Here I am.”

“Later than expected, and not before we thought we lost them, too.”

Dark shadows of grief haunted his expression. More than any one person should be asked to bear. But that was the problem with grief. No one ever asked for it. It arrived with its bags already packed for an extended stay. It settled into your best guest room and demanded to be waited on all day long, and when it finally shuffled out the door, it left behind permanent scratches on your furniture.

Valek wished to ease his father’s pain. “They’ll be...safer in Sitia. I’ll make sure they learn how to protect themselves.”

“Thank you. Come inside and get something to eat.”

“No thanks. I belong here with the dead.” Valek pointed to the unmarked gravestone. “Mother would agree.”

“That’s not yours. It’s for that damn dog Mooch. The twins were so upset when he died. Made me dig a grave and buy a stone. Never did get around to carving his name in it. And do you know what’s really galling?”

Amused, Valek shook his head.

“Out of the dozen dogs we’ve had, that damn dog hated me. Bit me three times, and I couldn’t do nothing about it or they’d get upset.”

“Which explains why it remains unmarked.”

He laughed a deep chuckle. “You always were a quick study of people. I’m sure it helps with your job.”

“It does.”

His father scuffed his boots in the dirt. “I’ve thought about you every day, too, wondering if you’d ever come home.” A pause. “If you hadn’t run into the twins, would you have returned?”

“You made it quite clear—”

“And you’ve never said something in anger that you regretted later? Never uttered the wrong thing when you were out of your mind with grief?”

Cracks appeared in Valek’s calm demeanor. Funny how being threatened by a butcher knife hadn’t affected him at all, yet his father’s words had the same effect as a blow to his head, followed by a punch to his solar plexus, leaving him dazed and unable to suck in a proper breath.

“Assassins learn to shut off their emotions,” Valek finally said.

“That’s bullshit. If that was the case, then you wouldn’t let the twins stay overnight, you wouldn’t be here by your brothers’ graves, you wouldn’t have a heart mate. Should I go on?”

“No. You’ve made your point.”

“Then what’s the answer to my question? Would you have returned?”

He hadn’t planned to, but with marrying Yelena, and the baby... “I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. Now come on inside.”

“I... Mother would get upset. I’d ruin her time with the twins.”

“Put that intuitive sense to work, boy. How would you feel in her place? It’s a lot to take in, and she’s not going to see them again—”

“Why not? You can visit them during the hot season when the Keep’s on break.”

His father jerked straight. “But they’ll be in Sitia. We can’t...”

“You can if I help you. In fact, Sitia has tanneries, too. If you want to live there, I can arrange that, as well.”

“You can?”

“I can.” Even if he no longer worked for the Commander.

He gazed at Valek for a few heartbeats. “I’ll think about it.”

“When you decide, just tell Patxi. He’ll get word to me.”

Valek’s father returned to the house. Movement seemed the best cure for his...confusion. Valek retrieved his pack from Onyx’s saddle and built a small fire near his brothers’ graves. It might be morbid, but to him it was comforting. The horses moved closer to the heat.

He boiled water and sorted through the travel rations, ensuring there would be enough to last. The crunch of footsteps sounded to his left. Valek jumped to his feet, knife in hand.

“Easy,” Zethan said. “Just bringing you supper.”

Valek slid the weapon back into its sheath as the young man stepped into the ring of firelight. Zethan handed him a fork and a plate with two slices of roast beef and a pile of mashed potatoes, all covered with a dark brown gravy. The smell alone was intoxicating.

“Did you draw the short straw?”

Zethan laughed. “No, I volunteered.”

“Thanks.” Valek sat next to the fire.

“I didn’t bring you a knife to cut the meat, ’cause I figured you already have about ten of your own.”

“At least.” Valek smiled.

Zethan took that as an invitation to sit down. “Mother’s coming around to the idea of us leaving. Although Zohav doesn’t believe you have the authority to let them come visit us.”

Zohav’s comment wasn’t a surprise. “Consider it one of the perks of my job.”

The teen pulled a half-burned twig from the fire. He sketched designs into the dirt with it. “What’s it like at the Magician’s Keep?”