Page 74 of Semper

“You’ve met before,” Alexander’s father said, his voice low and certain.

How he clocked that immediately was beyond me, but I guessed it came from knowing his wife better than anyone else, almost like how his son knew me.

He didn’t even need to look at her to confirm it. Alexander’s grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly as if he’d caught on too. “The trade show,” he said, his voice smooth and casual, but the weight of his words carried a sharpness I wasn’t prepared for.

“Trade show?” Esther’s voice broke in, her tone laced with curiosity. She looked between her brother and me, clearly trying to piece it together.

“Bacchus Trade,” Bishop supplied from behind her, his grin gone, replaced with a more serious expression.

Esther blinked, then turned her attention to her mother. “Mom? Did you say something to her?”

That was the question they all wanted answered. The room grew quieter, their attention zeroing in on me and Alexander’s mother. I could feel the weight of their stares, the tensionthickening. My heart pounded in my chest, and I knew I had to say something.

The truth would unravel more than I was ready for. As I stared at the woman, at the way she was watching me with that same intensity, I realized I would take what she had done to my grave. But damn if I weren’t a terrible liar, and in this room, filled with these people, they’d see through me in an instant. I had to think quickly, to offer them a version of the truth, something that would make sense without giving everything away. I forced a small smile, one I hoped wasn’t too shaky, and shrugged.

“That’s what I don’t get,” I said, my voice carefully measured. “She didn’t say anything. She just... did this.” I gestured vaguely to the woman, who had yet to speak a word since we’d entered the room.

Alexander’s father let out a small, almost resigned sigh, shocking me by going along with what I was sure he knew was bullshit. “She gets like that sometimes,” he said, his voice heavy, but there was a faint hint of amusement in it as if he was playing along with the charade.

I didn’t say another word. I didn’t trust myself to. Instead, I kept my focus on the floor, doing my best not to stare at the woman’s forehead—at the place where she had so obviously concealed the truth. Because right there, hidden beneath whatever makeup or illusion she had used, was the Alistair pentagram.

The very same one that had been burned onto my back. Someone had carved it so deeply into her skin, it had healed as prominent scar. My stomach churned as I forced myself to stay composed, to keep my expression neutral. It was impossible to forget the weight of that symbol. Seeing it on her, I realized just how deep the connection went. Alexander’s father stepped forward, cutting through the tension, his hand resting on hiswife’s shoulder as if that simple gesture could smooth over the unease in the room.

“Let’s not make a thing of it,” he said softly, though his eyes betrayed a knowing glint. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had everyone here and tonight is special. Let’s not spoil the evening.”

The men exchanged glances, amusement dancing in their eyes as they agreed to Beatrice’s suggestion. Bishop grinned, always quick to lighten the mood. “Well, if you insist,” he said with mock defeat, raising his glass one last time. “We’ll leave you ladies to your... necessarychat.”

Alexander leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my cheek before straightening up, his gaze lingering on mine for just a moment longer. “Behave,” he murmured with a teasing smile, his touch warm and grounding, and then he pulled away, heading for the door.

His father wasn’t far behind, turning to press a kiss to his wife’s temple before following Alexander and the others.

As he brushed past me, he gave me a small, conspiratorial smile—just a flicker of knowing in his eyes. The gesture sent a shiver down my spine, silently confirming that he’d seen right through the lie I had spun to cover for his wife. He knew, and for some reason, he was letting it slide.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the atmosphere shifted. The room felt smaller, and more intimate, the weight of the conversation to come hanging in the air. Beatrice and Esther immediately turned their attention to me, guiding me toward the sofa where Alexander’s mother had returned to sitting.

“Come,” Beatrice urged with a bright smile, her energy still commanding, though softer now, as if she wanted to put me at ease. “Sit. We won’t bite.”

I followed their lead, feeling the weight of their gazes on me as I settled into the plush, velvet cushions.

Esther busied herself with a tray of lemonade and ice water, bringing it to the table before sitting down beside me. The entire time, I could feel Alexander’s mother watching me, her eyes never straying far.

There was a long silence, the kind that felt heavy with unsaid words, until finally, Alexander’s mother spoke, her voice softer than I expected. “You look so much like her,” she said, her eyes never leaving my face. “But him too.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure who she was referring to—her?Him?

But as her gaze continued to study me, I realized she meant my parents. She saw something in me that reminded her of them. The intensity of her stare, the way she was dissecting my features as if looking for traces of people she once knew, left me unnerved.

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Who do you mean?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re truly Alistair. It’s all in the blood.”

Beatrice cut in with a soft smile, her voice steady and warm. "I'll tell her, Adelita."

Adelita.

The name echoed in my mind, a strange resonance flickering through me. It was so close to mine, like a reflection of something I hadn’t yet grasped. I glanced toward Alexander’s mother—Adelita—trying to process this new connection, but she only gave a small nod, confirming the name I’d just learned.

Beatrice handed me a glass of water, and I accepted it gratefully, trying to still the sudden unease rolling in my stomach. Esther took the seat beside me, offering her quiet presence, but her eyes held the same knowing look as the others. Beatrice's smile widened, and she began, her voice taking on a storytelling tone as though she’d told this tale a hundred times before.