‘Be precise, Winters.’ The candlelight emphasized the harsh lines of his face and body; a man of will and determination but little softness. ‘Ask your real question. You will find it easier than your usual habit of avoiding awkward topics.’

‘Why did you tell Alberich I was his daughter?’ She’d meant to keep calm, but anger and disbelief made her voice shake. ‘I know it confused him and that’s how I escaped his control – but why would you say something like that?’

‘Because all the evidence suggests that you are, Winters.’ He sat down wearily in one of the chairs, resting an elbow on the table. ‘You are the adopted child of two Librarians, and your parents have always been extremely reluctant to discuss this with you – they didn’t even tell you that you were adopted until the information came out through other channels. Alberich had a child who was lost to him, whom the mother bore inside the Library. And you managed to break Alberich’s warding circle using your own blood. You thought that you did it by exploiting a metaphorical loophole, relying on the metaphorical “family” of Librarians. But he himself said that should have been impossible. That only leaves a genuine blood connection with Alberich . . . which you could only have acquired through your parents – or parent.’

‘How did you know that? About the warding circle?’

‘Catherine told me.’

‘Alberich could have been wrong about the warding circle,’ she argued. ‘Just because he managed to create something doesn’t mean I couldn’t subvert it.’

‘To be frank, Winters, one of the most convincing pieces of evidence was seeing you both together when Alberich took the form of his original human body.’

‘You mean I look like him?’ The idea was not only ridiculous, it was repulsive.

‘There is a . . . family resemblance.’

‘This is all complete supposition.’ Irene wanted to grab Vale by the shoulders and shake him. Her hands curled into fists, and she felt the scar tissue which laced her palms. A reminder of the first time she’d encountered Alberich. ‘Vale, you pride yourself on your logical deductions, but what you’ve given me is no more than a hypothesis. Two negatives don’t make a positive. Just because I may be an orphan and he’s missing a child doesn’t make us related. It was just a lie, a very good lie and one that staggered him enough for me to break his link—’

‘But you may wish to ask yourself why he believed it.’

Irene remembered those moments when Alberich’s thoughts were inside her mind, the way that they’d invaded her like the spores of fungus, like decay . . . and what his conclusion had been. Slowly, quietly, the foundations of her world began to fall away. She wanted to say that it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t right, and that it couldn’t have happened that way. But in front of her lay the clear and obvious possibility that it could be true.

That it was true.

Vale must have recognized her moment of acceptance. His shoulders sagged and she saw that he was as exhausted as she was. ‘Sometimes Fate plays unkind tricks on us, Winters. Morally you are everything that he isn’t – and yet, there is a resemblance.’

‘Then why did nobody ever see it before?’

‘Probably because very few have seen Alberich’s original face.’ Vale considered this, then added, ‘And lived to describe him afterwards. Even fewer have seen him with you. Perhaps some of the older Librarians . . .’

‘They’d know. They must know. Even if my parents don’t know where I came from, the Librarians who organized the adoption must have known . . .’ She turned away and began to pace the chamber. She was remembering every time a senior Librarian had looked at her strangely, every time she’d been reprimanded for doing something wrong . . . everything seemed to signal that the whole Library had known except for her. ‘I don’t care what my superiors want any more, what they think would be best for me. I’m going to demand the truth – whatever it costs. Even if I have to leave the Library. I have to know.’

She took a deep breath and made herself stop pacing. Then she turned and saw Kai in the doorway, and her self-control went out of the window. She couldn’t meet his eyes. For the first time she actually understood the impulse that made fictional protagonists scream they were unclean, damned for life, just because of some little problem like being bitten by a vampire or blackmailed for a past love affair. She didn’t want him to know this about her. She didn’t want him to have any reason to connect her with Alberich.

And yet, she also wanted his comfort, his understanding. She felt her lip wobble and suddenly wanted to sit down, to curl in a ball and hide. She could talk to Vale about this rationally, or at least relatively rationally. But with Kai it was . . . different. He’d given her the gift of his trust. She didn’t want to lose it. To lose him.

‘It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not,’ Kai said softly. He crossed the room and took her hands in his. ‘Even if it is, you’re not your father.’

‘You heard?’ she faltered.

‘I heard enough.’ He wouldn’t let go of her hands, but he did raise them so that he could inspect her wrist. ‘That needs bandaging again. Sit down and I’ll see what I can do.’

Vale rose and placed his hand on Irene’s shoulder for a moment. ‘I’ll see to the others, Winters,’ he said. ‘You stay here until you’ve got your breath back.’ He left the two of them together.

‘But Kai, I need to report this . . . I must go back and help Catherine!’ Irene’s mind was spinning after Vale’s revelations, and she needed the structure of her default position – taking charge, doing something.

‘You’re in shock.’ Kai backed her towards one of the chairs and gave her a gentle push. The chair caught her behind the knees and she sat down involuntarily. He knelt in front of her and began unwinding the crude bandage round her wrist, inspecting the wound. ‘As someone who loves you, it’s my duty to make sure you don’t do anything now that you’ll regret later.’

Irene opened her mouth, then shut it again. They’d avoided the word love. It had been enough for them to know that they’d go into danger, risk their lives for each other . . . do whatever was necessary for each other’s life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. They both knew their superiors could order them apart, and that they’d be expected to obey. Irene might be assigned elsewhere. Kai might be also be posted to a different world, or ordered into a mating contract by his father. And even if none of that happened – she was human, and he was a dragon. He would outlive her by centuries.

The fact that they were together, that they’d somehow managed to reach this point where they could share a bed, a house and each other’s trust, was more than Irene had hoped or dreamed. She didn’t need to add the word love to it as well. Wasn’t that too dangerous? Wasn’t it tempting fate?

She wanted to cry. She bit her lip instead and stayed silent, looking down at Kai’s hands on hers as he rewrapped her wound with another strip torn from his shirt. Her wrist ached. Her whole body ached. And her mind ached – both from Alberich’s attempted possession and from what she’d just discovered. Here in the silence of the Library, at home, she thought she’d be able to find peace. But instead her mind ran in circles and she couldn’t find a way out.