“Many of the pieces were becoming badly damaged by time and dust and the changes in temperature,” Gian told her. “In line with our mandate to preserve the art of our people, the Gallery was created to house the art in an environment best suited to preservation.”

Elena could see the logic in that. “So you don’t have any outside?” It seemed to her that stone sculptures wouldn’t molder away, but what did she know? She’d have to ask Aodhan his opinion of Gian’s explanation.

“The odd piece that is at least somewhat resistant to time damage.” He nodded at a large mosaic on a hanging wall that separated that part of the Atrium into two semi-independent sections. “But once we had the Gallery, it seemed wasteful to leave other pieces out in the ordinary atmosphere, where they would begin to degrade.” A deep smile. “I or any of my brethren would be happy to show you the way to the Gallery.”

“Thank you,” Elena said. “Can I also ask you about your library?”

His eyes never moved off her—and she realized they never had. Her skin pebbled. Okay, that was more than a little creepy, but he hadn’t crossed any lines and she had to remember that he’d been isolated out here with a bunch of other Luminata for hundreds of years. Good way to get rusty on social skills.

“We call it the Repository of Knowledge,” he said, still watching her with unnerving focus. “And of course. You may ask me anything.”

“I was told you collect information.” At his nod, she said, “Do you keep any records on human-vampire children?”

A flicker in his eyes, gone so quickly she might’ve imagined it.

Only she hadn’t.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, his eyes shifting to his wineglass as he took a sip. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m pretty sure one of my friends was sired by a vamp who then ran off. You know, the usual deadbeat father story only he was a vampire.” She lied because instinct told her to lie. “I promised her I’d look into it so she’d have closure about her history.”

“A worthy goal.” Gian’s eyes lifted to hers again, the cool white of his skin holding no betraying flush of color. “I hope you can help her.”

“Me, too. I have a question about myself, too,” she said, adding a half laugh to it, as if she wasn’t too serious about her inquiry. “My hair and skin, it’s really unusual. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of anyone else who looks like me?”

No flicker. Nothing but a steady gaze as Gian laughed. “You are unique, Consort. I have never seen a woman such as you.”

Damn it. That had sounded genuine.

“Ah well,” she said. “I’ll see if I have better luck in your Repository of Knowledge.”

“You will be most welcomed by the Luminata in charge.”

Again, nothing but warmth, but as they separated a minute or two later, Elena thought again of that flicker and wondered. Why had her instincts reacted with a plausible lie? Why didn’t she want Gian to know she was aware she might have a vampire ancestor?

She was still chewing on those questions fifteen minutes later when she heard two Luminata say something to each other that made her ears prick. She only overheard the comment because she’d been staring at the mosaic Gian had pointed out—deep in thought, she’d been standing motionless for at least five minutes when she realized there were people on the other side of the hanging wall.

Like the other hanging walls on either side of the large central space of the Atrium, it wasn’t closed off on either end. Rather it functioned as a partition that allowed people to gather in different sections of the Atrium, so that they could form small, intimate groupings while remaining part of the bigger whole.

Given her position and motionlessness, and the layout of the room, it seemed the two men on the other side didn’t realize she was there. Because Elena definitely wasn’t meant to hear this conversation.

“The resemblance is extraordinary, is it not?” A male voice, not particularly distinctive.

“‘Eerie’ is the word I’d use.” Another male, this one with a deeper tone to his voice. “It feels like a ghost is haunting Lumia.”

Elena heard that part of their conversation with a peripheral corner of her mind, didn’t really pay attention to it.

Then the first speaker said, “The shape of her face and that near-white hair against skin of dark gold . . . her skin was darker, but other than that, they could be mirror images of each other.”

Elena’s entire attention snapped to the conversation. Because there was only one person in the room who had hair of near-white.

“Not quite,” the second speaker replied. “The eyes are not the same. Hers weren’t silver. I always thought they gave her a feline appearance.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

A pause, while Elena’s heart thundered.

“Gian has not said anything.”

“Neither will he and you are not to mention it.” The words were hard, an order. “Or have you forgotten what he was like after her betrayal?”

“A madman . . . or so close to it as not to matter.” A whisper of wings, as if the Luminata was settling his feathers. “I will spread the word that it is a matter not to be discussed.”

There was more rustling, wings and robes shifting. Elena made a quick decision and turned to go in the opposite direction to the movements on the other side. By the time the two Luminata emerged from behind the partition, she was standing next to Raphael, far enough away that there was no way they could suspect her of having overheard their conversation.