Page 65 of The Immortal’s Mark

“Jennifer Bane is our strongest clairvoyant,” the warlock says, voice careful as he answers a question I have missed. “She sensed something amiss with the girl. Their connection allowed her to trace the location.”

“Connection?” Des drawls. A shiver races down my spine as the deep cadence tickles my mind. “You mean the fact that she is her mother?”

Every single cloaked figure in front of me stiffens, including the woman who abandoned me. She and Master Ben are the only ones with their hoods down, and the deep lines creasing her eyes hint at her distress.

“Charmian,” Thane’s voice cuts into the air. “How long have you known?”

My vision flicks down, noting Thane’s hands are curled into fists.

The Immortal lifts her head high, not at all frightened by the ire wafting off Thane. “Known, what?”

He snarls. “That the infamous Jennifer Nightsbane is the mother of the young woman under the Council’s protection?”

Infamous?

Charmian doesn’t blink. “One day.”

Des clears his throat. “And yet, you did not retrieve her, despite knowing we have been searching for her.”

Silence falls, loaded with implications I do not understand.

Nor am I sure I want to.

Charmian tilts her head to the side, holding my stare—Des’s stare with a pointed one of her own.

“As Master Ben has shared, Jennifer only recently returned to the Nightsbane Clan. I am not in regular communication with my offspring. I was unaware of the change in her clan status.”

The disbelief that spikes through Des might as well be mine.

“And what status is that?” Des shifts his gaze, lingering on my mother, whose chin dips in measured deference. “Active?”

“She has repented her abandonment and resumed her role on our council,” Master Ben answers.

Repented?

Does the clan punish those who leave?

“And then she came here?” Lome grumbles. “But only after the girl was in the worst pain imaginable.”

The normally affable Immortal crosses his arms and glares at my mother with unveiled loathing.

“What sort of mother abandons their child to endure their awakening on their own?” he asks. “Especially when I suspect you heard rumors of the young woman in our care.”

“A bad one,” my mother finally says. She sounds like me, only more mature.

She takes a single step forward, breaking the V-formation of cloaked figures.

She raises her head and meets Des’s stare. My stomach tightens.

“I’ve heard rumors about your alleged connection to my daughter,” she says, and the word daughter is a physical blow, “but I did not hear anything about her powers emerging. Not a whisper.”

Des doesn’t blink.

My mother is smaller than I remember. Petite. Our hair is the same color, as are our eyes. All of my features, aside from my height, come from the woman whom I haven’t seen since I was a child.

I study her expression.

The wide set of her eyes.