"Well," Trafalgar said, voice lower now, "there is something important too. Mayla knows about part of this, but now that there are two more of you, I suppose I have to say it as well."
Mayla's face tightened a little, from knowing where his words were about to go. Aubrelle's unfocused red gaze rested in his direction, the scar around her eyes faintly visible beneath the apartment's warm light, while Pipin shifted closer to her hand as if the bird had sensed the weight gathering in the room. Cynthia did not move at all. She had already heard enough tonight to understand that when Trafalgar lowered his voice like that, the next thing was unlikely to be easy.
Trafalgar looked at Cynthia first, then Aubrelle.
"My bloodline is not only Morgain," he said. "Part of it comes from the Primordials."
Cynthia's breath hitched.
Aubrelle did not speak, but Pipin's red eyes fixed on Trafalgar with such intensity that it almost felt like the bird had forgotten how to be a bird.
