I didn't get much sleep after finding out what the blanket smelled like.
Each time I closed my eyes the child's face would appear. The bulk of him, the weight in my arms. How he stretched out with such a natural reach for me.
And that scent.
My bloodline.
I had thought about it over and over, and tried to convince myself that I was wrong. But I wasn’t. I was familiar with my own flesh and blood. Every healer did.
From a young age we were taught to recognize scent markers, which are associated with lineage, inherited traits, family lines. It was a part of recognising injuries, poisons, hidden bonds.
That scent was no coincidence. The kid had my blood. I hadn't worked out how. I knew what I smelled, though. Which meant that Lucian had something wicked much worse than I had initially t
