“If there’s any place on Midgard that might have clues, it’s there. The heart of all things Starborn. And that’s where the Autumn King said he read about the portal to nowhere in the first place.”
“I’ll take whatever edge we can get, but again: King Morven isn’t exactly friendly.”
Bryce glanced down at her chest, the star-shaped scar barely peeking above the dip of her T-shirt. “He’ll welcome us.”
“Why are you so sure?”
She reached a hand into the interior pocket of her black athletic jacket. With a flourish, she pulled out her father’s notebook. “Because I’ve got the Autumn King’s dirty little secrets.”
43
Lidia Cervos stared at her sons. Their mer foster parents were seated on either side of them, watching her with predatory focus. Davit and Renki. She’d never learned their names until now. But judging by the way they sat poised to strike, her boys had been well cared for. Loved.
Director Kagani sat across her desk from them, hands interlaced before her. The silence was palpable. Lidia had no idea how to break it.
Had no idea who she was, sitting here in one of the Depth Charger’s dark blue tactical bodysuits. A far comfier uniform than her old one, designed for an aquatic lifestyle. No sign of her silver torque or imperial medals or any of the trappings of that fake life she’d created.
She’d woken again a few hours after collapsing, in a different hospital bed, free of tubes and ports. She hoped the medwitch who’d helped her out of bed assumed her shaking legs were from lingering weakness.
Even if the feeling continued now, as she sat before her sons.
Brann, golden-haired and blue-eyed, wearing a forest-green T-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees, held her stare. Didn’t balk from it as Actaeon, dark-haired and golden-eyed, did. But it was to Actaeon, in his black T-shirt and matching jeans, that she spoke, gentling her voice as much as she could. “There is … a great deal to tell you. Both of you.”
Actaeon glanced to the foster father on his left. Davit. The brown-skinned male in a dark blue officer’s uniform nodded encouragingly. Lidia’s chest tightened. This had been her choice. One she’d had no option but to accept, yet …
She looked to Brann, whose eyes glowed with inner fire. Fearless—reckless. A natural leader. She’d seen that look on his face before, even as a baby.
Brann said, “So, what—we’re supposed to live with you now?”
Actaeon whipped his head to his parents in alarm. Lidia suppressed the sting at that expression, but answered, “No.” It was all she could manage to say.
Renki, pale-skinned and dark-haired, assured Actaeon, “This doesn’t change anything. You guys are staying with us. And besides that, your mom has to take care of some stuff.” He was clad in the navy-blue coveralls of a ship medic—he must have run right over from work.
Brann’s brows lifted, as if he’d ask what kind of stuff, but Actaeon said quietly, “She’s not our mom.”
The words landed in her gut like a physical blow.
Davit said a shade sharply, “Yes, she is, Ace.”
An oily sort of jealousy wended its way through her at the nickname. Her dark-haired son lifted his head, and—
Pure power glimmered in his eyes. She’d seen that look on his face before, too—long, long ago. The thoughtful, quiet stone to Brann’s wildfire.
Lidia couldn’t help her smile, despite the hurtful words. She said to Actaeon, to Brann, “You’re exactly as you were as infants.”
Brann smiled back at her. Actaeon didn’t.
Director Kagani interrupted, “We’re not going to put labels on anything or anyone right now. Lidia does indeed have … work that will keep her from settling down yet, and even once she does, we will all have another discussion about what is best for you two. And your fathers.”
Lidia met Renki’s gaze. The dominance and protectiveness in it. She still saw the glimmer of pleading beneath it. Please don’t take my sons away from me.
It was the same sentiment she’d once conveyed to the Ocean Queen. A plea that had fallen on deaf ears.
They were her boys, her babies for whom she had changed the course of her life, but they had been raised by these males. Actaeon and Brann were their sons. Not by blood, but through love and care. They had protected them, raised them well.
She could have asked for nothing more—that the boys possessed such an attachment to their parents went beyond any hope she’d harbored.
So Lidia said, even as something in her soul crumbled, “I have no intention of taking you away from your parents.” Her heart thundered, and she knew they could all hear it. But she raised her chin anyway. “I don’t know when my work will be over, if ever. But if it is, if I am allowed to return here … I would like to see you again.” She looked to the twins’ parents. “All of you.”