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.”
Renki nodded, gratitude in his eyes. Davit put a hand on Actaeon’s shoulder.
Brann said, “You mean the work you do … as the Hind?”
Lidia glanced to Director Kagani in alarm. She had made them promise not to tell the boys who and what she was—
“We have TV down here,” Brann said, reading her surprise and dismay. “We recognized you today. Had no idea you were our birth mom until now, but we know what you do. Who you work for.”
“I work for the Ocean Queen,” Lidia said. “For Ophion.”
“You serve the Asteri,” Actaeon cut in coldly. “You kill rebels for them.”
“Ace,” Davit warned again.
But Actaeon didn’t back down. He looked to his twin and demanded, “You’re cool with this? With her? You know what she does to people?”
Fire sparked in Brann’s gaze once more. “Yeah, asshole, I do.”
“Language,” Renki warned.
Actaeon ignored him and pressed Brann, “Her boyfriend’s the Hammer.”
“Pollux is not my boyfriend,” Lidia cut in, back stiffening.
“Your fuck buddy, then,” Actaeon snapped.
“Actaeon,” Renki snarled.
Director Kagani said quellingly, “That is enough, Actaeon.” The director sighed, facing Lidia. “And perhaps that is enough for all of us for one day.”
Actaeon let out a humorless laugh. “I’m just getting started.” He pointed to his brother. “You want to play loyal dog, go ahead. You’ll fit right in with her dreadwolves.”
“You’re a dick, you know that?” Brann seethed.
“Boys,” Davit said. “That is enough.” The male winced at Lidia. “I’m really sorry about this. We raised them to behave better.”
Lidia nodded, throat closing up. But she said to Actaeon, “I understand. I really do.”
She stood, the weight of their stares threatening to send her to her knees. But she said to Davit and Renki, “Thank you for taking care of them. For loving them.”
Her eyes stung, and something massive began to implode in her chest, so Lidia said nothing else before walking out of the director’s office, shutting the door behind her. She nodded her farewell to the administrative assistant sitting beyond the door, then she was out in the hall, gasping down air, fighting that implosion—
“Lidia,” said a male voice behind her, and she turned to find Renki walking after her.
The male’s face was pained. “I’m so sorry about how that went down. Davit and I have discussed this possibility for years, and we never planned it to be like that.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t want you to think we, like … tried to turn the boys against you.”
She shook her head. “The thought never crossed my mind.”
Renki shifted on his feet, black work boots squeaking softly on the tiled floor. “We didn’t know who you were, either. Until today. We knew their mom was deep undercover for Ophion, but we didn’t know how undercover.”
“Only Director Kagani and the Ocean Queen knew.”
“I’d love to hear the full story, if you’re allowed to tell it. Davit would, too.”
She swallowed hard. “Perhaps another day.”
“Yeah—definitely get some rest.” He grimaced, surveying her. “I’m, ah, a medic here. I was on the team that brought you in, actually. I’m glad to see you’re back on your feet.”
She nodded, unsure what to say.
Renki went on, “Davit captains one of the submersible-pods that runs recon, so he’s occasionally away for days or weeks at a time—sometimes it’s just me and the boys.” He added, “Well, me, and both sets of our parents, who help out a lot. They adore the boys.”
Grandparents. Something the boys wouldn’t have had otherwise.
“Do you have siblings?” she asked the male.
Renki nodded. “I have two brothers, and Davit has a sister. So there are lots of cousins running around. The boys grew up in a veritable pack of them.”
She smiled slightly. “Was it hard for them to live here without being mer?”
“At times,” Renki said. “When they were toddlers, they didn’t get why they couldn’t just jump into the water with the other kids. There were lots of tantrums. Especially from Brann.” A soft, loving laugh. “But Actaeon’s a bit of a genius. He devised helmets and fins for them to use so they can keep up with the others. Even in the depths.”
Pride bloomed in her chest. “Is that why you call him Ace?”
Renki grinned. “Yeah. He’s been taking things apart and putting them back together into something smarter and cooler since he was a baby.”
“I remember that,” she said softly. “He’d always pull apart every toy I gave him …” She cut herself off.
But Renki’s smile remained. “Still does. It’s the one downside to living on this ship. Director Kagani gets the best teachers she can, but we’re limited in what kind of higher ed we can offer him.”
“And Brann?”
Renki let out a laugh. “Brann is … Well, he’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. A natural athlete—fearless. Quick to anger, and quick to laugh. He does okay in school, but right now, he’s more interested in hanging out with his buddies. He’s the stereotypical jock. We’re both content to let him be who he is.”
“They’re like the sun and moon, then,” she said quietly.
Renki’s smile softened. “Yeah. Exactly.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “This has my contact information, in case you need anything. If you want to chat with me, or Davit, or have any questions …”
Lidia took his card, nodding her gratitude, unable to find words.
Renki said, “Ace might have said some … not-nice stuff in there, but don’t for one moment think that he hasn’t been wondering about you all this time. The two of them have some foggy memories of you, I think. Director Kagani says they were too young at the time, but I swear they do. They told me once that you had hair like Brann’s and eyes like Ace’s. Since they never learned who you were until today, I’m going to finally believe them.”
“You’re very kind for saying that.”
Renki held her stare, sorrow and something else in his gaze. “I’ll work on Ace for you. But for now, give him time.”
She bowed her head. “Thank you.”
She didn’t trust herself to say more before she turned away, walking down the hall.
Lidia had nearly reached the stairwell, nearly tamped down the tears threatening to rise within her, when hurrying feet scuffed behind her. She slowed her pace, and stopped before the stairwell door, not opening it.
Only when the messenger extended a folded piece of kelp to her did Lidia turn.
The messenger, a young mer male who regarded her with a mix of curiosity and wariness, announced, “From Her Depthless Majesty,” before stepping aside to wait for a response.
Lidia unfolded the broad, flat kelp leaf. She read what was within, then nodded to the messenger. “I’ll go right to her.”
She didn’t let herself look back at the hall, toward her sons behind the office door halfway down it, before walking into the stairwell. But as the door slammed behind her, it echoed through her entire being.
Five minutes later and ten floors down, Lidia found herself before the ruler of the seas. The Ocean Queen stood at a wall of windows overlooking the eternal dark of the deep ocean, her black hair floating around her as if she were indeed underwater.
It had been fifteen years since Lidia had last seen her. Last spoken to her.
As she had then, the Ocean Queen stood no taller than Lidia’s chest, but Lidia steeled her spine against the power that filled the room.
She’d spent decades enduring the Asteri’s presence. This female’s power, however mighty … she’d weather it, too. Maybe that was why the Ocean Queen had bothered with her in the first place, all those years ago: Lidia had been able to face her and not tremble.
“I heard you have been reunited with your young,” the Ocean Queen said without turning.
Lidia inclined her head anyway. “I thank Ogenas for such a gift.”
“I do not recall granting you leave to abandon your post.”
Lidia lifted her chin, keeping her breathing steady as the Ocean Queen slowly, slowly pivoted. Her eyes were black as the ocean outside.
The Ocean Queen went on, “I do not recall granting you leave to bring all these fugitives onto one of my city-ships.”
Lidia remained silent, well aware that she had not been given leave to speak, either.
The Ocean Queen’s eyes flickered. She was pleased by this small show of obedience, at least. “Our work relies upon our secrecy—it relies upon the Asteri considering us too vague a threat to bother investigating. We evade the Omega-boats, we offer sanctuary to the occasional Ophion agent. Nothing more. No attacks, no direct conflict. But you have now given the Asteri cause to start wondering what, exactly, swims in the deep. What I am doing down here.”
When Lidia didn’t reply, the Ocean Queen waved a hand. Permission to speak.
“I had no choice,” Lidia said, keeping her eyes on the tiled floor. “We could not risk losing such valuable assets to our cause. But I can assure you that before I left, Rigelus and the others still did not consider you and your people a priority.”
“Perhaps not,” the Ocean Queen said, growing a few inches taller, ripping away nearly all the air in the room. “But now their most wanted enemies are on this ship. It will be only a matter of days before his mystics find us.”
“Then it should be a relief that they shall depart for Avallen tomorrow.”
The insolent words were out before Lidia could rein them in. She’d overheard the news from a passing group of officers—who’d all given her a wide berth when they noticed who was walking down the hall toward them. But the Ocean Queen only smiled. A shark’s smile.
“And you,” the ruler said with menacing softness, “shall depart tomorrow, too.”
Every word eddied out of Lidia’s head. Despite her years of training, of self-restraint, all she could say was, “My sons—”
“You have seen them.” The ruler’s sharp teeth flashed. “Consider yourself Ogenas-blessed indeed for that. Now you will resume your duties.”
The unbearable, soul-shredding departure had nearly broken Lidia fifteen years ago. And now …
“You loathe me,” the Ocean Queen said, as if delighted.
Lidia shoved every bit of despair, every bit of defiance, down deep. Her feelings didn’t matter. Only Actaeon and Brann mattered.
So her tone was bland, empty, when she spoke. As hollow and soulless as it had been all these years with the Asteri, with Pollux. “Tell me what I must do.”
Ruhn paced his room, grinding his teeth until they ached. Bryce had gone to the home world of their people. And their father had held her hostage. Granted, she’d engineered it, but …
The true weight of it had only sunk in later, once they’d parted.
Maybe he should hit the gym. Work out some of this aggression roaring through his system, overriding any joy from seeing Bryce. To out-sweat the need to find his father and wipe him from the face of Midgard for what he’d tried to do to Bryce. For the fact that Ruhn hadn’t been there to stop it, to shield her from him.
He untied his boots, then slung off his long-sleeved shirt, aiming for the small locker at the opposite end of his room, where he’d been provided with clothes and sneakers. A ten-mile run on the treadmill followed by a fuck-ton of weights would help. Maybe he’d get lucky and someone would be in the gym to spot him.
Ruhn yanked out a white T-shirt, carrying it with him as he flung open the door, intending to pull it on as he walked to the gym—
He ran smack into Lidia.
Her scent hit him, addling his senses, and he took a step back, out of it. “Hey,” he said, then blurted, “You’re up.”
She lifted her chin, eyes a bit glassy. “Yes.”
Ruhn twisted his shirt in his hands. She was wearing one of the ship’s aquatic bodysuits that left nothing to the imagination. He might not have explored her body—on this plane, anyway—but their souls had definitely fucked, and he had no idea where the Hel that put them.
“I, um, was about to go to the gym,” he said, and held up the shirt. His palms turned sweaty. “How are you feeling?”
“Stronger.” It wasn’t an answer, not really. She nodded to a door directly across the hall from his. “I’ve been moved to that room.”
Ruhn stepped further into the corridor, shutting his door behind him. As he did, her smell wrapped around him, dizzying and heady and so fucking enticing that his mouth watered—and then he beheld the ice in her eyes.
He stepped back, brows lifting. “These are appropriate digs for Agent Daybright?”
Lidia looked at him without any humor, any sense that they’d shared their souls. Two passing officers skirted around them. He caught a few of their whispers as they headed for the elevator bay at the end of the hall. There she is. Holy shit, it’s her.
Lidia ignored them.
The elevator opened down the hall, and Ruhn couldn’t help but think of the last time he and Lidia had been in one. When she’d put a bullet through the Hawk’s head and killed those dreadwolves. Then, her eyes had been open and pleading. None of that remained.
He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Did you see your sons yet?”
“Yes.” She fit a key in her lock.
“How … ah … how’d it go?”
She didn’t face him. “I am a stranger to them.” Not one shred of emotion laced the words.
“How are the foster parents?”
The lock clicked. “A nice mer couple.”
What happened? Who was the father? How did you wind up here? He wanted to know so many things. How had she ever kept this hidden? Her family—
Fuck, her family. These boys were male heirs to the Enador line. Hypaxia was their aunt.
But Lidia said distantly, turning to face him at last, “Everything I did was for them, you know.”
His chest ached. “For your kids?”
She studied her hands, the imposing ruby ring on one of her fingers. “I haven’t seen them since they were eighteen months old. Not even a picture.”
But she’d known them on sight today. Had known what grade they’d be in, remembered where the school was on this ship, and run directly there.
He lingered at his doorway. For a heartbeat, he allowed himself to look at her face. The impossible perfection of it, the light of her golden eyes, the glint of her hair. The most beautiful female he’d ever seen, and yet it didn’t even fucking matter. None of that had ever mattered when it came to her.
He asked, “What happened?”
“What difference does it make?” she asked, wary and sharp. “I thought you didn’t wish to hear my sob story, as you put it.”
Well, he’d earned that. “Look,” he said tightly, “you can’t expect me to learn who you are, what you are, and be immediately cool with it, okay? I’m still processing all this shit.”
“What is there to process? I am who I am, and I’ve done what I’ve done. The fact that I have children doesn’t erase that.”
All right. She was pissed off. “It’s almost like you want me to resent you.”
“I wanted you to listen,” she snapped, “but you wouldn’t. Yet now that I fit some sort of acceptably sad female backstory, you’re willing to hear me out.”
“That’s bullshit.” Fuck, she and Bryce would get along well. The fact that both of them were on this ship … Part of him wanted to run and hide.
Lidia went on, “Would you have listened if I had no backstory other than realizing what was right and wanting to fight for it? Of doing whatever it took to make sure that good prevailed against tyranny? Or does my being a mother somehow make my choices more palatable to you?”
“Most dudes run when they find out the female they’re into has kids.”
Her eyes flickered with cold fire. “That’s male strength for you.”
“You seemed to like my strength plenty, sweetheart.”
She snorted, turning back toward her door. Dismissing him.
His temper coiled. “So what’s the sob story, Lidia?”
Slowly, she looked back, her face a mask of utter contempt, and said before she shut the door in his face, “You don’t deserve to hear it.”
