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Cove is the only vision my eyes are able to behold. It is the only one I need.

She’s a prism of light, a vision glowing through the murk, defiant against the darkness. A door has swooped open, pouring color into a black hall. That is how it feels to look at her. This human is a siren, a temptress, and every crumb of goodness inside me.

She’s barefooted and wearing the clothes I gave her on the night of Middle Moon. The porcelain white swimming suit clings to her like film, and the matching skirt of mer scales etched in silver wraps around her waist. The panels shimmer, and her thighs peek from the high slit.

My pupils brim as I soak up her presence. But she isn’t gazing back. Her irises reflect the same brilliant shade as they cling to an image a dozen paces away.

Her father.

My pulse stutters at the sight of her slackened face. I have learned many of Cove’s expressions—every contortion and lift of her features. I can interpret them, from vexed to aroused, from sad to peaceful. Several emotions combust across her features now. One of them tugs the edges of her mouth downward, another douses her complexion in pink, and the last glistens in her eyes.

Shock. Hope. Elation.

A second later, a smoky voice enters the scene. “Papa.”

Unlike Cove’s arrival, it is not a question but a statement. I cannot see Puck’s woman, but I do catch a sliver of green tresses brushing my lady’s arm. Juniper is standing immobile beside Cove.

I witness time suspend itself, not unlike diving into the depths and rising to the surface. The pause is thick, heavy. Neither party dares to move, as though doing so might break the spell.

At length, a stunted noise tears from Thorne’s throat. “Juniper,” he utters, as if the name is made of earth. And the next name is made of water, each necessary for his survival. “Cove.”

My lady’s hand shoots to her mouth. On a whimper, she breaks from her trance, races across the enclave, and flings herself into the man’s arms.

I follow the trajectory. My gaze hooks onto the brief traces of this man who raised her, a flash of dark-skinned arms, slender yet robust and capable of holding Cove as she sags against him.

Then that glimpse melts out of view, leaving only Cove visible. She’s clutching this man, wet rivulets streaking down her profile as she sobs openly.

My muscles tighten, alarmed until I realize…she’s crying out of joy. She has done this with me as well.

Pleasure and pain clash like crossed blades spearing my chest. Her solace is all that matters. But she wouldn’t be weeping if it were not for me.

I separated them.

My brothers and I did that. We tore this family apart.

The pair splits and glances toward an approaching figure. The diminutive shift of blackness tells me who it is. Thorne and Cove open a space for Juniper, who strays to them, her footfalls wooden. She’s keeping herself upright, steady, but I hear the quiver of a fisted hand.

Thorne’s intonation is riddled with love, his hand audibly reaching out to caress Juniper’s cheek. “My tree of knowledge.”

A dry sob racks the female’s shoulders. I sense it, hear it, envision it. Juniper’s features collapse like a wave hitting the shore, and she snatches her father and Cove, gathering them to her.

They clasp each other, bonding themselves into one. Cove’s head bows with theirs as they form an unbreachable cocoon. The sisters tuck themselves into Thorne’s neck as the family cries.

“My girls,” he chokes. “My beautiful girls.”

Cove’s nails dig into his shoulder. Her body lurches with every tear.

My retinas do something strange. They sting, as though doused with salt.

I avert my gaze and clamp my teeth together, fighting to swallow. I sense my brothers doing the same, glancing away in remorse and eager to give them privacy.

I love that Cove has this. I hate that I took it from her.

One final voice blows into the enclave. “Oh, my fucking Fables!”

Feet slap the floor as Lark bolts across the enclave like a windstorm. Except she isn’t running toward her father, but her mate.

“Cerulean!” tolls from her mouth as she launches past me and Puck.