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My Elixir.

Hers. I’m hers.

I enjoy that expression and straighten for the man’s inspection.

Juniper joins Puck, who slings his arm around her waist. “Papa,” she begins. “This is Puck.”

Lark hustles back to Cerulean’s side and attaches herself to him. “And Cerulean.”

Thorne’s amusement fills the enclave. “We’ve met.”

Much to the sisters’ astonishment, we explain what has transpired since the moment everyone was separated. It takes considerable time. We sit around the steaming whirlpool, Cove curling against me while Lotus dunks himself into the basin and swims.

Lark’s reaction is nothing short of mercenary and haunted when she finds out what happened to her mate. Cerulean murmurs to calm her down and promises to show her the damage when they’re alone. He does not want to make a centerpiece of himself, nor of Puck.

Nevertheless, Lark vows to skin the trade poachers alive and “hang ’em upside down by their dicks.”

It is not an empty threat. What’s more, it is a fraction of what I would do.

The sisters confirm that Coral delivered my message and then escorted them to The Deep. It took a galloping herd of deer and an agitated boat trip to reach us.

And while Lark’s leg has healed, and it was no chore to impart how she was injured, there is one factor the sisters do not share with their father. I listen to Juniper rubbing her stomach, indecision directing her movements. She is calculating when to speak.

Puck tucks her into him, letting her make the choice of what to say and when.

Once our chronologies have aligned, Cove reaches out and grasps her father’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Papa.”

“I’d never want to be anywhere else,” he says, then lets his voice travel as he inspects the enclave. “I’m not going to lie, though. It’ll take some time getting used to what I’m seeing.”

“Unfortunately, time is not on our side,” Cerulean broaches. “We have enemies coming at us from two different fronts. We’re on the cusp of battle, and we don’t know who will strike first or how many days we have left to be ready.”

Indeed. Scorpio and his enhanced-fauna threats. Our Fae enemies. The humans of Cove’s town. There is much to prepare for and little to take for granted.

Waterfalls course through the enclave. Whirlpools stew in their own simmering heat.

This reserve has done Cerulean well. It is a good place for restoration, which is why the merfolk had chosen to dwell here—until they abandoned it after the flood, after opposing forces divided.

We all need time to rest before reconvening. That is the agreement.

“There’s one thing I’m missing.” Thorne’s puzzled tone cuts through the discussion. “I’m still eager to hear from my daughters about their games, plus this second way to restore the land. But the Evermore Blossom you all spoke of? Puck said you needed it because Juniper got sick.” He focuses on his daughter and the satyr, angling his body toward them. “What was wrong with you?”

It is a fatherly question. He would want to know the details, as both my mothers always did whenever a matter concerned me.

Everyone falls silent. Juniper’s rigid posture is palpable.

Thorne’s register lowers. “Juniper, are you unwell?” Concern slants his words. “You can tell me, my girl. If something—”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.

The words eject from her mouth like bubbles. I think she has stunned herself with the outburst. To say the least, the penchant suits Cove more than her.

Thorne draws in a rickety breath. “You’re what?”

“May we be excused?” Cove hazards. “This is personal.”

“No, you may not,” Thorne says, his gaze still presumably frozen on his younger daughter.

Indecision compromises my lady’s posture. She’s no longer nestled against me but upright.