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He opened his eyes again, his gaze bleak as the sea beyond the wall of windows at their backs. “I should have warned you, should have made us all think before we jumped into this nightmare—”

She gaped. “You did warn me. You warned us all.” She cupped his cheek in a hand. “But the only ones to blame for any of this are the Asteri, Hunt.”

“I should have tried harder. None of us would be in this situation—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” she said hotly, laying her palm on his chest. “Do I regret the pain and suffering that you all went through? Solas, yes. I can barely think about it. But do I regret that we took a stand, that we are taking a stand? No. Never. And you couldn’t have stopped me from starting that fight.” She frowned. “I thought we were on the same page about doing what needs to be done.”

His expression shuttered. “We were—are.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that.”

“You didn’t have to see your friends carved apart.”

The second the words were out, she knew from his wide eyes that he regretted them. But it didn’t stop them from hurting, from pelting her heart like stones. From sending her anger boiling up within her.

But she stared at the black ocean pressing against the glass, all that death held a few inches away. She said quietly, “I had to live with the terror of possibly never getting home, never seeing you again, wondering if you were even alive, every second I was gone.” She glanced at him sidelong in time to see something cold pass over his face. She hadn’t seen that coldness in a long, long time.

The face of the Umbra Mortis.

His voice was chilled, too, as he said, “Good thing we both made it, then.”

It wasn’t a resolution. Not even close. But this wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have with him. Not right now. So she said blandly, turning from the wall of windows, “Yeah. Good thing.”

“So we’re really headed to Avallen?” Hunt asked carefully, letting it drop as well, that Umbra Mortis face vanishing. “You ready to deal with King Morven?”

Bryce nodded, crossing her arms. “We won’t accomplish anything against the Asteri if I can’t learn what that portal to nowhere is and how it could possibly kill them. The Autumn King suggested that the Avallen Archives have a trove of information about the blades. And as for Morven … I just spent a few days with one asshole Fae King. Morven won’t be any worse.”

Hunt shifted on his feet, wings tucking in tight. “I’m down with the plan and all, but … you really think there’s anything in the Avallen Archives that hasn’t already been discovered?”

“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?”