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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 …