House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

“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.”





44


Ithan was carefully setting down a figurine of Cthona giving birth on all fours—the planet Midgard crowning between her legs—when Jesiba’s phone rang. The shrill sound shattered the silence, but Ithan’s sunball reflexes kept him from dropping the fragile marble.

“What.”

Even Ithan’s wolf-keen hearing couldn’t make out the person on the other end.

“Fine.”

She hung up, gaze instantly shooting to Ithan. He gently nestled the figurine into a crate, packing peanuts rustling. “What is it?” he asked carefully.

“Come with me.” She got to her feet and strode across the room with surprising speed considering her dark blue four-inch heels. She hadn’t bothered to change her hair back to its usual short length, and the sight of her swaying golden locks was … odd. So was the face free of its usual makeup. She might very well have been a few years older than Ithan for all she appeared.

She halted at the doorway and pointed to the wall adjacent to the bookshelf. “Bring that with you. It’s loaded.”