She pul ed a face. If she were honest with herself, that was part of the problem.
Her problem.
She climbed the drive to the inn under storm-weathered trees, over rol ing green lawn. She was genuinely glad for Iestyn. How could she fail to be glad? She loved him.
But he’d never said the words to her. It was unlikely now that he ever would. She would have to find a way to live with that.
Or live without him.
Wearily, she climbed the stairs to their room. The door was unlocked. Kate Begley, she wondered, making the bed?
She almost turned away. She real y wasn’t in the mood for company. But the prospect of the cool, white room, of peace and solitude, beckoned too strongly. With a little sigh, she pushed opened the door.
Jude Zayin sat in the rocker by the window, his big, broad-shouldered body dwarfing the chair. Crowding the room.
He looked up at her entrance, his dark face unreadable.
Her heart stopped.
“Hel o, Lara,” he said. “I’ve come to take you home.”
20
I e s t y n wa n d e r e d a ro u n d t h e c o r n e r o f t h e house, beer in hand, a vague unease ruffling his mood like wind at the edge of a sail. The scent of the salt wood and saltwater blended with the aroma of charcoal-gril ed fish.
The tables set under the trees were set with food and surrounded by the Hunters’ extended family.
He liked it al , the view, the smel s, the mingling of merfolk and humankind. And felt slightly removed from the scene at the same time. He hadn’t been to a lot of family picnics in the past seven years. Or before then. But he felt instinctively that something was missing.
Lara.
A war of badminton was being waged over a net strung between two trees. Four players of varying heights and skil s competed on either side. Iestyn watched as a smal girl in a pink dress dropped her racket and burst into tears.
Her father—Caleb Hunter, Lucy’s brother—scooped her 2
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onto his shoulders and resumed play, the delighted child now wrapped like a hat around his head.
Iestyn grinned. But Lara wasn’t there to meet his eyes, to share a smile and the moment.
His sense of dissatisfaction grew. He scanned the yard, searching for her.
Conn and Lucy sat in camp chairs overlooking the ocean, Madagh drowsing beside them.
Iestyn dropped to a crouch at their feet, scratching the hound’s graying muzzle. “Hey, boy. Remember me?”
The old dog rol ed to his back, wriggling like a pup, his thin tail whipping the pine needles.
Iestyn’s throat tightened. He scratched the hound’s wiry bel y. “I thought you would have replaced him by now,” he said to Conn.
The sea lord lived forever. His dogs did not. But there was always a dog, always a deerhound, always named
“Madagh”—hound—at the prince’s side.
Conn smiled his wintry smile. “This one has led something of a charmed life. As, apparently, have you.”
“Yeah.” Iestyn realized, to his horror, that his eyes were wet.
He focused hastily on the dog. “I guess I hoped . . . I thought Roth and Kera might have made it.”
“We don’t know that they did not,” Conn said. “I have never stopped searching.”
“I never stopped hoping.” Lucy reached out and squeezed Iestyn’s forearm. His right arm, the one she’d healed seven years and a lifetime ago, after he stood with her against the demons. “For seven years, I’ve asked myself if I could have made another choice that would have saved Sanctuary.
What happened to you was my fault.”
Silence descended on the hil above the sea.
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“You must not blame yourself,” Conn said. “I have never blamed you. It was my decision to send the younger ones away.”
Iestyn cleared his throat. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said to Lucy. He turned to the prince. “Or yours. It was our decision to turn back. My choice. My responsibility.”
What had Lara said?
“None of us figured the ship would go down. Nobody could have predicted I’d turn up now, after al this time.
Maybe it was an accident. Or luck.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it was something else.”
“Destiny,” Conn said.
He met the sea lord’s eyes. “Maybe.”
Lucy smiled. “And here you are, safe and back with us again.”
Back among his own kind, she meant.
Back where he belonged.
Iestyn smiled, but a vague dissatisfaction stil gnawed his gut.
“The question is, where wil you go now?” Conn said.
He had no idea. His lack of direction had never bothered him before.
But something was missing. Something was wrong.
Lucy tipped her head. “Won’t you come with us? To Sanctuary.”
Iestyn pictured the green hil s and round towers, the magic island set like a jewel between the swaying kelp forests and swirling sky. The work of rebuilding was done, Lucy had told him earlier. Everything was as it had been.
He could go home again. He waited for the rush of relief, the sense of homecoming.
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And was surprised to hear himself say, “No.”
