“Poor Nesta’s been in the doghouse since you took their weapons and dumped us here,” Ember explained. “I tried telling Rhysand and Azriel how there’s no stopping you when you’ve got your mind set on something, and I think Feyre—Rhysand’s mate—believed me, but …” Ember glanced at Nesta and winced. “I apologize again for my daughter’s behavior.”
“I made the choice to give her the Mask,” Nesta reminded Ember. To Bryce, she added wryly, “Your mother somehow doesn’t believe that I did so willingly.”
Bryce rolled her eyes at her mother. “Great. Thanks for that.” She gestured to the portal shimmering behind them. “Shall we?”
Ember smiled softly. “They’re truly gone, then.”
“Gone, and never to be heard from again,” Bryce said, her heart lifting with the words.
Ember’s eyes gleamed with tears, but she turned, taking Nesta’s hands and clenching them tightly in her own. “Despite the fact that my daughter lied and schemed and basically betrayed us …,” she started.
“Tell us how you really feel, Mom,” Bryce muttered, earning an amused sidelong glance from Nesta.
But Ember continued, looking only at Nesta, “I am glad of one thing: that I was able to meet you.”
Nesta’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced down at their joined hands.
Bryce cut in, if only to spare Nesta from her mom’s increasingly weepy-looking expression, “Next time I take on intergalactic evil, I’ll try to accommodate your bonding schedule.”
Ember finally looked over at Bryce, glaring. “You and I are going to have words when we get home, Bryce Adelaide Quinlan. Leaving Cooper behind like that—”
“I know,” Bryce said. She had a lot to answer for on that front. And apologizing to do.
“Your mother loves you,” Nesta said quietly, reading the exasperation on Bryce’s face. “Don’t for one second take that for granted.”
Bryce could only incline her head to Nesta. “I’m lucky,” she admitted. “I’ve always been lucky to have her as a mom.”
Ember really looked like she might cry now, especially as she turned back to Nesta and said, “This time with you was a gift, Nesta. It truly was.”
With that, she pulled Nesta to her in a tight embrace, and Bryce could have sworn something like pain and longing crossed Nesta’s expression. Like she hadn’t experienced a mom-hug for a long, long time.
So Bryce gave the female some privacy to enjoy every second of that motherly embrace and turned to where Randall and Cassian stood behind them. The males had clasped arms warmly. “Thanks, friend,” Randall was saying to the warrior. “For everything.”
Cassian grinned, and, well, Bryce could see why Nesta might be into a male who looked like that. “Maybe we’ll meet again one day, under less … strange circumstances.”
“I hope so,” Randall said, and as he passed by where Ember and Nesta were still hugging, he clapped the latter on the shoulder with fatherly affection.
Bryce’s heart swelled to the point of pain as Randall approached Hunt and hugged him, too. Hunt returned the embrace, thumping her father on the back before they separated to pass through the portal together.
Ember at last pulled away from Nesta. But she gently put a hand to the female’s cheek and whispered, “You’ll find your way,” before walking toward the portal.
Bryce could have sworn there were tears in Nesta’s eyes as her mother stepped back into Midgard.
But those tears were gone when Nesta met Bryce’s stare. And Cassian, like any good mate, sensed when he wasn’t wanted, and walked over to the fireplace to pretend to read some sort of old-looking manuscript. Bryce knew that, also like any good mate, if she made one wrong move, he’d rip her to shreds. Which was precisely why Hunt had come back into the room, and was watching Nesta carefully.
“Alphaholes,” Nesta echoed, eyes gleaming with amusement.
Bryce chuckled and drew the Starsword. Again, Cassian tensed, but Bryce just offered the blade to Nesta. The female took it, blinking.
“You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.”
Nesta lifted her head. “So?”
“So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.”
“I don’t understand.”
But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.”
101
The Depth Charger had anchored offshore, since the nearest port to the Eternal City was too shallow to accommodate the city-ship. Standing beside Ruhn, Lidia stared at her sons as they waited on the concrete pier while the transport pod surfaced, water sloshing off its glass dome top.
Revealing Renki and Davit, both waving wildly at the two boys standing beside Lidia.
At her sons, who were smiling at their dads, Brann enthusiastically waving back, Ace giving a smaller—but no less earnest—wave as well.
Ruhn placed a gentle hand on Lidia’s back, and she leaned into the reassuring, loving touch. Her mate. Yes, she knew it without a doubt.
The glass top of the pod opened, and then Renki and Davit leapt gracefully onto the pier, Brann and Ace running for them—
It was pure love and joy, the embraces shared between the boys and their fathers. Renki had tears of relief running down his face, and Davit was holding both boys to him as if he’d never let them go again.
But Davit did let go. He crossed to Lidia in two strides and wrapped his arms around her, too. “Thank you,” the male said, voice choked with tears. “Thank you.” Renki was there the moment Davit pulled back, hugging her as tightly.
Lidia found herself smiling, even as her heart was again aching, and leaned away to survey her sons.
They were both considering her, Brann frowning deeply, Ace more unreadable. It was the former who said, “So this is goodbye?”
Lidia glanced to Renki and Davit, who both nodded. They’d spoken on the phone yesterday to coordinate this reunion—and what lay ahead. “Until things settle down a bit up here,” Lidia said. “Above the surface, I mean.”
Because even in the day since the Asteri had been vanquished, shit was already hitting the fan. The drainage of the firstlight grid was going to be a huge problem. But the Ocean Queen had fueled all her city-ships and their various pods without firstlight. With her own power. Maybe the ruler had some insight into how they might adapt their tech to move beyond consuming firstlight.
The Ocean Queen, of course, hadn’t been happy when Lidia had sent a messenger to the Depth Charger. Lidia had kept her note short and efficient:
I trust that my services are no longer required and henceforth resign from your employ.
With gratitude for your compassion,
Lidia Cervos
The Ocean Queen had dispatched her reply—again on a briny piece of kelp—an hour later.
I have bigger issues to consider than your loyalty, Lidia Cervos. I accept your resignation, but do not fool yourself into thinking that this is the last we shall cross paths. For now, you may live your life Above.
It was the best Lidia could hope for.