Lara stood with Iestyn on the private dock that jutted out from the fingers of rock and the shelter of pines. Dylan and Regina’s house perched on a patch of short, sandy lawn above the bay, a traditional New England saltbox with a sturdy central chimney. The spare lines of the house were softened by tubs of blooming flowers and curtains blowing in the open windows. Cars and trucks parked haphazardly in the drive. Three boats were tied to the dock. Cats and children wandered underfoot, of both sexes and various ages, from teenagers to toddlers. She did her best to sort them out, to keep them straight, to match siblings to spouses to children, but they flowed together, sweeping around Iestyn and Lara in a warm, welcoming, undisciplined wave, merfolk and human.
For a people with a low birth rate, there certainly were a lot of them.
Confused and overwhelmed, Lara stuck close by Iestyn’s side, the one familiar face in this sea of friendly strangers.
She had always thought of him as someone fundamental y alone. Like her. Hadn’t he done his best to make her see him that way?
She bit her lip, the tiny pain a counterpoint to the pang at her heart.
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She knew al about the importance of community. Al along, she’d wanted to restore Iestyn to his own kind, to the protection of his people.
But what they’d actual y found was different. Unlike the nephilim at Rockhaven, the people in this house weren’t bound together by the need for self-preservation or some quest for self-improvement. It was disconcerting to realize that Iestyn had more than a community wil ing to reclaim him. This was a family waiting to embrace him.
Any doubt she might have harbored about that disappeared when the last boat tied at the dock and three passengers disembarked.
Lara squinted, her heart quickening as she recognized the figures from her dream. Iestyn’s dream.
“Is that . . .”
Conn ap Llyr, the sea lord, and his consort, Lucy.
Iestyn stiffened beside her. Under her hand, his arm muscles were rigid. His face was white with emotion.
“Go on,” Lara murmured and released his arm. “Go see them.”
With one bright, backward glance like a boy’s, he left her, striding down the sun-bleached dock, not quite running to meet them.
The dog, a massive, graying beast, barked.
The woman raised her head. Lara was close enough to see the emotions flit across her face. Shock. Relief. Delight.
Lucy held out her arms and Iestyn went into them.
*
*
*
He was tal er than Lucy now, Iestyn realized. The top of her head almost clipped his chin before she hugged him tight. 2 5 8
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“Iestyn,” she whispered. And again, as if she couldn’t believe it,
He adjusted his arms around her, her face warm and wet against his shirtfront. She was crying over him, which made him feel real y good and bad at the same time. Awkwardly, he patted her back, looking over her head to meet Conn’s gaze.
The sea lord regarded their embrace, his cool, austere face as unreadable as always. His silver eyes blazed with unidentifiable emotion.
Iestyn’s throat tightened. His heart clenched like a fist in the center of his chest. Everything he had done and failed to do in the past seven years crashed on him like a wave.
“Sorry about the boat,” he blurted out.
Lucy lifted her head from his chest. “The
Conn did not waste time on scoldings or reassurances.
He reached Iestyn in one quick stride and pul ed him into his arms, holding him hard in a wordless embrace.
Tears burned Iestyn’s throat. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head to the prince’s shoulder.
Final y—
*
*
*
Lara blinked back tears. She could feel the force of their connection. She recognized the love in the woman’s welcome, the naked look in the prince’s eyes. Her heart softened and yearned. But she kept away, wistful and more than a little envious, unwil ing to intrude on their private moment.
“Here.” A thin woman with chopped black hair thrust a tray at Lara. Her hostess, Regina Hunter, mother of Nick, Grace, and . . . Lara’s mind fumbled.
