sister Morwenna could have been his grandmother.”
Lara’s head spun. “So, Morgan is your . . . uncle? Great uncle?”
“Something like that.”
“Wouldn’t he have known?”
“I don’t think he cared. He and his sister were estranged after she married a human. None of her children could Change. Morgan probably never even thought about grandchildren.” Iestyn shook his head impatiently. “Anyway, that’s not the point.”
The sliver in her chest dug deeper. “What is the point?”
“I told you.” Iestyn took a deep breath. “I’m part finfolk.
Lucy told me that with her help, I can learn to Change.”
Lara stared at him, her mouth dry, her heart beating up in her throat. She had wanted to restore him to his people.
She had hoped to restore him to himself. Apparently she had succeeded beyond her wildest expectations.
“That’s . . .” She sought for a word. “Wonderful.”
“It’s everything. Lara.” Iestyn gripped her arms, the sunlight in his eyes and on his hair, his face lit with joy. “I can go back to sea again.”
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*
*
*
She was not running away, Lara told herself, pausing on the bluffs to watch a bird fold its wings and plunge into the sea.
She was merely taking some time to herself to think.
To regroup. No one would even notice she was gone.
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.
