Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,42

you even…”

Her mother lifted her eyes, dark with pain. “Because it was my fault. I’m the reason this happened to you.”

A denial choked up in Lana’s throat, but she didn’t say it. Because her mother was right. “It’s our blood,” she said instead.

Her mother let out a short, harsh breath. “Not just our blood.” She looked away again. “I killed the man who was your father. When I saw the electrical fire around that car, I realized…” She clenched her fist around the vodka bottle, crushing it. “We had one beautiful night together. The night we made you. A night that ended in a blue-white haze when his heart stopped, while mine…mine broke.”

“Not broken,” Sting rumbled. “It pulses still. And if there is blame, share it with the Cretarni, who forced us to send the Atlantyri away. Blame the Abyssa and her omens and the Tritonesse who neglected to give the exiles enough knowledge to survive the centuries apart. Blame those males who could not hold your power.”

Lana stiffened. “I’m not going to blame the victims.”

“Then you cannot blame yourselves.”

“I’m not a victim,” Lana said just as her mother said the same.

They looked at each other, and her mother snorted in wry amusement. The warmth seeped deeper into Lana’s heart. Growing up, their relationship had been like that, finishing each other’s sentences and laughing even when things were hard. To have lost that because of some vicious, endless war that they hadn’t even known was raging was beyond unfair.

Tentatively, she held out one arm. Without hesitating, her mother tucked her close to her shoulder. “I can’t believe I get you back,” she whispered.

“Oh, there’s all sorts of things you won’t believe.” Lana let out a watery laugh.

“You must learn to control being a nul’ah-wys,” Sting said. “On Tritona—”

Lana lifted her head to glare at him. “My mom hasn’t agreed to go there. Why should she come when we know that the Tritonesse will not be welcoming of another fire-witch?”

“Fire-witch?” Her mother shook her head. “I’m going to have a lot of questions, aren’t I?”

“I still have the IDA readings for becoming an alien bride.” Lana squeezed her mom. “I’m sorry to report that the universe might be bigger and more diverse than we guessed, but still as untrusting and warlike as this place.”

“Some of us are changing,” Sting objected. “Now that we’ve fought off or killed everyone in our way.”

Lana sneaked a glance at her mom. “Are you sure you want any part of this? It’s not too late to walk away.”

Sting flicked one finger. “But now that she knows about the intergalactic community—”

Lana waved him to silence, but her mom shook her head. “I’m not going to lose you again. No matter what.” She hugged Lana again before sitting up straight. “Besides, this Wavercrest syndrome is something I need to deal with, just as you do.”

“The ruling class on Tritona, the Tritonesse, think we’re the danger,” Lana warned. “They kicked me out.”

“Everyone who’s changed the world—for worse or better—has been considered a danger by someone,” her mother said.

But which one would they be—better or worse?

After one last hug, they packed up all of her belongings. “I got rid of everything I couldn’t carry here,” she said. “Because I knew, somehow, this is where I’d end up, one way or another.” Her smile flashed again. “But it’s not an end, is it? It’s a beginning.”

“The water circles the world,” Sting murmured in his low voice. “Never ending.”

As they headed back to Marisol’s estate, to Lana’s amazed delight—and a small touch of consternation—they fell right back into the easy togetherness of her youth, tucked together in the backseat. They shared a quick recap of their years apart, her mother’s gaze kept drifting to Sting in the driver’s seat. “He’s very big,” she whispered.

Lana hissed at her. “Tritonyri are enhanced warriors,” she warned under her breath. “They can see and hear and sense more than most.”

Her mother hummed. “Big enough to absorb a zap?”

The urge to make an embarrassed retreat engulfed Lana but she had to admit, “Yeah, a few of them.”

From the front, Sting didn’t twitch or comment, and Lana wasn’t sure she appreciated this newfound diplomacy of his.

When they got to the estate, Thomas welcomed them with the elegant charm he’d always shown—and maybe a little more? “We’re delighted to welcome the first Wavercrest inheritor,” he said. “Other than the original three, of course.” He flicked a glance at Lana before turning his approving gaze on her mother. “Ms. Wavercrest,