by Zoe Chant
*Will. Always.* Fenrir’s broad pink tongue gently licked the tear from her cheek. *Once pack, always pack, Deep Bitch.*
Buck honked the horn again. “This motherloving bus is leaving, Joe! Stop chatting up that bird and get your long scaly ass in the truck. Unless your crystal ball has changed its mind?”
Joe jogged over. The Thunderbird watched him go. Its blank white stare was as enigmatic as always, but there was a thoughtful stillness to its stance.
Buck looked from the Thunderbird to Joe with narrowed eyes. “What was all that about?”
“Just checking that the big guy is ready to do his part,” Joe replied. “Chief, can I get one last moment with Seven?”
“Depends on what you’re planning to do with it,” the Superintendent grumbled. “Fine. But make it quick. The Kootenai fire isn’t going to contain itself.”
Buck put the crew vehicle in gear. Gravel crunched under the tires as the transport inched forward a few feet, leaving her alone with Joe.
For a moment, he only gazed at her, as intently as though he was trying to memorize her face. His own was set and solemn, his turquoise eyes deep and dark. He wore his battered firefighter gear as if it was a knight’s armor. He looked like some ancient warrior-prophet on the eve of battle. He looked like a prince. He didn’t look like himself at all.
Then, without a word, he opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace, his salt-sea scent wrapping around her, and he was still Joe, her Joe, her mate. She closed her eyes, pressing herself against his hard chest, feeling the soft, steady thump of his heart.
“Promise me you won’t take any risks,” she said.
His hands tightened on her back. “Like I said, the hellhound pack are too scared and weak to come after me again. All I have to do is stick with the squad, and I’ll be perfectly safe.”
The mate-bond was as steady in her soul as his heartbeat was under her cheek. He was telling the truth, she knew he was telling the truth…and yet she felt as though she was floating on the surface of the ocean, surrounded by sparkling light, unfathomable depths gaping below.
“Seven.” Joe leaned back a little, enough so she could look up into his eyes. “I promise you, this is going to work. I know exactly how to stop the demon. All the squad has to do is hold off the pack long enough for the Thunderbird to get through and set fire to it.”
“Then why can’t I be there?”
“Because it’s not your destiny.” He smoothed one of her braids back from her face. “I’m sorry, Seven. But this is the way it has to be.”
“But only for now,” she said, clutching at hope. “After—after all this is over, I can return to your side. We’ll be together again soon.”
His hand hesitated on her cheek. The faintest tremble went through the mate bond, like the distant ripple of some great sea beast stirring in dark, lightless depths.
“Seven.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You belong in Atlantis. That’s where your future lies. You have to be there, where you can take care of my family for me.”
“Your mother has all the knights of the sea at her command. She hardly needs me at her side.”
“But I need you there.” His voice hardened, in a way that she’d never heard before. “Seven, you gave me your oath. You have to stay in Atlantis. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. I can’t live like this any longer, constantly terrified of the future, of what could happen to you. You can’t come back to the squad. You’d only be in the way. You said it yourself, you can’t even shift on land.”
She had said it herself…and yet it still hurt to hear him say it. She released him, resorting to traditional etiquette to hide her sudden odd sense of betrayal. She gave him a formal bow, fist to heart. “May the sea guide you to victory, my prince.”
His expression didn’t so much as flicker, but she felt a strange reflection of her own pain down the mate bond, as though her words had stabbed him just as deeply. He echoed her salute, clumsily, with entirely the wrong degree of respect given the vast difference between their ranks.
“It already has,” he said. “Seven…”
He trailed off, words evidently failing him for once. He kissed her instead, long and deep and lingering. She stretched up to him, answering him in the same silent language.
All too soon, he pulled back. “I love you.”
Every instinct screamed to hold on to him, to never let him go—but she had sworn an oath. She made herself step back. “I love you too.”
He hesitated, one hand reaching out as though he too felt that urge to cling to each other. Then he let his arm drop again. Never taking his eyes off her, he walked backward until he reached the waiting crew transport.
“Joe!” she called after him as he swung himself inside. “Stay safe!”
He leaned out the window, flashing her a strange, brittle smile. “I love you,” he said again.
That was her last sight of him—hanging out of the window, smile dropping away, craning his neck to keep her in sight as long as possible as the transport rattled away.
And then he was gone.
Chapter 28
The first day on a big fire was always an exercise in organized chaos. Navigating the impromptu tent-city of fire crews and first responders; finding a spot amidst all the other interagency hotshot vehicles; reunions with crews they’d worked with before, introductions to others; unpacking and organizing the gear while the Superintendent and squad bosses liaised with Incident Command to work out the best plan of attack. And all in the acrid smog of an active wildfire, barely a few miles away.
With all the constant turnover of tired firefighters returning from the lines and fresh squads heading out, it should have been a piece of cake to slip away unnoticed. And it would have been, if not for one thing.
Or rather, one person.
“Bro,” he snapped. “I’m a big boy now. I can go to the toilet on my own. You don’t have to hold my hand.”
Callum still stuck to his heels like a red-headed shadow. “I have to go too.”
Like the pegasus shifter had conveniently needed to go at the same time as Joe the last four times. He’d also insisted on accompanying him to the water station (twice), the food truck (once), and the random crew that Joe had invented a pressing need to greet (fortunately, it had turned out that he did know one of the squad bosses there. Even more fortunately, she’d informed him—after her initial surprised, pleased hug—that she had a boyfriend now).
Joe was surprised at how easy it had been. He’d thought he’d have to act a lot more suspicious to make Callum follow him.
Now Joe stomped through the camp yet again, taking care to be as loud and visible as possible. He put on an aggrieved tone. “Did Rory put you up to this? Does he think there’s something I’m not telling you guys?”
“Is there?”
“I told you, the hellhounds have given up trying to kidnap me. You don’t have to keep following me around like a—”
He’d intended to say bodyguard, but his throat closed around the word. For a moment, all he could see was Seven. Her beautiful grey eyes, the elegant line of her neck, her strong, intoxicating body. How she’d stood, straight-backed and alone, as he’d left her behind.
Callum’s green eyes narrowed fractionally. Joe became aware that he’d just left his sentence dangling, and hastily added, “Uh, like the world’s worst secret agent. Seriously, bro. I got this. Trust me.”
Seven trusted him. She’d looked at him with such terrible, terrible trust, despite the awful things he’d said to her. In his desperation to make her let him go, he’d heartlessly exploited her insecurities, implying that she wasn’t good enough to protect him…and yet she’d still trusted him.
When she found out…
He hoped she did hate him, later. Maybe that would help her. He had to cling to that, to his certainty of her strength. She would make a life for herself; achieve her dreams. She would be happy.
Callum, on the other hand, was looking even less
happy than usual. He continued to dog Joe’s steps. “Fool me once.”
It took him a second to work out what the pegasus shifter meant. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
“Would it kill you to speak in complete sentences every once in a while?” Joe snapped, then winced. That wasn’t what he wanted his last words to his friend to be. “I’m really sorry, bro. I didn’t mean that. I’m kinda on edge.”
“I know.” To Joe’s astonishment, Cal reached out, awkwardly clasping his shoulder. It was just the briefest contact, but Joe couldn’t remember the last time Callum had willingly touched anyone. “Joe. We’re friends. Whatever is wrong, you don’t have to face it alone. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
For Callum, it was practically a Shakespearean soliloquy. Joe had to fight back a sudden mad urge to tell the pegasus shifter the truth. Maybe Cal would understand…
No. He couldn’t risk it. He had to stick to the plan.
They’d reached the edge of the encampment. Joe drew Callum behind a parked bulldozer, glancing around. No one was in sight.
It was time.
He dropped his voice. “Okay, look. I admit it. There’s something going on, something I couldn’t tell everyone else. If we’re going to defeat the demon, I need you to do something for me.”
A blink was the only sign of Callum’s surprise. “What?”
Joe drew Seven’s stunsword out from under his jacket. “Hold this. Not like that,” he added quickly, as Callum reached for the hilt. “This end, right here.”
Callum shot him a puzzled look, but obediently clasped the blunt, retracted business end of the weapon. “Now what?”
“Now I’m really, really sorry,” Joe said, and activated the stunsword.
He caught Callum as the pegasus shifter collapsed. He could only hope that he hadn’t zapped him too hard. The mate bond had let him channel just enough of Seven’s essence to fool the weapon into thinking he was its rightful owner, but he had none of her skill or finesse at controlling its magic.
“Sorry,” he told Callum again. He rearranged the pegasus shifter into a more comfortable position. He tucked the stunsword under Callum’s elbow like a teddy bear. “See that this gets back to Seven for me, okay?”
He struck out from camp, heading randomly into the forest. He had no idea where he was going, but that didn’t matter. He thrashed through the undergrowth, making as much noise as he could.
Come on, come on. He took off his jacket, pretending to wipe sweat off his brow as if overheated. Here I am. One sea dragon prince, ready and waiting. Come on, Wulfric, whoever you are—
Something sharp plunged into his shoulder. Cold numbness filled him.
With relief, he closed his eyes, and surrendered to fate.
Chapter 29
Time had never moved so slowly. She felt like a ghost in the deserted compound, frozen in an unchanging moment, forgotten and fading. She kept trying to keep herself busy, but any task she started immediately felt wrong. How could she presume to tend to the spare tools or clean the communal areas? She wasn’t a hotshot crew member.
She couldn’t practice sword-drills, either. Even if she’d had her weapon, she had forfeited the right to step through the ancient, honorable forms of a sea dragon warrior. Though her dishonor was not yet public, she had already given up her name. She wasn’t Seventh Novice of the Order of the First Water.
She wasn’t anyone.
The Thunderbird watched her impassively as she drifted from building to building, bereft of purpose. Its still, silent presence was no comfort. The great bird seemed to be waiting for something, just as much as she was.
In the end, she gave up and went to the gym. For hour after hour, she lifted weights and ran through conditioning exercises, all while keeping half an ear out for the sound of an approaching vehicle. Joe had said that Atlantis would send someone to fetch her, but not when or how.
She’d expected a helicopter, or possibly a car. What she hadn’t expected was for a tall, curvy, motherly woman to breeze into the gym without so much as a knock.
“Goodness, that’s a steep mountain. And a long walk up from the lake.” The woman settled her ample backside onto the end of the weight bench. She pushed back her long, tightly curled black hair, revealing a sweaty but smiling face. “Could I trouble you for a drink?”
Tongue-tied, Seven handed her water bottle to the Pearl Empress, Queen of Atlantis, the Heart of the Sea.
“Oh, that’s better.” The Empress took a long drink, then splashed a little water into her palm, patting it onto her forehead. She wasn’t wearing a crown, or formal robes of state; just a simple silk sundress that clung to her generous curves. “I really don’t know how you firefighters do it, you know. Just being outside in this heat has me melting into a puddle. I can’t imagine working flat-out for twelve, fourteen hours, and then getting up the next day and doing it all over again. I’m sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Neridia.”
It took Seven two attempts to form words. “Yes. I know.”
Neridia made a little grimace. Her eyes were exactly the same turquoise as her son’s. “I suppose you do. Atlantis is a small place, after all. Please don’t do that.”
Seven, who’d been belatedly sliding off the bench to drop into a formal genuflection, froze. Feeling about as graceful as a newborn goat, she got to her feet, straightening into parade rest. “Your Majesty—”
“Oh, no.” Neridia winced, just like Joe had done when she’d first addressed him by his title. “If I’m going to be your mother-in-law, we’ll have to ditch some of the etiquette. Otherwise family dinners are going to be terribly stilted.” She hitched over a little, patting the bench next to her. “Here. We need to talk. Sit down.”
Seven did so. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.
Neridia’s eyebrows lifted a little. “What for?”
“For…for being your son’s mate.”
Neridia gave her a long, considering look. “Are you sorry about that?”
Under the pressure of that penetrating, sea-deep gaze, the truth slipped out. “No.”
Neridia’s generous mouth curved upward. “Good. Then there’s hope for you both.” She leaned back on her hands, gazing thoughtfully around the shabby gym. “So this is where my son has been hiding from me.”
Seven thought of Joe’s deprecating words when he’d first shown her around the base; his flippant tone, and the clear love in his eyes. The warmth of the mate bond pulsed in her chest.
“He does miss you,” she said. “And Atlantis. But he belongs here, too. Please don’t make him give it up.”
Neridia’s face softened. “I would never ask him to give up something he loved.” She let out a soft sigh, her voice dropping. “I wouldn’t have to. He’s far too good at doing that all on his own.”
Oh, Joe’s mother knew her son. “He—he is very certain that this is the right path for us.”
“Yes, I know,” Neridia said, rather dryly. “He explained it to me at great length, and with a great many words. He was very convincing.” She pinned Seven once more with those unnerving, sea-colored eyes. “Now I want to hear what you think.”
Seven couldn’t hold the Empress’s gaze. She dropped her own to her hands, fidgeting. “I trust him. If he says that this is right, it must be.”
Neridia tilted her head. “Because he can see the future?”
Seven stared at her. “You…you know?”
“I have always known.” Neridia’s calm aura faltered. For a moment, she was just a mother, helpless to help her child. “Ever since he first started screaming in his sleep. But he always insisted they were just nightmares. He wouldn’t…” Her folded hands tightened. “He wouldn’t come to me.”
On impulse, Seven put her hand over Neridia’s. “I think he wanted to. But he was frightened. He thought that if anyone knew, he would lose his freedom.” She hesitated. “You know that he doesn’t want to be Emperor, don’t you?”
Neridia was silent for a moment.
A tear overflowed, running down her cheek.
“My biggest regret is that I didn’t give him a normal childhood,” the Empress said quietly. “I should have kept him out of the spotlight. But I couldn’t bear to leave him with a foster family, or a nanny. I told myself that he was only little, he needed to be with me just as much as I needed to be with him. And the Sea Council was so thrilled that the Imperial bloodline would continue, and everyone in Atlantis loved seeing the adorable little Crown Prince toddling at my side…I should have done better. I should have protected him.”
Her own mother’s face flashed in her memory. “Nobody’s childhood is perfect. The most important thing is that he knows what it feels like to be loved, unconditionally, just the way he is. That’s the greatest gift you could ever have given him.”
Neridia sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her nose in a very un-regal manner. “I am so happy that you’re his mate, Seven. And I would love to have you by my side in Atlantis. As a knight, and more. The Sea Council needs more diverse voices, voices like yours, if we are truly to do right for all the people of the Pearl Empire. But…”
Neridia drew in a deep breath, straightening. It was like she drew on an invisible robe of state as she did so. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t wearing a crown. She didn’t need one.
“But first,” the Empress said, meeting Seven’s eyes, “I need you to tell me, honestly, that you truly believe that Joe is right. That your place is with me, in Atlantis, and not by his side.”
Her shark circled around the glowing mate bond at the center of her soul. Seven reached for her animal, for her sense of Joe, for her heart.
She listened.
She shot to her feet. “I have to go. I have to go right now.”
Neridia nodded, unsurprised. “I rather thought you might. Is there any way I can help? Any assistance I can offer?”
“No. Thank you,” Seven added, belatedly. “Thank you for everything.”