Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

admired her tenacity. He understood what it was to meet one’s obligations, day after day, year after year, without hope or expectation.
    “Why do you do it?” he asked.
    She smiled crookedly. “Who else will?”
    He understood that, too.
    Their gazes locked. Beneath the surface of her eyes, kelp green shadows swayed. Conn’s chest tightened. Why was the sea reflected in her eyes?
    The doorbell rang.
    She dropped her gaze.
    For a moment, he could not breathe.
    No , he thought. Stay.
    But she was already moving past him to the door. “That will be Cal and Maggie.”
    She sounded relieved. Or perhaps she was merely pleased to see her brother.
    Conn observed their greeting, the tall, quiet police chief in his rumpled uniform, the tall, quiet schoolteacher with garden dirt on her jeans. They did not embrace. But their silent exchange—his long, assessing look, her quick, reassuring smile—revealed their bond.
    “Touching, is it not?” Margred murmured in Conn’s ear. “The Hunters are a very loyal family.”
    He recognized her warning.
    “And you, Margred?” He challenged her softly, this woman who had once been selkie. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
    She widened her eyes. “Why, with my husband, my lord,” she said and moved away.
    The door opened again, and Dylan entered with the small, dark, pregnant woman he intended to marry.
    Around his neck, he wore the silver medallion, the warden’s mark: three interconnected spirals representing the domains of earth, sea, and sky. The sign of Dylan’s new power . . . and his duty to his prince.
    He did not make the mistake, this time, of addressing Conn by title. He bowed stiffly.
    Conn nodded in acknowledgment.
    “Well.” Dylan’s woman cocked her head like a bird, her gaze darting around the hall. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been on my feet since four this morning, and I’d like to sit down.”
    Lucy jumped. “Of course. Why don’t we use the living room?”
    “Actually, Lu . . .” Her brother Caleb’s slow voice dragged her back from the doorway. “Maybe you could put up a pot of coffee.”
    “I don’t . . . Tea?” she offered.
    “Tea would be great. Thanks.”
    She changed course toward the kitchen while the others flowed into the darkened living room.
    Dylan switched on a lamp, casting a pool of yellow light over a table. “That’s better.”
    Did he refer to the light? Conn wondered. Or his sister’s absence?
    Caleb took a stand with his back to the wall and his eyes on the door. “What have you told her?” he Page 19
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    asked Conn.
    Conn raised his eyebrows. “Very little. Though I am curious why you have not told her more.”
    “She is human,” Dylan said.
    “So is your brother,” Conn said.
    On the sofa, Margred crossed her legs. “Caleb faced a demon for me. He deserved to know who I was.
    And what their mother was.”
    “Milk or sugar?” Lucy asked breathlessly from the hall.
    Silence thickened the air.
    They did not want her there. Conn felt their discomfort as a living, pulsing barrier, drawing them together, leaving Lucy alone on the outside.
    She felt it, too. Conn saw the red tide sweep her face.
    He had already learned what he could from her. He needed Dylan’s report.
    Yet looking at her flushed cheeks, her soft, stricken eyes, he felt almost sorry for her.
    “Sugar, please,” Margred said.
    The other woman, the pregnant one, pulled herself to her feet. “I’ll help,” she said kindly.
    But Lucy was already backing away, shaking her head. “I’ve got it.”
    “Why don’t you set out everything in the kitchen,” Caleb suggested. “We’ll join you when we’re ready.”
    Lucy flinched and then was still, like a wounded animal that will not call attention to itself. “Actually, I just
    . . . I have lesson plans to do. Upstairs.”
    They sat, listening to the sound of her retreating footsteps.
    The pregnant woman crossed her arms over her stomach and shot Caleb an accusing look. “Smooth, Cal. Very smooth.”
    Caleb rubbed the back of his neck.
    “She couldn’t stay,” Margred said.
    “Not after that,” the woman— Regina, that was her name —said.
    “Not at all,” said Dylan. “She’s not involved. She doesn’t even know what’s going on.”
    Conn was struck by a sudden vision of Lucy’s face burning in the water of the tide pool.
    She was involved. Somehow.
    He had to find the reason, a