Blood Memory

The council chamber still hummed with aftershocks—of threats, of declarations, of truths too jagged to sit quietly inside my chest.

But nothing echoed louder than his voice.

I want redemption.

And I want to see the council burn.

Lysarien Vale. My cousin. My betrayer.

The last thread of my bloodline before it unraveled into memory and ash.

He sat across from me now in Cassian’s private war room—hands cuffed in iron as a precaution, though the magic suppressors humming at his wrists did most of the work. He looked older. Thinner. Like betrayal had starved him.

But his voice?

It still had that same poisoned-silk charm that once convinced me to trust him.

I sat with my arms crossed, flanked by both of my mates—Cassian looming like a storm about to crack, Xanden coiled and silent, as dangerous in stillness as in motion.

“You didn’t hesitate,” I said finally, my voice low. “You handed my mother over like a name on parchment.”

“I was seventeen—”

“Old enough to choose loyalty over cowardice,” I snapped.

He flinched, just once.

But it was there.

Good.

“Why now?” I asked. “Why crawl back now, when everything you could’ve protected has already been lost?”

His eyes met mine.

And for one flickering moment, I saw something raw underneath—guilt, yes. But also fear.

Not of me.

Of something else.

“Because they’re not just planning to use you,” he said. “They’re preparing to unmake you.”

Xanden stepped forward. “Explain.”

“The Deep One is real,” Lysarien said. “It sleeps below the Vault of Tides. The Council’s been searching for the royal key—her blood—to wake it. To bind it. They think if they control the first siren, they can control all supernatural bloodlines.”

Cassian’s voice was quiet, lethal. “And you brought this to us to do what, exactly? Apologize and hope we hand you a sword and call it even?”

Lysarien looked at me, and only me.

“I came because I was the only one who survived. Because I watched your mother bleed for the world, and I let it happen. I’ve hated myself every day since. I want to fight. For her. For you.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because part of me remembered the boy he’d been. The way he used to braid sea glass into my hair and tell me stories of how we were born from gods. The way he used to believe in me.

And another part—the sharper, colder part—remembered the way my mother screamed when they dragged her from our home.

He had watched.

And done nothing.

“You’re not forgiven,” I said quietly.

He nodded.

“I don’t expect to be.”

“But you’re not walking away, either.”

That surprised even Cassian.

I stood, moving to the center of the room. The ocean in my blood stirred. My voice dipped, wrapped in something deeper.

“If you want redemption,” I said, “you’ll earn it. With truth. With sacrifice. And if you lie to me again—”

Cassian finished for me, voice like thunder: “We’ll feed you to the Deep One ourselves.”

Lysarien smiled faintly. “Fair enough.”

BETWEEN FIRE AND MOONLIGHT

Cassian’s estate was nothing like I’d imagined the demon king’s lair to be.

It was… quiet.

Elegant, but not cold. Hidden just outside the city in a high-blood protected zone, where infernal wards laced the stone walls and fae glamour wrapped the woods in soft, shifting shadow. The manor itself was carved from volcanic stone and darkwood, built like a fortress with the soul of a cathedral.

But the moment I stepped inside?

It felt like a home.

Not mine.

Not yet.

But maybe it could be.

The doors shut behind us, sealing the world out. Cassian’s shadows coiled along the floor, sentient and content to guard the perimeter. Xanden pressed a kiss to the back of my neck as I walked farther in, unbuckling his sword.

“I don’t trust him,” Cassian said, voice low as he moved to pour us each a drink. “Not for a godsdamned second.”

“I don’t either,” I said. “But he’s afraid.”

Xanden nodded, toeing off his boots. “He should be.”

I sank into the plush couch before the hearth, the weight of the day finally cracking my composure. My hands were still shaking. Whether from rage, memory, or something deeper, I couldn’t tell.

Cassian crossed the room and handed me a crystal glass—dark amber liquid swirling like liquid fire. I took it. Drank.

“Your cousin’s a snake,” he said. “But he’s a useful one. You were smart to keep him close.”

“Doesn’t feel smart,” I whispered.

“Feels like betrayal,” Xanden added gently, joining me on the couch and pulling me between them.

Their presence pressed in on both sides—heat and calm, shadow and light.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” Xanden murmured.

“I do,” I said. “If I’m not, it’ll swallow me.”

Cassian took my glass, setting it aside. “Then let us be strong for you.”

I let them touch me—Xanden’s fingers tracing my spine, Cassian’s hand curling possessively around my thigh. My head fell back against the plush cushion as the bond pulsed—warm, deep, alive.

“I hated him,” I said, voice barely audible. “I loved him like a brother. And the moment they came for her, he didn’t even scream.”

“You don’t owe him forgiveness,” Cassian said. “Only survival.”

Xanden leaned in, brushing his lips over my temple. “And vengeance. If that’s what you want, we’ll help you deliver it.”

The tears caught me off guard—hot and silent, slipping down my cheeks like the tide returning to shore.

They didn’t comment.

They just pulled me closer.

Cassian lifted me into his lap, fingers threading through my hair, his mouth brushing mine—hungry and tender and claiming. His voice rumbled low between kisses.

“You’re not alone anymore, siren.”

Xanden wrapped his arms around both of us from behind, his voice a whisper against my neck.

“You have us.”

And gods help me—I believed them.

Just a little.

Enough to breathe again.

Enough to face the storm that was coming.