Thalassa had her hand on the pillar of water that encased a woman with skin dark as liquid ebony and a face more beautiful than legend. We stood amongst the ruins of a once spectacular castle. I felt another soul hidden in shadow, standing in darkness, watching us. I knew it was Oiwot, the frozen woman’s husband. I had no doubt that, should Thalassa do anything other than heal what she had destroyed in the curse, he would come for her. And if he came for her, it would mean war for us all.

Oiwot was a native god of his world, and his powers were no small thing. But we’d come in peace, and it was time to fix the mess that was this new world, starting with the woman in glass.

“Her name is Fable,” I said, my heart squeezing as I looked at her beautiful face. Large eyes so much like her mother’s, skin as dark as the deepest trenches of Thalassa’s waters, and a heart as pure and bright as Apollo’s sun. Seeing her frozen features, I was bombarded by memories of her. Of me. Of us. Remembering how many times I’d held her as a child and rocked her to sleep because she’d been so very precious to me. The millions of books we’d read together, some of them more than once because she’d loved them so much. And the times she’d looked me in the eye and had said, in her child-like drawl, “Love you, Papa.”

I swallowed hard, fingers clutching at my sides. Keeping her trapped as she was had been one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do in my life, but only the person who’d first cursed her could undo the curse. Thalassa hadn’t been in her right mind when she’d done as she’d done. She’d not known anything other than the agony and pain of an elemental’s chaotic memories. And I could see the regret of her actions written all over her.

Thalassa glanced at me over her shoulder, her dark blue eyes shining with tears. “I know who she is. Who she was. I remember.” She turned back around, tenderly running her fingers over the visage of the woman’s face, forever preserved in a scream. Her voice shivered as she said, “I remember our granddaughter.”

My heart trembled every time she did that, told me of her memories. All those nights without her now felt like a fading memory, A terrible dream of another time that was no longer ours.

Without speaking another word, Thalassa whispered one word beneath her breath.

Release.

And then she stepped back, clasped her fingers together, and bowed her head. Dressed in a gown of sheer blue, with wave-like curls running down her back, she looked small, fragile, and tortured. But she’d asked me to stand back, and I would honor her wishes.

My eyes were on Fable alone as the waters that’d perpetually drowned her began to recede, pulled away from her body. Behind us, the shadow stirred, and I heard the sharp inhalation of breath, saw Oiwot began to pull away from the darkness he’d hidden himself in.

He looked like hell. His eyes were rimmed in red, and his face was haggard and full of a beard that’d never been there before. His matted hair dragged well past his back, almost to his knees. His once-bronze skin was now a pale imitation of that color. I knew the pain of loss only too well and how it turned a man’s pride in on itself, like a cancer, eating away at any sense of shame or humiliation, completely lost to the demon of your mate’s loss.

Then the water was gone, and Fable blinked. Then she blinked again. She looked around in startled wonder before her eyes fell on her grandmother, who was now shaking with her silent sobs.

“Grandmother?” Fable spoke for the first time since she’d been trapped in that glassy water, and I trembled all over, knees going weak. Feeling as though I might drop.

My girl was safe now. She was safe.

Thalassa shook her head but didn’t move otherwise. Her throat worked hard, and I knew she was fighting to keep herself sane. I felt the crush of her disappointment in her own actions as though they were a hammer blow to my chest.

“I forgive you,” Fable said, voice husky and thick with her own unshed tears, as she wrapped her lovely arms around her far-too-quiet grandmother. “I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t.”

“I didn’t, Fable. I didn’t my beloved. I didn’t.” Thalassa’s words came out rushed and full of anguish as she collapsed into her granddaughter’s arms, and together, they cried as they both began to heal.

Oiwot stepped forward, looking as though he meant to interrupt them, grab up Fable and steal her away. There was shock and pain and sorrow written all over him. He was a broken man coming slowly back to life.

Stepping over to him, I clamped my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He glanced at me, his expression dazed.

I shook my head. “Give them their moment.”

His jaw clamped shut, and I understood. If someone had told me to hang back after Thalassa’s awakening, I’d have probably killed them myself. But this was private and just for them.

They’d both suffered so much. Far more than most.

Turning him by his shoulders, I pointed him in the direction of the wash room. “Clean up. When you are through, say my name, and I will send her to you.”

His nostrils flared, and though I knew that Fable had forgiven us, I did not believe for a second that we’d so easily won over her husband.

But trust was not a thing easily built. In a second, we had dashed his faith in us, and it could take centuries to earn it back. We would earn it back though. I clipped a hard nod at him. “Have faith and believe that the end has finally come. We will do right by her.”

His lip curled. “You’d better.”

And though I’d expected more opposition, he turned on his heel and did as I’d asked. He was angry, and he had every right to be, but I’d meant what I’d said too.

I walked out of the castle, waiting for Thalassa beneath the noonday sun, giving her and Fable the time they needed.

She came to me almost an hour later, still trembling, but smiling softly.

I took her hand the instant she sat beside me, curling her tightly into my body, not wishing to be apart from her even another minute.

“Do you honestly believe we can fix this?” she asked softly, several minutes later.

I stared at the beauty of the setting sun over the grass-green hills and nodded. “I do, Thalassa. It will take time, and we will have to work diligently to repair all that’s been wrought, but I know deep in my soul that the curse is fixed because you are here.”

She frowned, pushing slightly against my chest as she stared deeply into my eyes. “Me?”

Brushing my thumb over her softly rounded jaw, I nodded. “You. You have a tenacity of spirit that leaves me breathless. Whatever you set your mind to, you will accomplish. You always have.”

She snorted, looking shy but flattered. “You would say that, knowing I failed to keep my intentions to drown all the lesser gods in their beds. I failed at that.”

I shook my head, kissing her forehead hard before saying, “You did not fail, my Queen. If you’d really wanted to, you could have usurped supreme authority over all. But you didn’t really want to.”

It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t treat it as one. Instead, she curled her fingers tight into my shirt and shook her head. “No, my Death. I didn’t. I only wanted you. I was simply too blinded by fury to realize it at first.”

Grinning, I grunted softly beneath my breath. There were so many things we should be doing now—fixing the rest of the happily ever afters, making amends for all that had been done, righting all the wrongs.

But for just a moment, I was going to enjoy having my female back. I was going to be selfish and hold her because I’d gone too long without.

She turned her face toward Apollo’s sinking sun. “Just until it sets,” she said softly, as though reading my mind, and I nodded my assent.

“Until it sets,” I said softly.

With a soft sigh, she rested her cheek against my chest and wrapped her arms tightly around me.

This was heaven.

Wherever she was, it was heaven. It was perfect, and never again would I fail to appreciate every hour, minute, and second I had with her.

“I love you, Thalassa,” I murmured tenderly as the sky turned a dark shade of navy along the horizon.

“And I you,” she said just as tenderly, “always.”

Together we smiled, and we enjoyed the rest of that sunset. When it was done, we stood and looked outward, hearing all the cries of those still desperate, still lost.

“Who next?” she asked. “There’s a pirate without his mate. A restless and aching gorgon. A sister who cannot truly feel. A piper with a stone enchanted beau—”

I chuckled softly. “Let’s not get too overwhelmed. There are far too many to list. But we’ll get to them all. I promise.”

“When?” she asked, sounding almost impatient.

I dropped a kiss onto her forehead before saying, “We’ll make a list and work our way down. How about that?”

“Hmm.” She nodded, as though in assent before tapping my chest with a long nail. “I wonder what Dite’s doing?”

Wrapping my arm around her waist even tighter, I opened a portal between the here and there and murmured tenderly, "Why don’t we go see.”

“Yes, Death, lets.”

And that was just what we did.