PRESENT…

I tell them everything I kept hidden, and so do they, and when we’re done, I’m not ashamed to say I’m fighting the desire to burst into tears. Poor Lud. “You have a daughter?”

Lud nods, his face etched with misery. “I should have told you everything from the start,” he says. “But I abandoned her, Felicity. You told us once about your father. I thought…” His voice trails off.

“You thought I’d judge you for it?” My throat feels thick with tears. I take Lud’s hands in mine. “How could you think that? My father’s still alive. He’s in Los Angeles. He had a thousand ways of contacting me, but he never once did.” I lean against him. “You were exiled. Sent here to die, with no ability to contact anyone. What happened sucked, but it was not your fault.”

Something just occurs to me, and I breathe in sharply. “Oh my God,” I whisper in utter horror. “It was my fault. Had I been there that night... Had I not let Herrix sway me…” I gaze at them, my heart sinking in my stomach. They had come to find me, to tell me everything, to ask me to leave with them. And I, like a fool, had thought they were coming to say goodbye, and because I couldn’t bear to have my heart broken, I’d hidden in Bolox’s treehouse so they couldn’t find me.

I did this. Had we been able to leave with Belfox and Herrix, his daughter might have survived.  “It’s my fault that she’s going to die,” I say out loud, my blood turning to ice. “Oh, Lud. Can you ever forgive me?”

He kisses the top of my hair. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he says quietly. “I don’t think Herrix ever planned on taking you. He had nothing but contempt for anyone who wasn’t Highborn.”

Xan nods. “He knew we wouldn’t leave without you, don’t you see? That’s why he came to see you. He thought that if he planted a wedge between us, we’d leave without you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You are my life, Felicity,” Lud says simply. “You are my heart. I can’t live without you.”

I start to tear up. My poor mate. His daughter is dying, and he’s stuck here, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

“Can you at least tell her what happened?”

Xan shakes his head. “Belfox and Herrix took the communicator with them.”

Damn it. “What about the ship that crashed,” I ask, grasping at straws. “Was there another communicator there?”

“No,” Lud says heavily. “I asked Thrax to search the area. There’s one that might be fixable, but there are no spare parts here. Well, not any we can use.”

I look up, alerted by the change in tone. “What does that mean, not any we can use?”

He sighs. “Dariux is your friend,” he says. “I don’t want to affect your opinion of him. Thrax thinks that he can scavenge what he needs from the ThoughtVault.”

I stiffen. “And Dariux said no?” I’m going to kick his ass.

They exchange looks. “We didn’t ask.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I jump to my feet. “Come on,” I tell them firmly. I might not fight for myself, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Lud go through this alone.

“You might not be able to save her,” I tell him. “But you can at least get a message to her.” I take a deep breath. So many nights, I wished for one message from my dad. One email, one phone call, one birthday card. Anything. Any sign that he remembered I existed. “Trust me,” I say softly. “It’s going to matter to her that her father cared.”

They know I’m choking back my tears, but they don’t try to tell me not to cry. They just hold me in their arms, and comfort me, and promise to be with me forever. And this time, there’s no doubt in my heart that they mean every word.

* * *

We’ve talked through the night. It’s dawn, and the sun is starting to rise, the sky slowly filling with light. Dariux is sitting on the bank of Lake Ang, staring into the distance. He looks up at our approach. “Do you have Zunix’s ThoughtVault with you?” I demand.

He takes in the three of us. “Technically, it’s my ThoughtVault now,” he replies. “But to answer your question, yes I do. Why?”

I cross my fingers behind my back. Come through for us, Dariux. We really need you to do the right thing now. “I need to scavenge parts from it.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Start at the beginning,” he says. “What’s going on?”

I give Lud a sidelong glance. I can’t tell Dariux about his daughter; that’s my mate’s secret, and if he wants to keep it, I won’t protest.

But to my surprise, he speaks up. “I need a communicator,” my mate says quietly. “My daughter is dying, and I want to send her a message before it’s too late.”

As if those words uncork a seal, the rest of the story comes pouring out. He tells Dariux everything. Receiving the note from the healer just before he tested positive for the mutation. Spending sixty-five years wishing he’d only checked his messages before he got into line. Herrix and Belfox’s offer, the latest note from the healer, telling him that Mar’vi’s dying. And finally, knowing that they’re gone and that he can do nothing to save his child.

“He should at least be able to explain, Dariux.” I gaze at him beseechingly. “She deserves to know the truth before she dies.”

Dariux looks puzzled. “The woman you slept with,” he says. “Did she not have family whose blood the healer can use?”

Lud shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know,” he says. “It was one night.”

“She died sixty-five years ago,” Xan says. “And it sounds like she moved around a lot, right? Luddux met her in Zydna, but she was on her way to Kraush. There are billions of people in the High Empire, and official records aren’t perfect. They get lost. Maybe the healer just couldn’t find them.”

“He can’t,” Dariux replies intently. “But I can.” A slow smile spreads across his face as he gets to his feet, “What I have is a sixty-five-year-old copy of the Spymaster’s own ThoughtVault. Surax spied on everybody. Let’s see if we can find your daughter’s family.”