Page 142 of Feral King

“No.”

“Look at me when you answer.”

She raises her eyes to mine. “No. I swear. I knew he was planning something, but I didn’t know what, or to what extent. I swear on Dmitri’s grave. Lyra, I was a vain, cruel woman who treated you horribly and raised a son who did the same. But I didn’t know about the coup. And when I found out, I panicked. I was scared. So I ran.”

Silence follows, long and heavy.

Julian’s hand on my shoulder is warm and grounding. He’s waiting, giving me the final say.

I look at Laura, this woman who has been so cruel to me, who told me that she would make me pay if I tried to worm my way into her family. Now, she’s the one standing on the outside.

But then I think of Mama, who told me never to hold onto hate.

I think about it for a few beats. And then I make my decision.

“Alright, Laura. You can come back, but under certain conditions. You’ll be admitted to long-term care under theFoundation’s medical patronage, and you will stay in a Foundation-owned apartment near the hospital. Ethan will handle security. You don’t attend family events without permission, and you don’t contact my son without permission. You don’t speak to the press—ever. And when you can, you volunteer at the literacy program in the Bronx. You owe a debt, and you’re going to pay it.”

“Yes,” Laura sobs. “Yes, to all of it.”

She looks at Anya, whose expression suggests she’s not quite sure what to make of her mother’s return.

“Laura, I want you to know that this isn’t forgiveness. This is humanity, and they’re not the same. Understand?”

“Y–yes.”

“Good.”

She looks at Julian, then at my son in Ethan’s arms. Her gaze then falls on Anya’s belly.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Alexander was a terrible influence on me. But I was a terrible influence on him first.”

Anya sighs. “Come on, Mom.”

Laura’s face lights up a little bit at her daughter’s words. Whatever Anya decides to do is her call.

Ethan nods to Julian, then hands a sleepy Marius over to him. He gives us a look that saysI’ll keep you both posted, then leaves.

Julian places Marius on the couch, where he curls up, eyes closing, purple fish-slash submarine drawing close athand.

He sits on the edge of my desk and looks at me for a long moment.

"You are an extraordinary woman, Lyra Volkov."

"I know."

"I would have sent her away with nothing."

"I know that, too."

He pulls me out of the chair and into his arms. His other hand drops without thinking to my stomach.

I place my hand over his, then smile broadly at him.

He looks down, then looks back up.

"Lyra."

"Julian."