The manicured order of Alitea had been swept away, and the earth had sprung up new in its place. The land sloped down from the mountain into the harbor, a symphony of green plants, grey rock, and brown soil dotted with stones. There were no animals. No people. The boat came to rest in the shallows, and Lucien, Makeda, and Carwyn climbed out, splashing over a pebbled beach until they reached the smooth pathway bordered by cypress.

“When she talks about remaking the world, she doesn’t joke around,” Carwyn said quietly.

“No,” Lucien said. “She does not.”

Makeda looked around. “What happened to… everything? There was a city here. Roads. Buildings.”

“She’s never liked those things,” Lucien said. “If this is her new kingdom, it will be a very different one from the old.”

He linked Makeda’s hand in his and walked up the path toward the smell and sounds that were home to him. Distant chatter in a variety of tongues. A campfire. Roasting coffee.

Saba, Kato, Arosh, and Ziri sat on blankets under a spreading olive tree. Kato leaned against a stone, and Arosh lay with his head in Saba’s lap as she stirred a pan over some coals. The queen of the vampire race was roasting coffee on an island she’d remade in one night.

“Are you well, Emaye?”

“I am well, yene Luka.”

Arosh sat up and smiled at Lucien. “It is better, is it not?”

Lucien could feel the volcano’s energy. It wasn’t dormant, but it was calm. The earth was verdant and the air full of life. The waves rolled gently against the shore; he could hear the sea lap against what was left of the carved marble blocks piled along the harbor. The breeze carried the hint of citrus blossoms and salt air.

Lucien looked around the island and nodded. “It is good.”

Ziri was perched on a tall rock that might have been a pediment once. The smooth white marble was already covered in moss. “We will build a city again. Eventually. For now, the vampires we have gathered may stay in the cliff rooms.”

“The ones the birds are trying to take over?”

Saba shrugged. “My children would do well to share with the other living things of this world.”

Lucien sat next to her. As soon as he did, Carwyn and Makeda sat next to him. Tenzin, who’d been following silently, perched in the olive tree.

“Did you have any questions, daughter of Zhang?” Saba said.

“No.”

“And what will you report to your father?”

Tenzin floated down from the tree and sat across from Saba as the smoke rose between them.

“I will tell my father that the ancient sea is at rest once more,” Tenzin said. “And our mother still gives us life.”

“For now.” Saba’s eyes narrowed. “For now, daughter.”

“I understand.”

“Not yet.” Saba leaned against her rock. “But you will.”

Without another word, Tenzin took to the sky and disappeared into the night.

Lucien leaned back against the rock that grew behind him and pulled Makeda between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his cheek on the hair she’d tried to tame. The sea air had already teased it loose from the knot she’d attempted. Lucien fell silent and listened to the conversations of his mother and his friends. Of priests and queens. Spies and kings. Healers and assassins.

The earth was a living thing beneath him. He closed his eyes and felt the new roots his mother had planted steal down into the soil. He listened to the slow circulation of blood in his woman’s veins and the air that filled her lungs.

Lucien held his mate for hours on the earth his mother had made new. He held her, and he knew peace.

EPILOGUE

Northern California

“This is ridiculous.”

Makeda turned to see Natalie standing in the doorway. Makeda flew back and plastered herself against the back wall of the lab.

“What are you doing?”

Natalie shrugged and pulled Baojia into the room. “See? I told you.”

“It wasn’t me. I told you, Mak was the one who—”

“She is not supposed to be in here!” Makeda pointed accusingly at Natalie. The very human, still-somewhat-appetizing Natalie. “What are you thinking, Baojia?”

“I’m thinking that you’re going to be fine,” Baojia said. “You’re ten months old and you haven’t had a single incident of losing control. If you weren’t a vampire, I’d say you’re inhuman.” He frowned. “But you are a vampire, so that’s an obvious statement.”

Natalie squinted. “What are you talking about?”

“It made more sense in my head.” He turned on his heel and left. “I’ll go get the kids.”

Makeda’s heart took off at a gallop. “No!”

“Calm down,” Natalie said, stepping farther into the room. “He’s not going to bring them here. We wouldn’t freak you out that much.”

She banged her fist on the lab table and made a note to smooth the stainless steel out after Natalie had left. “You are not supposed to be here. I told you twelve months.”

“You are paranoid. You’ve been locked in this lab for six months. Ruben and Baojia say you haven’t had a single slipup.” Natalie stepped closer. “Besides, it’s you. I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t. Because right now you smell like dinner.”

Natalie scrunched up her face. “Be honest. Is it the ‘give me that burger now or I’ll cut you’ kind of hungry, or a ‘hmm, is someone barbecuing?’ kind of hungry?”