"Yeah," I say.
Keira storms in like a force of nature, her fire-red hair catching the light from the windows.
Behind her, Octavian comes in, his eyes sweeping the room.
Then Declan, whose face is as firm as his arm around Lyra.
And finally, our mother.
May Killaney walks in last, her posture straight, her expression composed. She looks at me first, then at Zaria, and I can see the wheels turning behind her calm exterior.
I glance at Zaria, and the color has drained from her face. She stiffens beside me. I feel it in the way her hand tightens around mine, the way her breathing quickens just slightly.
"Hey," I say softly, squeezing her hand. "It's okay."
She doesn't look convinced.
I gesture to each person in turn, keeping my voice steady. "Zaria, this is Keira, Octavian, Declan, Lyra, and my mother, May."
Then I point to her. "Everyone, this is Zaria."
The silence stretches for a moment too long. Zaria winces as she tries to push herself upright against the pillows, her face tightening with pain. I reach out to help her, adjusting the pillows behind her back until she's propped up enough to face everyone without straining.
"When I was brought to the hospital," I explain, keeping my hand on hers, "I couldn't really hide you anymore. That, and Declan was there when I carried you out of the fire, so." I shrug, the movement pulling at my injured shoulder beneath the sling. "The jig is up, as they say."
Zaria's eyes dart from face to face, assessing.
"They know I'm..." she starts, her voice low.
"Cormac's daughter?" Declan cuts in, his tone flat. "Yeah. We know everything about you."
Zaria flinches like he struck her. I feel her hand tense in mine, and I'm about to say something when Keira beats me to it.
"Take it easy, Dec," she says, shooting him a look before turning her attention to Zaria. "To be honest, we were more pissed at Callum for hiding it."
Her green eyes swing to me, and now there's heat in them. "You don't hide things from family."
I hold up my good hand in surrender. "I know, I know. I'm sorry."
Keira raises an eyebrow at me. She wants to say more, but lets it go.
I turn back to Zaria, whose eyes are wide and uncertain.
"I told them everything," I say. "From how you were brought to me, to the ritual we attended, to..." I pause, searching for the right words. "To the time we spent together, to now."
She swallows hard, her gaze moving across the room again, taking in each of them.
Her lips part slightly, like she's about to say something, but nothing comes out. She takes a moment, and then speaks.
"I hope you don't hate me," Zaria says, and her voice cracks on the last word.
The vulnerability in it hits me somewhere deep in my chest. This is the woman who offered herself to me that first night, expecting to be used and discarded. The woman who knelt in submission because that's all she'd ever been taught. Who thought her life wasn't worth living, and now she's asking my family not to hate her.
My mother steps forward, and the room seems to hold its breath. She stops at the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in front of her.
"Hate you, dear?" she says, her tone gentle but firm. "Why would we? You risked your life to save me when you thought I was in danger. You helped us every step of the way to track down Cormac and reveal his sinister plans. Without you, we'd still be in the dark looking for clues. Also, you make my son happy." She glances at me briefly. "Or so he's told me."
Zaria's hand trembles in mine.
