“We are living with a festering wound. How many generations must pass until our islands are completely overcome by the dead? Until the seas cannot be sailed for spirits clogging the waters, and every last resource dried up as we all go mad?”
My handful of petals tears in two, leaving a jagged edge along the marsh marigold’s center. Dark veins rip through the cheery yellow, and I can’t help it.
I look up.
Ríona Kiara is staring right at me. Unlike my father, she does not need to stand to command attention. She is like her cousin in that way.
Like my brother Conal.
“The lands must heal. The deadmustmove on. Until that changes, there is no hope for true legacy.” Ríona Kiara lifts her chin. “Not unless we steal it out of fate’s hands.”
I drop the flower. Stare at its mangled remains.
She’s talking about the Isle of Lost Souls. About her cousin, and the quest.
It’s a myth—alie—but one I could believe is true by the mere power of her words.
But Da was right; it’s not worth risking more death for the sake of a fairy tale. Is it? I’m the only person I’ve ever known to survive touching a soulstone—and that is only due to his ingenuity with the caipín baís and his apothecary’s ink.
Da is the only reason I am alive.
So I will wed Rí Maccus, and pinch my mouth until it bleeds,lock my magic—myself—away, and never again fall prey to so much sensation that it lands me in the arms of a Wolf.
Even if kissing him was like touching the sky after a lifetime leashed to the ground.
…I will steal his rest, and he will rob me of mine…
I shut my eyes tight. Release the petals in an ugly clump onto my lap, then bury my stained fingertips in the skirts below.
Better to have fled the wild last night than feel its loss.
Better never to have wandered at all.
They’re all arguing now, the glittering Ring of Stars. Callen doesn’t see me anymore, glaring at Tadhg while ancient Etain taps her collarbone to calm her blood. Kiara and Aisling join hands behind the chairs, Kiara’s head high as Da sneers from across the awning, his fist white-knuckled at his side.
And Maccus laughs. Like this is a game he’s already won.
We are going to break each other.
I don’t realize I’ve stood until I’m surrounded by a million flecks of sunlight. The basket lies on its side by my feet, petals clinging to my veil and skirts, dragging like fingertips across my cheeks.
All eyes beneath the awning fall to me, and my face burns as I kneel in a fruitless effort to gather up the mess.
“I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking.”
But I was. Because I can’t do this.
I can’t benothing.
Ríona Kiara would not lay her stake with the Wolf unless she believed he could do it. She would not campaign to the other kings and queens unless she truly thought he would find the Isle of Lost Souls—and why not?Heis the reason Kiara holds so much power now. He’s found everything he’s ever sought—creatures we thought extinct, plants only rumored to exist, clever currentsbetween every island, and a friend in every port. The Wolf could charm even a goddess back to life, if the songs ring true.
He looked into my eyes last night as though he recognized them. As if he’s been waiting for me all along.
And I am already broken. What is there left to fear?
“Saoirse!” Da’s voice stops my hands short, petals falling between my fingers like rain. “A servant will take care of that. You should rest before the festivities tonight.”
I swallow as something forms in my mind—something dangerous. The path leading away from these pavilions splits just at the edge of the woods. One runs toward the beaches and docks, where my father’s guards await, ready to escort me to the cabin on his ship. The other leads into the woods.