“All right. But if you’re hurting, love—”
“I’m not.” Not an intolerable amount, anyway. The pressure is building, but it will break with a vision. Iknowit.
I only hope that I don’t break with it.
Glancing over my shoulder, I search for that kernel of pride in Faolan’s face: the one I gleaned after climbing the Teeth. It’s stifled by an unfamiliar emotion clouding his features so they’re impossible to read. My grip on the ground slackens as I search his eyes for daring or mischief—belief.
“Tell me I can do this.”
He blinks. Then his face softens as he cradles my neck, leaving me gasping as Ifeelhis belief flood me at once.
“Youcando this, Saoirse. I only wish…” Faolan growls and buries his mouth against my throat, hand stroking my jaw once.“The gods are all bastards. You should never have had to hold this burden alone.”
Yet that is all I’ve ever done.
“Let me go.” My voice wavers as I lay my hands on my knees, palms up, and nudge his cheek once with mine. He fights me for a moment, then slowly releases his touch. The woad wolf at my wrist gleams in the silver light as I shift back, deep blue lines rippling as though she’s preparing to howl. It’s a comfort and a stroke of courage at once—a reminder that I belong to more than myself now.
A wolf is never really alone.
Tremors start at the back of my skull and glide down my spine, filling each groove of flesh until they nestle in my palms and tug them forward. Like I am a child again, and the magic is my nursemaid. I open my eyes enough to see my fingers outstretched to the ruined image’s feet, and understanding settles in my gut.
I have never asked for the magic to come. Never wanted to know as much as it reveals.
I don’t truly want it now.
But if this is the only way to understand—to commune with the sea, as the singer said—then I need to start here. Letting it in. Studying it, so that someday, I can wrench it free of my soul altogether.
Assuming the pain does not paralyze me first.
“If I—” My throat convulses around a swallow. “If I collapse…”
“I’ll be here to catch you.” Faolan drops to one knee beside me, gloved hand flat on the ground as he trains his gaze on my tense shoulders. “Whatever comes, I won’t leave you here alone.”
“Please don’t.”
I glance at the Wolf once more, then lower my hands to the goddess’s feet.
Thirty-One
I am endless. Savage and serene. There does not exist a single life untouched by my waters—my lifeblood fills their veins, leaving and joining in endless cycles of knowing.
Galaxies pass beneath my lids. My eyes witness all.
And then I am myself again—Saoirse. Only Saoirse.
Or at least I think I am.
I stand on legs that ought to be shaking, but when I glance down I can see right away they are not my own. Skirts sweep around their long, agile shapes in gauzy layers that mimic morning mist, roping up over breasts and arms and skin paler than mine’s ever been—pale enough to have rarely touched the light.
“Is that all you have to say?”
Midnight hair whips across my shoulder as I turn to the speaker, my face dropping into a cold scowl. The sort Saoirse has never managed before. Eamon—god of earthquakes, mountains, and raging storms—stands before me while lightning crackles through his silver hair.
“It is all I have seen in the depths of the Knowing Sea.” My lipsmove, but the voice that flows from them is resonant and unshakable. Nothing like mine.
“You’d better read the stars upon the waves again, little sister.” Clodagh, goddess of judgment, steps forward with a face lined with concern. “This vision cannot be.”
“I’ve seen it thrice. The Knowing Sea does not lie.” An inexplicable wave of sorrow crashes through me, but I swallow it down and raise my chin higher. “Our time is coming to an end.”