Page 66 of The Crown of Moonlight
Partly from necessity and partly to help smooth the tension, I remove Oran’s Veilstone ring from my finger.
“We were going to experiment with your magic tonight,” I remind Flora.“And test the way you’ve been diverting it from the Veilstones—”
She looks up, her expression panicked.“No—You mean I was stealing magic from you?I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I’m not accusing you.”I shake my head.“But since you’re getting stronger, it makes sense for us to see what else you can do.We need to understand how closely your powers mirror Sioraiabilities.”
Her hands are so small that the ring is too big for her thumb, much less her fingers.She folds her fist around it.“Does it matter where I put it?”
“If we’re right, you’ve been drawing on it even when you weren’t the one wearing it.”
She tucks it between her breasts and laces her bodice tight.I drag my eyes away, feeling as callow as a half-grown cub.
We ride out as the last of the sun fades, keeping to the birch woods as long as we can.A last few glints of gold and red still gleam on the dark water cradled by the shadowed hills.
The low knoll at the head of Loch Seil is too familiar, its memories tainted by trampled banners, defeat, and broken promises.
I pull Bramble to a halt, and Flora stops a few steps ahead, looking back at me with her eyebrows raised.
“This is where we planted the Sun King’s banner,” I say, “and the chiefs of the clans who rose for us came to take their oaths.”
“My father was there.He wanted to hear what the rebel had to say.”
I hate the dismissive tone she uses.“He has a name.”
“One that his followers use with a title he hasn’t earned in front of it.He’s king of nothing yet.”
“Vheara has to be stopped, regardless.”
“I won’t argue that.”Flora’s eyes are as hard as flint.“But we’d have had a better chance of stopping her before so many lives were squandered at the altar of another pretender with a pretty flag.”
My oathbands warn me that’s another dangerous topic.I take a breath and steer the subject in a slightly different—but no less painful—direction.I can’t avoid the truth.
“Vheara will consider both Bhoradail House and Gleannadail to be targets for retribution for their owners’ part in the war.It’s probably best to avoid passing near them.”
“We’ll need to avoid everyone—regardless of who they fought for.For their safety as well as ours.All the Domhnalls in Ehrugael rose for your king—”
“And I don’t want them dying for it.”The words come out more forcefully than I’d meant to.My cheeks heat, and Flora studies me with those calm eyes that see too much.
“There are no settlements on the eastern route along Loch Seil until we reach the southern tip,” she says.“It won’t be travelled much this time of year.”
She watches me as though she expects me—dares me—to argue, and the wind blows back the plaid she wears wrapped around her shoulders.She’s magnificent, and the risks I’m taking with her suddenly kick me in the chest.I’m gambling with her life and so much more.
She shouldn’t be here.Not with me.
“If you show me where to find the track, I can follow it on my own,” I say.“Regardless of settlements, you’ve seen the watchfires.We’re getting to the most dangerous part of the journey.”
She wheels Eira around, her hair whipping like a battle flag as she halts beside me.The mare shakes her head in protest, making the bridle jingle.
“You think I’d give up now?”Flora asks.“After what the Butcher did at Aknacaery, I’m not leaving you until you are through the doorway, and I can assure myself that you’ll be returning with an army at your back.I’ve lost my whole family—as have too many others.Killing Vheara and the Butcher is the only way to redeem the suffering, and the schedule hasn’t changed.If you want to reach Muilean by Beltane Eve, you can’t afford to waste time getting lost.”
She doesn’t wait for me to reply.Instead, she nudges Eira into a canter and leaves me to follow.
As much as I wish she was wrong, the Riders and I travelled by boat from Muilean after we arrived.The route overland is unfamiliar, and with only five days left to reach the doorway, I don’t have time to make mistakes.If she accepts the risks, I have to let her.
Flora’s pale mare flies like a wraith through the dusk as I chase her, and perhaps I’m lying to myself when I force myself to accept Flora’s choice.I don’t have the right to set boundaries for her.
I can only hope she doesn’t end up regretting that as well.Hope is a stubborn beast and slow to die.
