Page 89 of The Crown of Moonlight
With as much dignity as I can muster, I cross the hill to the stream where we watered the horses.It’s only after I round the bend out of sight that I give in to the shudders that rattle my teeth.
Leaning back against the overhanging cliff above the bathing pool, I take deep, gulping breaths.Lorcan has made it clear I’ll need to watch my back.The Riders may be oathbound to make sure I reach Muilean, but if it will save Chyr’s life, that’s an oath Lorcan, at least, is willing to break.
That moment when the soldier lit the beacon on the hill and smiled, the moment the pain first seared my shoulder, fury filled me just as it does now.But it wasn’t my fury alone.The land itself was angry.Magic rose within me to answer then, and the wind has risen in response to my anger now.
Gusts beat at the cliff and sweep through the yellow furze.Wind drowns out the sound of the stream tumbling to the rocks below.
I feel the wind’s fury, the crushed furze, and the battered stone.They match the way every part of me is being pummelled.
The thought makes me pause, and for the first time, the connection makes sense.I don’t understand the Crown of Flame yet, but here beneath the cliff, listening to the wind and water, I finallyfeelhow the land and I connect.
That’s what it means to wear the Crown of Vines.
Alba Scoria didn’t choose me because I deserve it.She chose me because I’m needed—because I share her fury and her grief.
Vheara and these Evers are causing more damage than Fionn ever did, and I can’t defeat them.I can’t even protect myself from the Riders.
But I am not alone.If the gods believe I have the strength within me to make a difference, then there must be a solution.I need to think harder and use every tool that I’ve been given.
Letting out a slow breath, I try to still my mind.I don’t reach for the wind—I don’t reach for any magic at all—but the air begins to calm.I let my mind drift, trying not to control my thoughts.
The stream slows, too, into a gentler burbling over the rocks, down into the pool, and then cascading down again.The water is clear in the way it can be only when it’s icy cold, but the rock near the edge has been soaking up heat since the rain stopped earlier.I let my feet drift towards it.
Lorcan’s energy is a spot of heat by the cavern mouth, well out of sight.Deciding to ignore him, I drop the plaid from my shoulders onto the dry ferns on the bank.Seated on the rock, I remove my boots, shift, and stockings.
Shadow crawls forward to sit beside me, while Shade turns his back and flops to the ground, watching the direction of the cavern.
“Tell me if anyone comes,” I tell them, and I wonder how much they understand.
I gasp as the water chills my naked skin.The pool is only three feet deep, but that’s enough to let me float on my back and soak in the sun’s warmth.Submerged in the water, the world is quiet again.
Until now, I’ve fought for every drop of magic.Reached for it, torn it from the earth and sky, pushed it to do my bidding.
The Riders have limitations, the same way I do when I force magic to obey me.I pay for it in pain, but is that an Ever trait?The Riders haven’t thought to take the Veilstone away from me—not yet.Most likely, one of them will.
I think back to the moment when I first reached into the cloud above the signal fire and felt the droplets of water forming, back to the moment in this same pool earlier when I felt the water wanting me to understand it.
Instead of using my magic to control it, I let myself sink into it instead, savouring how it feels, how the droplets huddle together and drift as one.Acknowledging the darker, cooler water flowing beneath the surface, I concentrate on the warmth near the surface and bask in the light that pours magic from the sun into the earth.Then I stop moving the water with my hands and simply relax and let it flow around me in a circle.
The whole pool becomes a gentle eddy.I’m not pulling it in; I’m simply increasing its own momentum, using what it already is.The magic never enters my body at all.
A shadow falls across my face.Releasing the water’s magic, I crouch deeper in the water, hands crossed over my chest.Then I whip around to face the bank.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”Chyr has his back turned.“Lorcan was worried you’ve been gone a long time.”His voice sounds thick and hoarse.
A boot scuffs against stone, and I can’t tell exactly where.Shadow’s ear flicks, then settles.Chyr’s breath roughens.Mine does, too.
I want to test what I feel about him, examine my conflicting emotions the way I studied the warmth and the chill of the water.
“I was thinking,” I say.“I’ll come back inside.”
“No need, but I’ll sit just around the corner to be sure you’re safe.”
I picture Chyr as the young man left alone to face his father’s betrayal, people whispering, judging him, his own uncle trapping him with rings of oaths.No one to comfort him.
“Do you want to come in?”I ask.
His shoulders go still, as if he’s stopped breathing.“After you’re done?”
