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Her mouth tastes sweet as she kisses me back.Groaning, I pull her hips tight against me, holding her there even once I lift my head and look into those quicksilver, moonlit eyes.They still hold a few remnants of the deep calm grey that belonged to the Flora she used to be.

“Don’t ever give up,” I say.

She blinks and shakes her head.“But there’s no way out.”

“You found an answer to Sean’s claim of illicit magic.”

“Did I?”She arches an eyebrow at me.“The way I lost control of the water this morning, I’m not sure he was wrong.”

A cold lump forms in my chest at the idea that she can doubt herself to that extent.“You lost focus for an instant.Your magic is a gift from forces more powerful than any of us, and it isn’t given lightly.The gods know who you are better than you do.”

She dips her head, evading the hold I have on her eyes as she tries to escape the truth.“I’d like to believe you’re right.”

“Then think.What did you do when you needed an argument against Sean?”

She looks back up at me, her focus sharpening.“I asked Cathal for the text of the Compact.”

Turning without waiting for me to answer, she staggers forward to where Cathal and Fergal stand watching the sails of a distant cutter.Cathal frowns as she stops beside him.

“Tell me exactly what the Compact says about the final crown,” she says.

Cathal’s eyes narrow above his high-bridged nose.A vein throbs under the brown skin at his temple.

“Tell her, Cathal.”Fergal offers Flora one of his shy smiles of encouragement.He’s ready to trust her.He’s always been able to see the truth in people more easily than the others can.

Cathal cuts him a glare, but he activates the power rune above his ear that enhances his memory.“There are several.”

“Just answer the damn question, you pompous ass,” Fergal snaps.

“The first one is this,” Cathal says, looking grim.“The Maiden must wear three crowns to become the Cailleach Queen: the Land shall crown her in vines if she proves herself worthy; the Father of Light shall crown her in flame if she is true; and if she takes a Rider to hunt beside her and they sacrifice their blood upon the Altar of the Moon, the Great Mother shall crown her in the light of rebirth.”

“What if she refuses?”Flora asks.

Cathal sighs.“Once marked with the Crescent Moon, the Maiden may refuse the Hunt or fail the test, whereupon the land will release her and choose another.Once she bears the Crown of Vines, she must wear the Crown of Moonlight before the moon sets on the Night of Rebirth.If she fails, her life will expire with the rising of the Sun.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”Fergal asks.

Flora’s lips twitch into a mirthless smile.“I suspect that’s the way your High King wanted it.But one of my less-than-brilliant ancestors fell for it.”

“Careful,” Cathal says.“That’s perilously close to treason.”

In the distance, the cutter changes course, coming towards us as it tacks against the wind.

“Cathal, stop stalling,” I snap at him.“What else does the document say?”

Flora nods.“What happens if the Rider I choose refuses or fails to make the sacrifice?”

Cathal’s eyes simmer with resentment.“Neither of you understands how legal documents work—”

My hand is wrapped around Cathal’s throat before he has time to flinch.The pressure is light, barely there, but it’s a warning that’s long past due.

“Cathal, I have no patience left for games.”

“All right, yes,” Cathal says, then he rubs his throat and glares at me when I release him.“Whosoever among the Riders forsakes the Compact, forswears their Oaths, breaks a Law of Tirnaeve, or refuses a Lawful Order given by the High King, the Assembly, or the Master of the Anvar’thaine, shall be banished to the Gloaming for the duration of their lifetime.”

Flora’s teeth dig into her lower lip.“What if,” she asks, “upholding their oaths would mean forsaking the Compact or refusing a Lawful Order?”

The ship heaves and groans as a wave hits us broadside, and an instant later the lookout shouts, “Queen’s cutter approaching starboard and sailing fast!”