Page 80 of The Crown of Moonlight
“The ritual isn’t finished, though, is it?”I ask.Even as I say the words, I realise it will never finish.
It can’t.
Vheara has no intention of giving up the throne of Alba Scoria, and if Chyr hasn’t been able to defeat her, then I certainly stand no chance.Even if I did, wouldn’t Chyr’s oaths force him to take it from me?
Can he let me become the Cailleach Queen?
Whatever jest the gods are playing will tear both of us to pieces.I’m not naïve enough to believe it has anything to do with deserving to wear a crown.I’m no more than a pawn in a game between the gods and Tirnaeve.
Well, nothing says I have to play along.
“Cóirneach, Cóirneach, Cóirneach.”My voice is a rasp, my body aching with the plea.“Take it back, Chyr.Reverse the crowns and the Hunt.I’ll get you to Muilean and you can win the war.”
“What are you doing, Flora?”
“If I say your true name three times, you can’t deny me what I want.True or false?”
“Mostly true—”
“Cóirneach, Cóirneach, Cóirneach.”My voice is a rasp, my body aching with the plea.“Take it back, Chyr.Forget the crowns and everything that’s happened.I’ll go home, and you’ll never have to think of me.”
“I can’t,” Chyr says, and the pained tightness in his face pierces straight through me.“You may hate me for this even more than for all the other ways I’ve failed you, but even my true name can’t undo the will of the gods and the oaths that bind me.”
I twist away, trying to wrench free of his grasp.“Let me go.”
“I have to take you to Muilean, Fierceness.”
“You don’t.”
“Neither of us has a choice.”
“Have we ever had one?”
His grip on my arms is gentle.That makes it no less impossible to escape.And the other three Riders are still mounted on their horses, waiting at the edge of the bog.
A bit farther on, staying well clear of the Riders, Shadow and Shade are pacing back and forth along the water’s edge.
Even they must have known.
I shove down the swell of panic that seals my throat, my heart running away as I try to think.But I can’t escape.Not now.I’ve no magic, no strength, no plan.
That doesn’t mean I’m giving up.Therewillbe a time for me to get away.All I have to do is wait for an opportunity.
When I speak, I manage to sound quite calm.“Dawn will be here soon.We need to get the horses out of the bog safely, and we’ll have to find shelter before daybreak.Otherwise, no one will reach Muilean.”
None of that’s a lie.
“Do you promise me that you won’t run?”Chyr asks, his eyes so intent that I feel them like a physical touch.
“I swear I’ll do exactly what I said,” I answer.Which isn’t what he asked, but let him puzzle out what it means.
He releases me, and I retrace my steps to Bramble.Chyr must have given me some of his magic while he held me, because I don’t feel nearly as empty as I did before.While it feels like the Hunt and the crowning must have taken years, it can’t have been more than an hour.The bog and the position of the moon, the horses, and even the Riders all look much the same.
Most of the solid footing that my magic built through the bog is still passable, and I use as little magic as I can to help us all return to the drovers’ track.Not because I feel depleted, but my magic feels strange.Unfamiliar.
The three other Riders say nothing when I reach them.But they stare at the Crown of Flame with expressions somewhere between disbelief and awe until I raise the plaid from around my shoulders and drape it low over my forehead to hide the mark.
The pair of swaggering bastards—the blond with the glowing runes along his jaw and throat, and the dark-haired one with the lazy drawl and the vicious humour—don’t look at me at all after that.The tall one with the russet hair seems kinder, and his smile looks genuine.
