I have no trouble focusing on the pain. I stare down at the cardboard and try to sense that part of myself I’m just getting to know, the spark of heat in my blood.
The sting pulses over my arm and up my shoulder, and something stirs. My belly is growing warm, and my chest is heating.
“I feel it,” I say.
“Now attempt to push it outward, like the sensation is your weapon, your punch at something trying to hurt you.”
I stare at the cardboard and try to get a grip on the stirring. I breathe in slowly through my nose. And I shove outward.
The energy surges, growing hotter in a nanosecond. My hand coats with orange light, small tongues of fire licking over the wound as it closes. But there’s a sudden pushback, the heat dulling as quickly as it flared.
The cardboard smokes at my feet.
“Good,” Faelan says. “I felt the block, did you?”
“I think so.”
“It’s working.”
I release a shaky breath and touch the medallion, tracing the amber-encased moth with my fingertip. “It worked.” I can’t help the huge smile that fills my face as relief washes over me. “Oh my God, that was awesome. I felt it. Like, really felt the thing inside me that time.”
“Good, Sage,” he says, answering with his own smile.
The sight of his dimple sends tingles down my legs. “I’m going to be able to control it,” I say, giddy.
“You are.”
The realization of what that means hits me. I won’t hurt anyone now. I’m free. I could actually leave if I wanted to.
But as soon as the thought rises, my excitement twists, turning sour. And where will you go, Sage? You’ll be totally alone out there.
“You all right?” Faelan asks, bringing me back.
“Yeah, totally,” I lie. “I’m super relieved.”
“Well, let’s go talk to Marius,” he says, studying me like he knows I’m faking my smile now. “We still have a lot of ground to cover.”
THIRTY-FOUR
FAELAN
Sage and I walk down the hall to the red door. It opens before my knuckles hit the wood to knock. Gerald, Marius’s selkie assistant, is there, looking at us with his white eyes. “The master will be out in a moment. Please wait for him there.” He points to the two seats facing the desk.
When Sage sits, she grips the arms of the chair, her knuckles turning white. I’m not sure why she’s so tense. It seemed like she was relieved for a second about the torque—for good reason. Her energy being contained will help her have a smoother transition. And it’ll allow for a clearer head when she chooses her House. She’ll still have to deal with the memories, but I’m hoping Marius will have a solution to that, maybe speeding up the process so they’ll fade faster.
It doesn’t take long for Marius to emerge from his feeding room. His chest is bare, a towel is wrapped around his neck, and there are drops of water falling from his damp silver hair. The scars from his years as a child slave in Rome are apparent. I glance at Sage to see how she reacts. She’s not really looking at him, though. She’s biting her nails and staring past him at the feeding room door where Marius’s selkie concubine, Paris, can be seen climbing from the feeding tub, naked.
My eyes move to the floor, and my stomach clenches as I realize Sage will think all the wrong things about what she’s seeing.
Marius shuts the door and walks over to us, drying his hair with the towel. “What’s the urgency?” he asks. “I was planning to come to the house in an hour or so. Is everything all right?”
I stand. “Yes, sir—I mean, we’re not sure. Sorry to interrupt you. I just wasn’t sure this was something that I should wait on.”
“Sit, Faelan.” He goes to the other side of the desk, pulls a white cotton T-shirt from a drawer, and puts it on. He folds his towel and sets it aside. “Did something happen last night after I left?”
“In a way,” I say. Sage is silent as Marius focuses on her. “It’s come to my attention,” I continue, deciding to get right to the point, “that she’s having dreams of Queen Lily. Blood memories, to be exact.”
Marius looks between us. “I don’t understand. How do you know this?”
“We did a dream spell,” I say. “And I went in with her as the tether.”
His features tense. “What pushed you to do such a thing?”
I hesitate.
Sage breaks in. “I was feeling connected to Kieran, like I knew him or something, and it scared me. Faelan was trying to help me figure out why.”
“And when we went into the dream under the spell,” I say, “it was clear that Sage was dreaming as Lily. Like a blood memory.”
“Blood memories show themselves when the person is awake,” Marius says, his eyes narrowing. “Not asleep. This is very odd, Faelan. You know how these things work. We would’ve been aware if such an invasion of her mind had happened. We’ve watched her. No druid has had access to her. And even so, the ceremony takes hours, and the memories don’t hide themselves.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out how to explain it better. “But she has knowledge of Lailoken, the wise man. And she knows about the King of Ravens and how he fed, how he looked. How would she know those things?”
“It was foolish to follow this.” He shakes his head, frustrated. “This could confuse matters even more.”
“But, sir, something was wrong. She’d had a slipup with her energy in her sleep, even with her torque on. At one point, she wouldn’t heal. And then this strong connection she was feeling with Kieran . . . we were trying to figure out what was going on.”
“It seems a lot has gone on,” Marius says.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have bothered you with this either, but I’m not sure how to help her now.”
“Don’t apologize, Faelan,” he says. He turns his attention to Sage. “Come here and stand in front of me, child.”
She glances at me, then stands and moves around the desk to the other side, in front of Marius.
He examines her face, focusing on her eyes. “Your energy seems very clear. I can sense the torque working with—” His eyes fall to her torque, and he steps back. “Where did you get that, child?” His head turns to me as he points at the medallion. “Where did this come from, Faelan?”
I didn’t expect him to react so strongly to the ancient torque. If anything, I thought he’d be relieved that it was found after it went missing so long ago. But now my nerves turn raw at the anger in his eyes. I feel him begin to stir his energy in the air, my muscles twitching, my veins aching, as he manipulates the water around him—including inside me.
“It’s my fault that I’m wearing it,” Sage says, her tone worried, like she can sense Marius’s simmering rage. “Kieran gave it as his gift last night at the Introduction. Faelan had nothing to do with it.”
Marius turns his attention back to her. “And you placed it yourself? Take it off.”
I start to explain. “Sir—” But he waves his hand and a sharp sting fills my skin, my gut twisting with his manipulation. I grunt, hunching in pain and clutching my stomach.
Sage’s eyes widen and she steps back. “Don’t hurt him—”
“Take it off,” Marius repeats coldly.
Sage shakes her head, reaching up to clutch the medallion in her fist. “I can’t. Kieran put it on me,” she says, her voice shaking.
“Kieran?” Marius says through his teeth. He turns back to me. “You allowed the Prince of Shadows to place the most powerful torque in existence on the newblood he wishes to control, Faelan?”
“Faelan wasn’t there,” Sage says quickly. “I slipped away from him even though he told me to stay put. It was my fault. When he found me, I already had it on.”
Why would she lie? It doesn’t matter if I was there or not. I was meant to be watching everything, to be guarding. And I failed.
The tension of Marius’s power releases from my body, the pain fading a little.
He studies her. “You protect him with your lies,” he says, his voice softening. “You have loyalty, young one. This is good. I’m very relieved.” He moves to his desk and unlocks a hidden drawer underneath, then pulls out a small scroll. He glances at me. “I saw last night that you were becoming attached to this newblood, Faelan. But I was unsure about her. I see now that we may be able to trust her.”
He holds the scroll out to Sage in offering. Once she takes it, he continues, focusing on me again. “I knew Kieran and Mara had possession of the torque. Someone from the House of Morrígan stole it several hundred years ago, believing it belonged with their House. I suspected that it would emerge with the arrival of our young Sage—though I had no idea it would happen so quickly, which is why I was surprised to see it. But I knew Kieran would have made sure he was the one who placed it when the time came.” He looks at Sage. “He has designs on you, princess. He thinks their House can re-create the past, control all the cards in this. What are your thoughts about him?”
When she doesn’t respond, he adds, “You are afraid of your feelings, I see. And this is why you allowed Faelan into your dreams?”
She nods.
“The blood memories are causing a problem,” I say, trying to clarify. “Do you think Kieran is responsible for them being implanted?”
Marius shakes his head. “I doubt he’d have the foresight. Kieran knows a lot of details about the Bond between his brother and Queen Lily, and I’m sure he’s built it up in his head as his birthright to own Sage’s powers as the King of Ravens owned Lily’s. But it’s all fantasy. The boy is deluded.”
“What can we do about it, though?” I ask. I don’t want to ask the question roiling in my head: What if he wins her over? I can’t voice that concern in front of Sage and make her think I don’t have faith in her. But I know Kieran.
“There is a spell in the scroll that can help,” Marius says. “It will aid in the assimilation of the memories and allow for the implant—if there is one—to fade faster.”
“How long?” Sage asks.
“Months rather than years.”
She looks down, turning the small scroll in her fingers. I know she’s thinking of the dreams, of living all those moments of Lily’s struggle, the pain, the sorrow. And eventually the madness. Thinking she’ll be overwhelmed by it for months.
“I’ll check in by phone tonight,” Marius says. “I need updates every day, Faelan. This new revelation needs to be monitored. Keep her safe from it.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turns to Sage, reaching out to gently touch her slumped shoulder. “Don’t lose heart, young Sage. You have much to contribute to our world. You could find a home here with us, a family, someone to trust. If you wish.”
THIRTY-FIVE
SAGE
I really don’t want to go back to the Cottages. The closer we get, the harder it is to breathe.
I should be relaxing into the idea of finding a way out of this now. My problems are all solved: my power is contained, I won’t hurt anyone, the dreams will eventually be gone. Yes, I’ll have to deal with them for a while, but I can do that anywhere. There’s no reason to stay and be tortured by this crazy Emergence choice anymore—because how does a person choose their destiny in one week? That’s ridiculous.
And I could get free from it tomorrow if I wanted. Be back to depending on myself again. Simple.
But deep inside, I know that I won’t. I won’t leave this time. I won’t run.
The old me is seriously pissed, and confused. I can’t understand why I’m not willing to leave this behind all of a sudden.
“What’s going on, Sage?” Faelan asks as we leave the 10 freeway and merge onto PCH.
I’d like to know the answer to that myself. I watch the silver blue of the Pacific appear beside him and swallow the rock in my throat. We pass shops, beaches, houses, and I can’t find a way to say what I’m feeling.
“What, Sage?” Faelan asks again, his tone growing tense.
I shake my head. “Can we stop?”
“What?”
“The car.”
“Why?”
“Stop the car!” I snap, shocking myself. And him.
He steers the Audi to the side of the road, pulling off at a vista point and parking so we face the ocean. He turns off the engine. Then he watches me cautiously as several seconds of silence pass. When I can’t take it anymore, I open the door and get out, walking to the edge of the bluff and trying to get oxygen into my lungs. I gulp the sea air and swallow my rising tears.
The crunch of rocks and dirt underfoot sounds behind me.
The ocean rages below, and the salty mist clings to my skin as the breeze carries it past.
“I don’t want this,” I whisper, to the sea, to Faelan, to my goddess mother, wherever she is. “I don’t want to be this.”
Faelan stays quiet beside me, staring out at the water, the wind tousling his hair.
“I’ve been wanting to run away,” I confess. He doesn’t respond, so I add, “I was pretty much out of here as soon as I learned to get my powers under control.” Shame fills me, and I have no idea why.
Maybe because I’m a coward.
“Where do you plan to go?” he asks, surprising me.
I shrug.
“You know they’ll find you, right?” he says. “Next time it’ll be Kieran who takes you under his wing.” He turns from the water to face me. “Is that what you want?”
“No!” I say quickly.
“Then what do you want, Sage?”
I can only shake my head as my throat goes tight. Because I don’t know. What Marius said before we left his office hit me hard. My whole life all I’ve wanted is a home, peace, safety. I want to be able to trust someone.
But I don’t even think I’d know how to do that. How can I ever be sure it’s real?
Faelan touches my wrist, and I look down as his fingers slide over my palm and weave through mine. I stare at our joined hands, and everything inside me settles. I look back out at the water and take in a shaky breath. Release it.
Then I lean over, resting my head on his shoulder. Together we watch the ocean churn.
The sun is setting in bright orange and violet by the time we get back to the house. We part ways silently, Faelan going to his cottage, me to mine. We haven’t said anything more, but nothing needs to be said. Marius put the offer on the table, an offer for a family, for a home. Faelan echoed it in his own way. Now I just have to decide what to do with it.
I set the small scroll on the coffee table next to the one that Faelan gave me. And I notice something sitting beside the ring left from my morning cup of coffee. A black velvet bag.
I stare at it, not wanting to touch it. I know with sharp clarity why it’s there and who it’s from.
I shouldn’t know so definitively, but I do.
The bag is sitting on a black envelope with a silver seal. It’s tied with a satin strap, diamonds on the ends. I pull the envelope out from under it and turn the square over in my hands. The seal is pressed with a complex design of Celtic knotting, a bird at the center: a raven. I bend it and it makes a satisfying snap.
A silver ribbon spills out of the envelope, a large rusty key tied to the end. When I tug on it, the paper contents pull smoothly from the envelope. I study the key as I unfold the black paper; it looks Victorian, like something out of a Brontë novel. But then I swallow a gasp as I realize the paper’s not just paper. Small silhouettes of birds and trees and swirls are cut out in an intricate piece of artwork to create a frame coated in gold leaf.
At the center, in proud silver script, it says:
My Love,
A small token from the House of Morrígan: a villa in Spain, fully stocked and ready for your pleasure. The steward will contact you in a day or so with the paperwork. Whatever you choose for your future, it’s yours with our affection.
The sunrise is breathtaking over the vineyard.
Additionally, this bag att
ached carries a personal gift, a small token from me. I hope to have a chance to explain its meaning soon.
K.
My heartbeat thunders in my head. I pick up the velvet bag, pulling off the satin ties with shaking hands. Then I tip the sack over.
A smooth white figure tumbles out into my palm. A delicate milky-glass owl.
My throat tightens.
I touch the cool surface tentatively with the tip of my finger, almost expecting it to move, it looks so real. So like the owl in my dreams.
“Fionn,” I whisper, an ache filling my chest, missing him.
Missing a bird I’ve never known in real life.
It’s three inches tall, each speckled feather painted with intricate detail, a shadowed spot on the breast where the arrow struck. The head is tipped to the side, as if in curiosity. The large black eyes glitter knowingly.
It’s stunning. And I want to ask Kieran why, why would he give this to me? How does he know about my Fionn? No, not my Fionn. Lily’s Fionn.
But it’s no use. I felt the bird’s soft feathers; its talons gripped my gloved arm. I loved Fionn. Somewhere inside me, I loved him.
The memory rises of the king touching the bird’s still form, drawing it back from death. I watched his warrior form collapse into the snow, my heart stopping in terror. I sat beside his bed. I prayed for him, for help from the goddess. I gave myself to him. I gave everything.
And it was horrifyingly beautiful.
Something caresses my cheek, lifting me from sleep. It slides down my neck and makes a circle on my bare chest, a rush of remembered heat flowing through my bones.
I open my eyes slowly, almost afraid of what I’ll see when I face him again.
He’s lying beside me, playing with a white feather, turning it in his fingers, holding it up to the rising sunlight spilling through the casement. When he realizes I’m awake, he turns his head and a slow smile tips his mouth.
I blink at him, my pulse skipping as I look into those silver eyes, remembering what was woven between us in this bed.
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