They dipped their chins in assent.
“And see if they can make me a cuff in leather as well for when I walk upon the land.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The guards leftthe room.
I lifted my wrist to my face once more. The veins were still faint, delicate, and barely visible, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Soon, they’d begin to snake up my arm, and I’d need the cuffs to hide them.
I lowered my fist and cracked my knuckles, exhaling. I had to focus on the task ahead, on the bargains I had struck.
Promises sealed in ink and blood are not to be broken.
The heart-shaped tattoo on my chest throbbed with the weight of that truth, and as it did, shadows slithered from the walls, curling around my wrist and caressing the dark veins that had begun to spread there.
“Yougave me the Shadow?” I hissed at the swirling darkness, my fingers flexing as it curled up my arms.
Think of it as an extra incentive to keep your promise, little prince.
The voice—ancient, cold as the ocean’s deepest trench—coiled through my mind. Then, slowly, the shadows receded, slinking back into the labyrinthine dungeons where they had waited for millennia.
1
Morgana
Aranare stood with his back to the ocean, a wooden blade slung across his shoulder, as I trudged across the cliff face, trying to ignore the relentless ache in my muscles.
Louisa had divided my training into three parts: combat with Aranare, mind work and ancient history with her, and magic-wielding, but I wasn’t allowed to start that until I had mastered my mind.
I rolled my eyes, thinking of how often I’d failed to quiet my thoughts for more than a few minutes during Louisa’s lessons.
The morning wind whipped across the cliffside, tugging at my hair and sweatshirt as waves hissed against the jagged rocks far below. The dark and endless sea stretched beyond the edge of the grassy bluff, its salty scent carrying reminders of what I knew lay deep beneath it. Nearby, weatherworn Celtic gravestones jutted from the earth, cradling strands of early morning mist.
Whenever a storm arose, I wondered if Manannán was gathering more Drowned to swell his ranks, but we hadn’t experienced unearthly galessince I’d broken the wheel. Still, I knew he was somewhere beneath the waves, assembling his forces and preparing to strike against the Mer.
The morning wind tousled Aranare’s dark hair, his parka zipped up to his chin, but when I reached him, a grin split his face. “Let’s see if you’re ready to use that wee dagger you love so much.”
I’d brought my blade up from the ocean’s depths. Like my fur coat, the sea had allowed me to carry it onto land. I’d shown up to our first combat lesson proudly clutching it, only for Aranare to laugh himself hoarse. “You need to learn to walk before you can run, lass,” he’d choked out between chuckles.
My dummy sword was nowhere near as fancy as his. I picked up the piece of thick driftwood I now kept up here for training and got into position.
As it turned out, Aranare had a passion for combat and usually spent his mornings working up a sweat in his uncle’s gym, making him the perfect sparring partner.
He lunged, and I dodged, tuning out the protests of my sore limbs. He swung again—wood meeting wood—and our gazes locked. Suddenly, I was no longer looking into Aranare’s golden eyes; they became onyx as I thought of Finn.
I ducked, pivoted, and struck. My movements had sharpened after weeks of relentless training, with each strike serving as an outlet for my thoughts.
There was an ancient prophecy that could stop the impending war—one tied to me, to my blood. But its second half had been lost.
Finn’s father, King Neptunus, had had my grandmother killed, believing her blood was the key. She’d known it wouldn’t work but said nothing. She died to protect me.
Now, Finn and his father had a lead on the missing piece of theprophecy, and I had to go with him—to pretend to trust him—if I wanted to learn the truth.
Aranare repositioned his stance, and I struck again—harder, faster—and again, my thoughts flashing with every blow.
Had Finn killed my grandmother?
Had he done his father’s bidding, then set his sights on me?
I circled Aranare on the cliff top, fists clenched around my driftwood stick. Our weapons clashed, and I pushed him back, using my thoughts as my fuel.
