“I want to go with Papa,” the child begged, looking between his parents.
Manannán hoisted him up onto his hip. “You are too young, my boy, but one day soon.”
The three of them made their way back up the beach, walking straight toward me. My grip tightened on Louisa’s hand; surely, they would see me or hear my hammering heart.
They moved closer, and I pulled every part of my body in, but the woman’s eyes were fixed on the colorful houses behind me, and the young boy skipped alongside her. Only Manannán turned, his face tilting ever so slightly in my direction, a quizzical expression passing through his olive eyes, but then it was gone. He walked on with his family as the beach dissolved into shadow and the dim back room of the bookstore swam back into view.
I clutched my chest, my breath coming in ragged bursts. There was sweat on my upper lip.
“What did you see?” Louisa’s brow was furrowed, her tone grave.
“I saw Manannán, but he wasn’t in Taranis’s body, and he wasn’t the God of the Dead... he was just a man.” My eyes filled with tears when I thought about the scene I had witnessed, and I didn’t know why.
“I think you saw Manannánbeforehe became God of the Drowned.” Louisa ran a hand through her silvery hair as she surveyed me.
“My elbow—it was on the history book,” I gasped as the Minoan frescoes on the page swam into focus, pulling my vision back with them.
“A vision is progress.” Louisa blew out a breath. “You still have a long way to go before you’re ready to wield even a spark of magic, but with only two weeks until you leave for the Kingdom of Thálassa, we’ll begin your magic-wielding tomorrow after combat.”
I nodded, sniffing back my tears and stifling a yawn. The vision had exhausted me.
“And Morgana,”—Louisa’s gaze burned through me—“if you hurt my son with those wild powers of yours, you will break my heart.”
I scrunched my nose in confusion. “Aranare’s going to train me in magic-wielding? I thought you were.”
“My son is more qualified in that department than I am, you’ll see.” Louisa smiled.
“I won’t hurt him. I promise.” I nodded, meeting her gaze, but a cold knot formed in my stomach.
Night had fallen when I arrived back at Granddad’s little whitewashed house.
Every day since I’d returned from the depths, I’d followed the same pattern. I’d rise before dawn, pull on gloves and a jacket, and trudge up the hill to meet Aranare. After that, I’d visit Louisa in the bookstore; sometimes I would stay on after the lesson, helping shelve books to earn some money. Then I’d spend whatever time I had left taking care of Granddad. The exhaustion suited me. I welcomed it. Because most days, I was too tired to think about everything that had happened.
Granddad was in the living room reading the paper when I stalked past on my way to the shower. He was better now—not the husk of a man I’d first met—and the thought of that made me smile.
“Your mom called... again,” he grumbled, rustling the pages with an exasperated sigh.
“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” I promised, continuing down the hall as my throat tightened.
I hadn’t spoken to my mother since learning of my father’s death. She’d tried calling countless times, but I avoided her. Between the time difference, my hours beneath the sea, and training, it was easy. Granddad was tired of reassuring her, and I couldn’t blame him.
The steaming shower soothed my sore muscles, droplets cascading over my skin as I scrunched my eyes shut and let the heat wash over me. Thoughts of Finn crept in, but I shoved them into the void I’d carved inside myself, refusing to remember the feel of his hands or how they’d made me burn.
After my shower, I padded upstairs and slipped into warm pajamas. Through the small square window, the moon glowed, thin, barely a sliver behind the clouds. Soon it would begin to swell again, growing full. And when it did, it would be time for me to leave. The thought made me wrap my arms around myself.
I meant to head back to the kitchen to have dinner with Granddad, but the moment I collapsed onto the bed, sleep claimed me.
3
Morgana
The next day was bitterly cold, and an icy wind tore across the island, making training even more horrible, but we persevered.
We circled each other on the cliff face until my gloved fingers were stiff and my cheeks and nose flushed pink. I hadn’t thought my muscles could ache more than they had yesterday, but I’d been wrong.
After hours of clashing dummy swords and drilling new maneuvers, the rain came, frustrating spit-like shards of ice on my skin. Still, Aranare pressed me to continue, even as my teeth chattered and my lips turned blue.
At last, when my body couldn’t take another second, he lowered his wooden sword. I collapsed onto the cold grass with a groan, only to spring back up as its chill leached through my sweatpants.
