Mum and Dad. He’d told his king and queen. His mates.
And now he’d told me.
He possessed power to rival the gods, and he’d never abused it. Instead, he continued to serve the king he’d pulled from the fires of madness. He stood in the shadow of the throne, protecting his mates and his children. He served, faithful as ever.
And now he looked at me like I was the most important person in the world.
I pressed my face into his barasta, inhaling the cool, clean scent of water that always clung to him.
“Nothing is ever lost, lass,” he said softly. “Not while we breathe.” He eased back and brushed my tears away with his thumbs. “We’ll find your mates. I won’t rest until you’re reunited with them.”
For the first time since I’d left Tavish and Albie in Razrothia, hope soared in my chest.
My father would help me.
I’d search through time and space. No matter how long it took, I was going to reclaim what was mine.
Da looked down at my buckskin coat as if noticing it for the first time.
“What in the name of the gods are you wearing?”
Chapter
Twenty
PORTIA
The sea crashed against the shore of Beithir Island in rhythmic waves. The moon rose over the water, its reflection rippling in the swells farther from shore. It was hours past midnight, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t sleeping tonight.
I stood on the rugged, pebble-covered sand and watched the water without really seeing it.
It had been three weeks since I’d stepped through the stones and landed in my father’s arms. Three weeks since I’d told him about Tavish and Albie. Three weeks since he’d promised to help me find them.
And for three weeks, my father had searched the world for the chronomancer and turned up nothing. Every morning before dawn broke, he entered the sea. And every night well past midnight, he emerged empty-handed.
The wind picked up, and I tugged my wool cardigan more tightly around me. A few feet away, Mum pushed her dark hair out of her face. Dad stood next to her, his eyes on the sea. Malcolm sat on a large rock on my other side in a crimson Harvard sweatshirt.
He’d left school mid-semester and crossed the Atlantic the day after I returned. He refused to leave, even when I insisted there was nothing he could do. At night, he turned up in my room with one of Mum’s mixing bowls filled with popcorn and M&Ms, then wordlessly climbed into bed beside me and put on trashy television.
It helped. But not even the love of my family could ease the hollowness gnawing a hole in my chest. It spread larger every day, swallowing me pieces at a time. And every day, it gobbled more than the day before.
Mum cast me a worried look—the same one everyone else had been giving me for three weeks.
I knew what they saw. I was thinner. Weaker. My clothes were loose, and dark circles shadowed my eyes.
My dragon paced constantly in my mind, thrashing and snarling without ceasing. The first week, I’d shifted and flown over the stones, thinking the portal might open if I retraced my steps. But the stones stayed quiet, the only activity the human tourists rolling over the hills in their cargo vans and rented cars.
After the second week, I’d grown too weak to fly. So I waited by the sea, the hollowness chewing holes in my heart.
Malcolm stood and crossed to me, pebbles crunching under his feet. The wind ruffled his blond hair as he bumped his shoulder against mine. “Keep your chin up, Little Sis.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Big Bro.”
He wrapped an arm around me and squeezed, smelling like fire, laundry detergent, and the cologne I’d given him the previous Christmas. “We’ll find them.”
Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted to believe him. But if my father, who possessed all seven elements, couldn’t even find the chronomancer, what hope did I have of finding Tavish and Albie? I didn’t even know what time they were in.
Dad turned from the water, his gaze finding my mother’s. “Niall should have returned by now.”
