It was that—my name on his lips—that decided me. For though I searched his dark, husky tone for any hint of Folk command, of false maneuvering, of manipulation, I found only an appeal. An appeal to my deepest, most authentic self—the shaded forest in my veins, the green leaves around my heart. It was only my name, and yet—
I flipped my grip on the Sky-Sword. And slowly handed it to the man to whom it belonged.
Irian closed his fist around the hilt. A crackle of power sparked lightning through the fog, and a gust of carrion-scented wind lifted the hair off my neck. Then he exhaled and collapsed sideways onto the beach.
My pulse throbbed. I took a step toward him. But Chandi and the other swan maidens were already there, surrounding the dying tánaiste in a cluster.
All but one of them.
“Oh, Sister.” Reproach suffused Eala’s face, harsh on her gentle features. “I fear you have chosen him over me in our time of need.”
“But I haven’t.” Her words took me aback—they struck me as something Mother would say. “Surely you understand—the stakesare too high. If any part of what he said was true, then your life—allyour lives—are forfeit. I could not risk it.”
“Then it should have been our decision—all of ours.” She lifted her delicate chin, a bitter kind of helplessness in her eyes. “You made it yours. I hope you do not live to regret that.”
“Rogan and I are here to save you, Eala—not consign you to death.” I gripped one of her hands. It was limp and white in my gore-streaked palm, and after a moment, I released it. “We will find another way to break your geas.”
She said no more as she moved to rejoin her maidens. As a group, they had gotten Irian to his feet. I followed them with my eyes until the mist swallowed them up. One by one, their shining gowns disappeared, like stars burning out.
In the moment before they disappeared, a pair of opalescent eyes stared back at me through the fog. And I hoped to all the gods that I’d made the right choice.
I could not find my way to the Gate. The dense, eerie fog swirled in treacherous circles, confusing my footsteps. I passed one sturdy rowan tree, only to pass it again moments later. I paused, helplessness breeding uncertainty in my mind.
“Fia!” The voice sifted through the pale gloom. “Changeling!”
I hurtled toward the sound, then nearly collided with Rogan—he was closer than I’d expected. We must have passed mere feet from each other in the fog. Beyond him, I sighted the tenuous outline of the willow tree, the hard line of the bridge.
“Thank the gods,” I breathed, gripping his arms in relief.
“What in Donn’s black gates happened to you?” Worry and horror racked Rogan’s face. I was still covered in gore, bruises, and Irian’s silver blood. I must have looked a mess.
“Long story,” I said. “We need to get back to Roslea before this enchanted fog keeps us here forever. Ready?”
We passed through the Gate quickly. Beyond, the forest still dripped with lingering moisture but was blessedly free of mist.
Rogan’s hand on my elbow spun me to face him. “Now tell me what happened.”
I hesitated. I didn’t think I could keep my mission a secret any longer—at least, not where it intersected with Eala’s fate. And perhaps it was selfish, but I didn’t want Irian’s revelations to reach Rogan’s ears through Eala’s mouth. Better I tell him and be done with it.
“I… had the chance to deal a mortal blow to the Gentry tánaiste who cursed Eala and the other maidens.” The words tasted ragged on my tongue—they weren’t completely true. “But he said such an act would only doom them. Their geas is bound to his life—if he dies, they die.”
Rogan absorbed this.
“So I let him live. I didn’t know what else to do. But Eala—she’s angry with me. She thinks he’s lying.”
“The Folk are treacherous,” Rogan said slowly. “Perhaps he was lying. Perhaps he was telling the truth. Either way, you did the right thing.”
Relief sighed through me—a warm wind unraveling cold fog. “I thought you might side with Eala.”
“You did the only thing you could with the information you had.” He reached out, gripped my palm. It was the first time we’d touched since Imbolc, and my frayed pulse accelerated. “You fought for her. Prioritized her life—no matter the cost. If she doesn’t see that, she’s blind.”
He didn’t let go of my gore-streaked hand until the fort loomed up before us in the dawn. And his words were the only thing that let me fall asleep that morning, lending me some small measure of comfort.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nion—Ash
Late Winter
