“We are your broken heart, Deirdre of the Sorrows.” The snake stilled as a giant elk reared to life beside it, piercing the stone with vast silver antlers. “Forgotten hallways where naught’s as it seems, where whispers linger and starlight still gleams. Speak to us your desired end; we shall see what sorrow we can mend.”
Perhaps it was foolhardy, but Deirdre did not hesitate. The magic of this place was fading—the starlight clinging to Fia little more than a flickering whisper. The trees were nearly columns, the primeval forest but an ancient memory.
“Once, in a time of falling stars and endless nights, a girl was born to die.” Deirdre clutched Fia. “Only she lived. She lived when her great love died. She lived when her baby was plucked from her arms. She lived when somewhere far away, all her kin were slaughtered. She lived when her daughter spent her life to free magic. But the stars are calling her—the time has come to fulfill her destiny.” She looked down at her daughter, their faces similar yet different—a mirror seen through smoke. “I give my willing heart to you, Fia—for youaremy heart.” The walls no longer moved. “Let me die, so she may live. Let my ending be her new beginning.”
Bong.
Somewhere high above, a bell began to toll. Strange—Deirdre had not noticed a bell tower.
Bong. Bong.
Beside her, a much-folded piece of paper stirred on the floor. Upon it, a white swan sailed upon a darkened lough. Her shadow in the water was black as night. A thousand stars careened around them.
Bong. Bong. Bong.
New words were scrawled beneath the ones already written. Deirdre could not make them out.
Bong. Bong. Bong.
Beneath Deirdre’s palm, her child’s skin shifted.
Bong. Bong.
A heartbeat.A heartbeat.
Bong.
Deirdre’s daughter stirred in her arms, her lips parting as she inhaled.
Bong.
As the last toll faded into echoes and the forest of dreams turned back into stone, Fia opened her eyes.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Fia
Aface loomed over me—beautiful, if gaunt, punctuated by green eyes the color of new leaves and framed by long, tangled dark hair. An echo teased the edge of my hearing.
I smiled. I knew who she was. I knew where we were.
Ididn’tknow why lying on the floor of the afterlife felt so damnedcold.
“Mother?” The word rolled strangely off my tongue. I tried another one. “Deirdre?”
“Yes, little deer.” Her eyes were huge and wet as woodland pools, but the smile she gave me was crystal clear. “My Fia. Remember this, if you remember nothing else—I love you. I have always loved you. In the beginning. And at the end.”
She brushed a faint kiss upon my brow. My eyes fluttered shut.
When I opened them again, she was gone. I sat up painfully—my chest burned, as if a bonfire had been kindled atop it. I rubbed my sternum with the heel of my palm, trying to get my bearings. It was only when I saw Eala’s prone form laid out on the floor that it all came rushing back. I half crawled across the dark floor towardmy sister. She might have been sleeping—her lovely face serene, her brow untroubled. My fingers found her wrist. There was no pulse.
I sat back on my heels. Stared around the great hall, now carven stone and lost echoes. A scrap of paper on the floor caught my eye. It was the prophecy Cathair had ripped from his Book of Whispers—the prophecy I had perused countless times in the past weeks, trying to write some other ending to my story. But it seemed a new line had been added to the bottom, though I could not make it out in the dim.
I plucked it up as I stood. Ensuring my pouch was still secured at my waist, I pushed open the heavy doors. Outside, the battle had dwindled into something closer to a rout. All the revenants had fallen, leaving both Gentry and human troops to wander, battered, through the massed dead. Some still fought one another, but the violence was half-hearted, disconsolate. Fire smoldered everywhere—red in the forest and bright green over the hills and between the mounting trebuchets. Horses whinnied. Men shouted. False dawn grayed the horizon.
The battle was won. Death was defeated.
“Lady!” Balor’s stomping shook the courtyard. He crouched next to me, touching the top of my head with one large finger as if to make sure I was real. “You survived.”
