As I stepped out from the spiral staircase leading down from my room, I noticed a dark shape standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, leaning in so close it might’ve been kissing the glass. A voice murmured words too quiet for me to hear.
My heart thudded in my chest.
Is it Kelly, come back to talk to me?
“Who’s there?”
The shape turned and waved a hand through the air. Aline’s eyes watered as she met mine. She pulled the dark hood from her head and wiped her hand across her face. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I got bored waiting in the Great Hall by myself.”
I wondered if she’d come up to check on me, and the thought of it made me feel both loved, offended, and mortified, especially when I thought about what she might just have heard. “This bathroom is off limits. Use the guest one downstairs in future. What’s with the Dracula cloak?”
“Oh.” Aline smoothed the fabric down, as if she only just realised she was wearing it. “I found it in a box in the cupboard at the end of the hall. There are a few old things in there from my coven. I used to wear this at rituals sometimes. I thought Daigh might recognise it.”
“Good thinking.” I stepped closer. “About last night, I’m sorry I snapped at you about the ritual. I was tired and worried about Corbin and I?—”
“Your magic,” Aline whispered, her eyes widening. “I can feel it. “
I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s just say I’m ready for anything Daigh throws at us.”
Aline’s eyebrows raised, and she gave me a knowing smile. “You do your ancestors proud, Maeve Moore. And your mother, for what it’s worth.”
Over a quick breakfast of toasted muesli topped with fresh cream and berries from the garden, Aline explained how we were going to contact Daigh.
I assumed we’d drink the same potion Blake had used to become a temporary shade and enter the underworld, but she shook her head. “This battle is all about power. I don’t want to go to where Diagh is powerful. I want him to come to us.”
“Hold on. We’re currently safe from the fae, and you want to bring them here?”
“Not the fae, just your father. And he won’t really be here. This kind of communication is part of my unique spirit magic. I know what I’m doing.” She explained the steps of the spell that would open a portal to allow Daigh to talk to us without travelling here to the human realm. I had to admit it sounded like a far safer option.
We packed up our things and left for the sidhe. As I locked the kitchen gate behind us, a raven flew from the parapet above. It’s beady yellow eye fixed on mine as it soared into the trees. It stopped on a branch overhanging the path and croaked three times.
Arthur shielded his eyes from the sun as she watched it’s graceful arc across the sky. “An omen.”
“Good or bad?” Flynn asked.
Aline gave him a sad smile. “Three guesses.”
“Bad then.” Flynn sighed. “Where’s Obelix when you need him?”
“Sunning himself on the first-floor parapets, last I saw him,” Corbin said.
“There are no such things as omens,” I scoffed. But the bird’s piercing eye stayed with me as I followed Aline through the orchard. I imagined it watching me from the trees.
We bypassed the sidhe and gathered behind it, in the shadow of the trees. Corbin had the idea that the villagers might be spying on the field, and we didn’t want to give them any more fuel for their persecutions against us. Here there was a large enough clearing to hold our circle and we’d hopefully stay hidden from any prying eyes.
In the centre of the circle, Aline placed a round mirror and a knife. She stepped back between Flynn and Arthur, linking arms to join our chanting while I cast the circle. As soon as our magical protections were raised, she grabbed my hand and drew me into the centre.
“Do you want to do the talking, or should I?”
“He’ll be expecting to see me first.” I remembered last time I’d spoken to Daigh, how afraid I’d been. I didn’t want to show him that same fear today. At least this time was different – I had the pull weight of my spirit magic humming in my veins. “You stay behind me. Don’t let him see you at first. We’ll use you to catch him off-guard.”
“As you wish, daughter of mine.” Aline gripped the knife in her hands. She winced as she turned the blade to herself and drew a shape on her skin, a rune. I glanced up at Blake, searching his face for recognition. He nodded, his eyes widening. “That’s Daigh’s rune,” he whispered.
Aline handed me the knife. I stared at her blood coating the blade.
“You have to do it, too,” she said.
My hand trembled around the handle as I touched the knife to my skin. As lightly as I could, I drew the blade to copy the lines Aline had done. The cuts stung as the cold air whispered over them, and faint lines of blood spilled over.
