Brigid stepped down from the dais, a figure of fire and power in Jono’s eyes. She reached the floor to stand in front of him, as tall as he was, with a fierceness in her ancient eyes he would always be wary of.
“My granddaughter is missing, she who is the last remembrance I have of Ruadán. What do you hide from me where she is concerned?”
“Nothing. I know not where she is hidden.”
“Yet you are here.”
“This one who carries me is bound to the one Persephone owns. That one crossed the veil with Cú Chulainn because there is a soul debt he must pay. We followed. We always will.”
“I know of whom you speak. I bled for the blade we all forged for him. He is not here.”
“Not in your Court, no.”
Brigid’s eyes narrowed, her beautiful face like stone. “Medb has sent no messenger with demands.”
“Do you think she who holds another’s throne would be so kind as to give you a warning?”
To that, Brigid said nothing, and the quiet in the throne room was heavy in Jono’s ears.
“The Sluagh and Wild Hunt wreak havoc in the mortal world. We lose time arguing here. Grant us passage through the hawthorn paths. Open the crossroads to us.”
“And what do you expect in return?”
Fenrir’s smile deepened, fangs catching at Jono’s lips. “You have already promised to fight. Your blood in the dagger was binding. I ask for nothing that you have not already given.”
“My warriors are enough without your interference.”
“If that were true, then the Summer Lady would have been found by now.”
“Youdareinsult me in my hearth and home?”
“Your warriors are long absent from the mortal plane. Few of yourdaoine sídhechoose to reside in the iron cities that burn you. Those who do, they understand what is at risk better than your people who hide beyond the veil here in the Otherworld. Your Lord of Ivy and Gold understood that when he bargained with this one.”
“Tiarnán offered something he had no right to give.”
“But he gave it, along with his word. A bargain made is a bargain kept, cousin.”
Brigid stepped closer until she stood nose to nose with Jono and the god who inhabited his skin. She burned before him, heat from her body and soul scorching him like fire. Fenrir never closed Jono’s eyes.
“The crossroads will find you. Do not enter my Court as you are without invitation again.”
Fenrir said nothing to that demand, merely relinquished Jono’s body and mind, burrowing deep into his soul again. Jono staggered backward, nearly losing his footing. He would have, if Gerard hadn’t steadied him.
Jono shook his head, ears ringing, but that only made the sudden headache worse. He winced and tilted his head back, his nerves feeling rawer than if he’d gone through a shift.
“Odin’s wolf will burn out your soul. It is always the case for those who carry his favor,” Brigid said.
Jono tipped his head back down, staring at the goddess before him with human eyes once again. She no longer burned like the sun in his eyesight.
“He chose me. I never went looking for him,” Jono said.
“It is the ones who are looking who will never find the favor they yearn for.” Brigid turned her head slightly to pin Gerard with her steely regard. “Órlaith chose you over all others I brought before her, Cú Chulainn. Find her, or Tír na nÓg will never welcome you home again.”
Gerard bowed low to his queen and goddess. “By your will, my queen.”
Gerard grabbed Jono’s arm with a bruising grip, dragging him away from the dais. It took a few seconds for Jono to get his feet underneath him. By then, Sage and Keith had both joined them, the four of them marching out of the throne room and into the antechamber, where the guards from earlier had been replaced with new ones.
Gerard led them back the way they’d come, through wood and glass corridors, stairs made out of roots and stone, and rooms draped in flowers. The fae they came across on their way out stepped aside, gazes never leaving their small group. Jono steeled himself against the sensation of being watched, hoping it would disappear once they were outside.
