A server twisted around a group of boisterous twenty-something guys, moving with a grace that hinted at her years spent dancing back in Ireland before coming here for school. Sophie was a sweet girl, took no nonsense from anyone who came through the door, and always had a cheerful attitude. So her faint frown was concerning.
“Saoirse’s in the back, looking a bit glum,” Sophie said, her Dublin accent not the only one Riordan could hear within the walls of the pub.
“We’ll check on her,” Riordan promised. Sophie nodded and left with her tray of empties, easily weaving through the crowd. Donal shoved at Riordan’s shoulder, and he got moving.
The pub took up the first floor of the building, lit with amber lights scattered throughout on the ceiling and wall. The wooden tables weren’t bolted down, which meant they were easy to pitch together for large parties, of which there weren’t any tonight. Mostly, it was small groups drinking beer and eating pub food. Riordan’s stomach growled as the smell of fish and chips hit his nose when he passed a table.
“Didn’t eat while you were out?” Donal asked.
“I wasn’t focused on food.”
“I’ll put in an order for us.”
Donal peeled off, heading for the kitchen. Riordan continued to the table in the corner where their sister sat, methodically tapping the fingers of both hands against a half-empty pint glass. When Saoirse spotted him, she gave him a tight little smile. “What’s thecraic?”
“Sorry,a dheirfiúr. I didn’t find it.” Saoirse ducked her head, fingers stilling on the pint glass. Her auburn hair was scraped back in a tight ponytail, making it easy for him to see how she squeezed her eyes shut, clearly trying not to cry. Riordan kicked the chair next to hers out from beneath the table and sat in it,slinging his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. “Sure look, we’ll find it.”
Saoirse leaned into him, still clutching her pint glass. “I shouldn’t have gone to that club.”
“None of that. It’s not your fault you were out having fun with your friends. That’s not a crime. You didn’t lose your skin; it was stolen from you.”
“And now they’re using it to hurt the clan.”
“We’ll get it back.”
Saoirse raised her head, eyes dry despite the wretched look in them. “We’re running out of time.”
Riordan didn’t argue that fact because it was true. They were days out from the deadline they’d been given, but he’d be damned if they were forced to choose between the clan and his sister’s life.
Having their sealskin taken from them by someone they didn’t choose was a nightmare every selkie carried in their bones. To have themselves bound—mind, body, and soul—to someone who would only keep them as a prisoner simply because that person held their sealskin was something every clan guarded against. They were taught young, the rules ingrained deep, to never let go of their sealskin.
Saoirse hadn’t let it go willingly—she’d had it ripped from her.
“We are not letting you go,” Riordan promised in a low voice, heart aching with wanting to make that statement true.
Saoirse curled her fingers around his wrist, giving him a strong squeeze. “You don’t have a choice.”
Because the magic in her sealskin would be too much to resist after a time, the pull their people were born with demanding she be reunited with it. If she went, Riordan knew they would never get to see her again and that she would never know the ocean again.
“Hey, lass,” Donal said quietly when he arrived a few minutes later with two pints of Guinness, one of which he placed in front of Riordan. “How are you doing?”
“I’m all right for now.”
Donal didn’t appear to believe her, the same way Riordan didn’t, but he left it alone. “Our food should be out soon.”
“Good, because I’m starving,” Riordan said.
“Then you should’ve eaten some fish.”
Riordan made a face and reached for his Guinness. “I’ll take it fried.”
Donal sat across from them, lounging spread-legged in the chair, one of his feet knocking against Riordan’s on accident. “The wedding was a bust when it came to looking for allies.”
Saoirse leaned forward to rest her chin on her hand with a resigned air about her. “We can offer the clans in Underhill nothing, and other fae won’t even look twice at us for the same reason. We’ve been too long here, they always say.”
“Going back won’t help you,” Riordan said stubbornly. She’d never be able to stay, not with her sealskin held in the mortal world. It would drive her mad.
Saoirse shrugged, gaze dropping to the tabletop. “I know.”
