When I begin, I start with last night, but he stops me.
“Everything,” he signs. “Beginning with Collecting Day.”
He lays his warm hand on my knee and listens. At first, I still feel unsure. Uneasy. But he rubs his forge-calloused fingers softly against my leg, as though soothing me, gently telling me that it’s okay to say what I need to say.
The more I sign, the more the floodgates open, until eventually, I even tell him about last night and my dream on the beach today, and about facing the Witch Collector, about how much I ache for that man and yet hate him too, and how I don’t know anything about who I am anymore.
He lifts his hand and brushes the tears from my cheek with his thumb before tugging my robe and gown back for a look at the burn scar that has erased most of the rune.
“You have to go,” he signs, a pained look in his eyes. “To the City of Ruin. I will be fine.”
It shakes me to my core that he doesn’t fight the fact that he can’t go. That tells me all I need to know about how Finn truly feels physically right now, regardless of his effort to hold his eyes open long enough to listen to my story.
“I love you, Raina,” he signs. A single tear tracks down the side of his nose. “I want you here. But this is something you have to do.”
“I know,” I sign back. “And I love you too.” How deeply I mean those words.
He angles his head on the pillow, those constantly mussed black curls tumbling over his forehead. There’s a sad tilt to his eyes. “But not like you love him,” he signs.
I can’t help but make a face. “I do not—”
He cuts me off, a languorous grin on his mouth, his voice a ragged, scraping whisper when he speaks. “You are Tiressia’s worst liar, Raina Bloodgood.”
A breath rushes from me, and I wave my hands, trying to stop him from using his voice, but he continues regardless.
“I’m all right, let me finish,” he insists. “It hurts me,” he continues. “But I see it. You need to be with him. For now, at least. Go to the Summerlands if you can. Figure out your story. And then,” he takes my hand, “if you still want me, I will be here. If you want him, I will bear it. I just want you happy. That’s all I have ever wanted.”
More tears. I can’t stop them. It seems that Finn’s kindness and understanding have opened a path for me to funnel all my worry and pain and sadness and regret.
He draws me to him, and again, I lie in his arms and cry, thankful that he’s holding me.
I admit something to him that I’m not sure I would admit to anyone else right now.
“I am scared,” I sign.
He presses his lips to my temple. “I know.”
41
NEPHELE
I can’t stop pacing the uppermost catwalk of the lighthouse.
The shimmering veil of magick the Watch’s Witch Walkers have erected along the coast to keep us on the mainland shimmers like mist on a spider’s web. I can get us through the barrier with Alexus’s help, I know. But I’m nervous that I won’t have a reason to try.
Below and to our far left, on the veranda, Hel, Jaega, and Zahira stare at the sea, watching Rhonin, Hel, Harmon, and his boys as they drag row boats and oars to the shore in hopes we’ll need them. Raina is upstairs with Finn. She didn’t say as much, but I know my sister. She’s packing and torturing Alexus. I have no doubt.
“I’m glad you got some rest today,” Alexus says. He stands with his arms braced on the iron railing, his eyes trained to the east. His jaw hasn’t stopped feathering since we left the dining room earlier. His concern about Raina choosing to stay behind and what he’ll do if she does is evident.
“Me too. Thanks for lending me the lighthouse.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I could see your exhaustion. And your agitation.” Bluntly, he adds, “I’m surprised you’re so worried about Joran.”
“I’m not worried about him.” And I’m not. Even though Raina tried to see him in the waters earlier and couldn’t. From exhaustion, perhaps. “I’m worried about my friends and my sister,” I continue. “About Yaz and Zahira and Finn and Mari. Harmon and the boys. About not getting out of Starworth Tor alive or being buried at sea thanks to the Northland fleet or not getting through that veil or the fact that I’m half Summerlander. I’m truly not worried about Joran. Never him.”
“Never,” Alexus mocks, his brows curling inward as he gives me a look I know too well. That knowing smirk.
“Stop it,” I warn him as I jab his shoulder with my pointer finger, “or I’ll toss you over.”
