And this was a voice she had not heard in over a year, if not longer. Rhiannon struggled to open her eyes, the eyelids not cooperating immediately. When she did, Deryn, all sharpundercut and floppy fringe, appeared in her view, sitting cross-legged on the most uncomfortable straight-backed green chair.
“Ceridwen’s house.” Rhiannon’s lip split as she murmured, and then Deryn’s fingers were touching her face, the pain and blood gone in a moment.
“Not as good as her with your healing, Der.” Rhiannon smirked slightly, and when the lip split again, Deryn sighed.
“Whatever, Rhy. Saying thank you would’ve killed you?”
“Thank you? Surely anything would though... Kill me. In this state, I mean,” Rhiannon rasped, giving her baby sister an appraising look. Slim, brash, her eyebrow pierced and her Doc Martens shining, Deryn looked nothing like one would expect the world-famous cupcake baker to.
“Or was it muffins?”
“Those too.” Voice hoarse, Deryn grinned. “Turnovers. And layered cakes. You name it, I bake it.”
“Catchy. Is that your business motto?” Rhiannon wondered if rolling her eyes at her sister’s ridiculous antics would put her into a coma.
“Well, ‘finger-lickin’ good’ was already taken.” Deryn’s grin widened suggestively, and Rhiannon did risk rolling her eyes. It hurt. It was worth it either way.
“Why are you here?”
“Ceridwen is at Blossoms, Victoria finally reopened the Tavern, and Chief Seren—do you ever think how that is even a real thing, our sister a Fire Chief?—is busy at the site of the fire trying to determine what the hell started it. She has not been successful yet, and it’s kinda driving her crazy, which I admit is a short drive. Still, it’s the damnedest thing. They just can’t pinpoint what it was. Not the electric, nor the fireplace. All tip top. Nor can they tell where was the point of ignition. Weirdness and questions abound. Also, Crow & Cat, I like the name, Rhy. You have to rebuild it so you use it again.”
Rhiannon just looked at her, narrowing her eyes, and the age-old move worked yet again on the youngest Crowhart.
“Fine fine. Dammit, Rhy. You could always make me spill. I came because the coven needed me. And Ceridwen’s circle. Not the impromptu one we opened to help you. Her permanent circle is drawn, and it called to me. You know how that works.”
Rhiannon knew. She knew very well. Her mother’s circle was the last one to ever call to her before she severed her magic. That call wasn’t something one would forget.
“I wasn’t aware Ceridwen drew her circle.” She could barely push the words out.
Deryn grimaced, then answered carefully.
“It’s Samhain today, Rhy, of course she drew her circle. She generally tends to do the drawing earlier, just to make sure everything is right. We’ll be joining hands tonight, and she needs us all there. I usually come over for Halloween, anyway. Aside from her birthday one, it’s the Samhain circle that requires the most power to hold.”
Samhain. Halloween. Rhiannon forgot entirely what the date was. She had joined Ceridwen and their mother in the Samhain circle a few times from the day she turned fifteen to the day she left Crow’s Nest. It was indeed a special one, one that required energy and skill to hold, to endure the call of it, to harness the power and to give it back.
No wonder Deryn was on the island. And after everything Ceridwen saw from Rhiannon, it was a no-brainer that she couldn’t count on her. Not that Rhiannon would’ve wanted Ceridwen to count on her. Not for this, certainly. Just a few days ago she couldn’t even make the air move without keeling over. So why was she feeling this out of sorts? This torn up by her own choices?
Her unleashing the magic to save Prudence didn’t change anything. She still didn’t want it. Moreover, she had no idea what had even happened to her power to begin with.
Rhiannon thought for a second about things that could’ve and didn’t kill her. She tried to move her hands; the fatigue making her nauseated. She managed to raise them to her face, then the tremors of exhaustion overtook her.
“Yeah, about that.” Deryn pointed at Rhiannon’s prone body. “Basically, Ceri says the makeshift circle might’ve helped? My being there, amplifying the connection the Crowharts hold, all the sisters together for the very first time, blah blah blah. You know I don’t know how these things actually work; I just show up when needed and look pretty.” Deryn wagged her eyebrows, and Rhiannon smiled at the ridiculousness that was her sister. Then Deryn sobered. “What is kinda bad, though, is that we don’t know if you’ll ever be the same.”
“The same?” Rhiannon wondered why everything around her was getting darker. There was a dull ringing in her ears, and Prudence’s sleepy breathing was becoming distant and quieter.
Absentmindedly, she felt Deryn’s touch on her fingers, but it was muted, barely there, despite feeling certain Deryn was holding on for dear life.
“We can only guess what happened after you kept the magic locked up for two decades, but the fact that you’re alive is a miracle. It should’ve torn you apart. Do you know that? Did you know that when you unleashed the storm?”
The ringing in her ears intensified, and Deryn was now so far away. Rhiannon clung to consciousness with everything she had, even though she felt strangely empty.
“I knew what I was doing.”
When she woke again,it was Prudence’s hands on her face, dabbing carefully at her mouth with a washcloth, and her magic was shimmering brightly as she poured herself into Rhiannon. The lip didn’t sting anymore.
“Well, you’re better than Deryn.”
Prudence laughed quietly, and Rhiannon watched the beloved features, the way joy brightened them, the way the gray sparkled with pleasure.
