I satin the council room, listening to them talk about the same damn things they had talked about the last time I was there. Except it was getting worse. They rattled off names of towns where holes inthe Veil had been found. I tried to place them on the mental map I’d made of Serentyn but couldn’t remember the locations of all of them. Were these big towns or small? How many people had been killed or injured?
I got the answer to that question next, as they rattled off casualty lists. They weren’t just numbers anymore. They had prepared a detailed accounting that made my stomach turn.
A small, wiry man read it off in a monotone voice. “Town of Newry, fifteen dead, twenty-three missing, presumed to now be hufen. Village of Tralee, the entire population was evacuated after a hole expanded overnight. In Fermoy, five children were among the dead after a hufen attack during a market day.”
Children. I clenched my hands in my lap. Five children who would never grow up because I hadn’t figured out how to do the one thing I was supposed to do. The one thing I had been born to do.
“And what about you?” Zachariah’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I squirmed under the intense scrutiny of the regent and the dozen council members. “Have you made any progress on your destiny? Or were you too busy playing around to remember that people are dying?”
“I’ve been working?—”
“Working?” He laughed, deeply bitter. “Touring around the realm and swimming in the ocean is not work. Mothers are burying their children while you do that so-called work. Families lost everything. All because their destined savior would rather traipse around Serentyn than focus on her responsibilities. Did you think of the people dying at all while you were away?”
Each word hit like a physical blow. He was right. I had been enjoying myself while my people died. Whilechildrenhad died.
“I’m trying—” I was ashamed at how small my voice came out.
“Trying isn’t enough!” he interrupted in a thunderous voice. “The Orlaith isn’t supposed totry! The Orlaith is the sole person who can fix the Veil and defeat this darkness that surroundsus. So where is our salvation, Granddaughter? Where are the vast amounts of power that are supposed to fix everything?”
The panic rose in my chest. No matter how much I read, how many hours I put into training, I was no closer to understanding anything about how the Veil worked, let alone repair it. It was like any mention of how the Veil had been constructed had disappeared.
What if the prophecy was wrong? Or—the thought chilled me to the bone—what if Iwasn’tthe one from the prophecy? What if I had absolutely no ability to save anyone here? No reason for being here.
He continued ranting about how I was the only one who could stop people from dying, as if I didn’t know. As if I didn’t feel every death on that list on my shoulders. Their blood on my hands.
Around the table, the council members’ stares weighed me down. Their desperate hope had been mixing more and more with growing doubt every time I came to one of these meetings. How long before that hope disappeared entirely, and shifted to blame?
“Every day you delay”—Zachariah’s voice had lost its thunder now, but the relentless calm was somehow worse—“more people die. More children become orphans. More parents lose everything. And it’s all on you, Granddaughter. Until you fulfill your destiny, it’s all on you.”
I shot to my feet, my chair screeching back on the stone floor before toppling over. “You think I don’t know this? You think I don’t feel every single death? You think I’m not trying everything I can think of? Knowing I’m failing everyone?”
I had shocked them into silence.
“Shouting at me isn’t going to magically make me figure this out. Especially since no one alive knows how to do it.” I strode to the door, pausing with my hand on the handle. “The next time you want to blame me for taking a day to not think about the deaths of my people, all of you should ask yourselves whatyou’vedone to solve this problem, beyond endlessly discussing it.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “So fuck off, Grandfather.”
“Manners, young lady!”
I looked him straight in the eye. “Kindlyfuck off.” And I strode straight through the door, ignoring the whispers behind me. They could fuck off too. I was doing my best, even if they couldn’t see it.
Even if I doubted myself.
I stormeddown the hallway to my rooms, spent. We’d arrived back mid-morning and it was now past supper. Significantly past. I opened the door and stopped short. Griff was on my couch, boots off, feet bare, swords still within easy reach, a picture of relaxation who had certainly made himself at home. And he wasreading.I thought Finn was the reader. That was what I was going to focus on. Not the myriad of other things that sprang to mind.
And how had he gotten past the wards? I thought they were keyed to only me?
“Hey, Princess.” He didn’t even look up. Just turned the page.
“‘Hey, Princess’? That’s all you have to say?” I shoved the door closed behind me with a crash.
He glanced up from his book. “Think the nightmares are going to stay away now that we’re here?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“Thought so. I’d rather be here than wake in a cold sweat and teleport to you before I know what’s happening.” He looked me over, his sharp eyes missing nothing. “Did you eat?”
I shook my head.
He pointed to the table. “There’s a tray over there.”
