Page 7

Not yet.

“Either way, Captain, mourn her here, in the safety of your room. Beyond these walls you have the sister of the Ard Rí as your betrothed. And we both know that the Lady Oaken Rose will not appreciate you mourning the loss of a single human life when you should be pretending to be rejoicing over your impending nuptials.” He eased my weight onto the floor. When he saw the twisted hulk that had once been the copper tub she had relaxed in, accusing eyes darted between me and its corpse. “You’ll have to suffer your own sick since you decided to throw a tantrum. I am not hauling water up from the common latrines to wash you. I take pity on you for your loss, but not that much.”

My back hit the cold stone wall, and I relaxed into it, only vaguely aware of the way the stone scored the flesh of my back. “Pity? Don’t. I won’t take pity on you or anyone else when I leave this room. Here, you are safe. The moment I step out of it, I will wage war on all of existence for having the impertinence to continue without her.”

Silver slid down the wall to join me. His eyes found a spot on the ceiling as he fixated on it. “I’ve not lived through the horrors that you have, Captain. I have not watched everything I ever loved slip through my fingers. Every time my seafoam leaves for the sea again, I sit at home and imagine what could happen while she’s out there. All the predators that live on land, none of them scare me, but everything with a tooth that lives in the sea terrifies me. Every day she is gone feels like a thousand. Every hour that ticks by where she is not safe on land, I miss her and I fear for her. Thought about hiding her skin once, just once. I couldn’t bear the idea of her dying out there and me left on land having never known it. It never gets easier though. No matter how many times she comes back.”

“I don’t know where this is going but she’s not a selkie, Silver. She’s not just out sewing her oats and rekindling her magic. She’s gone. She’s dead.”

“You don’t know that though, Captain. That’s what I’m inelegantly trying to say. Not until we find her body. And even then, I’ve seen what that girl has lived through. I wouldn’t count her out as dead until the fire has licked her bones clean, and even then, I’d not be surprised if she popped up as a ghost to haunt your ass for the rest of eternity. Perhaps the fact that there’s no rattling of chains or shattered mirrors should be the boon you cling to, telling you she’s still out there.”

My eye drifted over to the shards of reflective glass that sparkled in the low light.

“Well. One out of two isn’t bad.” He snorted in amusement, pushing up from the floor. “Take the wards down. I’ll send a hunt to come in here to clean this all away. Get your shit together. No more Siur Dobh. I have squads scouring the countryside with orders to go all the way across Magh Meall into the Old Teeth if necessary. If she’s still alive, we’ll find her. If I need to, I’ll get the Fomorians involved. If she walks Magh Meall or rests beneath it, I’ll find her. One way or another. I sw—”

I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Hold your oaths, Silvertree. I don’t want magic called into this. I know you will fail, and I know that magic will strip you to the stones when you finally admit it to yourself. Instead, have the Order of Finnbhennach send over their best.”

Silver gulped and nodded, taking his leave. The Order was the horde of creatures too big to be considered true Fae, too small to be considered dragons, and too blood thirsty to be entered into the true ranks of His Majesty’s army. They were the shock troops. The things that Bastard had dredged up from the bowels of the depths of the Old Teeth to dangle over his enemies should they get too bold. Just the threat of their leashes being cut was often enough to cull the heartiest of rebellions.

If I could not fill my arms with her, I would fill the void she left with pain.

Chapter 4

Cricket

The rustling on the bank across from us woke me from my shallow, dreamless sleep. My head had come to rest on the back of Goose’s, and I’d drooled into his inky fur. I expected for it to just pass through, but he had an obvious damp swirl.

I squinted, staying low and quiet as I tried to put the disjointed pieces of the world back together. I knew where I was, but nothing seemed to make sense. Across from me was a perfectly normal-looking woman, her sun-burnished skin reflecting the warmth of the sun above us like a glowing halo. Her twin braids flowed around her shoulders like an expertly woven shawl of black, each accentuated at the base with the glint of a metal cuff. As she pushed a few errant hairs behind her ear, I couldn’t help but notice there was not a single point or ear guard to be seen. She was an unaltered human.

“No One, Nothing, A Secret. We are not alone, but I don’t think it’s a threat,” I whispered as softly as I could. Goose was already awake. It seemed these days that the moment my eyes opened, his did as well. We had become synced to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised if I started hearing his thoughts.

The other three slowly stirred with the assistance of Goose’s encouraging tail swatting them in the face.

I watched the woman. Aside from the long dress that she had knotted at each side of her full hips, she could be any other human I had seen a million or more times walking down the streets of Detroit. She could be perfectly at home in a cafe, chatting on a cell phone, or shopping at a department store.

It made me suspicious.

In all my time in Magh Meall, I had not seen a single human that had not been altered. Some, like my companions, more than others, but all of them had been mutated beyond their true appearance. Yet here she was, casually scrubbing what looked like breeches, a chemise, and drying cloths at a river in the middle of the woods.

The other three crouched in the reeds with me, openly gawking at the woman.

“Is . . . Is that . . .” Violet whispered in her ancient voice.

Emerald turned her head to me, the sun streaming through her vivid green crystalline skin and diffusing across the image of women strolling down a quiet city street in floor-length, trailing, high-waisted skirts with ruffled white blouses tucked into waspish belts, hats with feathers and silk flowers, gloved hands and parasols. The image played like a remastered movie on a loop on the shimmering smoke within her.

“I think . . . That’s a human,” whispered Green Man, daring to say what all of us were thinking, but none of us were brave enough to say.

A human. In Magh Meall. There was a human in Magh Meall! And she was a mere forty yards away from us, washing her hands and clothes in the river we hid beside.

“But how?” I hissed as the woman wrung out the last of her laundry and rose from the bank.

She didn’t lift her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. All she gave us was an enigmatic smile, and she turned away onto what might have been a path cut into the reeds and cattails.

“Should we follow her?” Violet asked.

Green Man, his bushy brow of vines pulling down into a scowl, considered her question too long for my taste.

“Of course. What else are we going to do? Sit here and let our assholes prune up in the mud?” I scoffed.