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I turn then. “The others should know.”

“No.”

The word comes quick enough that it stops me.

“No?” I echo.

“No,” he says again. His eyes flare brighter then, that impossible blue lit from within as the power in him stirs. The wind picks up around us at once, sharp and cold. “And this you cannot afford to misunderstand, Robert.”

What settles over his face is heavier than command and far less merciful than pleading.

“In the old laws, what is taken in silence remains protected,” he says. “The claim has been made. The gift has been given. But if this is spoken aloud outside the ceremony, it ceases to be veiled.”

I frown. “Meaning?”

“Meaning a hidden bargain would then become a declared one. Other powers would then be made aware of such gifts.”

A chill slips down my spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the air.

“The God of the Dead?”

Mannie’s mouth hardens. “Among others. There are darker ways of taking from the Tuatha Dé Danann than oath and blessing. What is given may also be stolen.”

So that was the truth of it: not merely a gift, but a claim. Not merely a claim, but one that could be hunted.

A cold unease moves through me. “Stolen?”

“Yes.” His gaze holds mine. “Amelia saw enough in her vision to make me fear it. I cannot yet say whether the man she saw with the other half of the basalt had himself been touched by some dark force that covets such power, or whether he was the one acting on its behalf. Either way, there are those who would take what was granted here and turn it to their own ends. And they are closer than ever.”

Unease pulls tight in my chest. “How am I meant to stop them from speaking of it,” I ask, “when whatever was granted shows itself?”

“You are not meant to,” Mannie says. “A man remarking that strength sits differently in him is one thing. A man saying an oath claimed part of his soul and gave strength in return is another.”

The instinct in me is to tell them at once, but I can see the trap in it. Knowledge like this doesn’t merely burden the men who carry it. It makes them easier to find. Easier to tempt. Easier to break.

The place where the mark lies hidden in my hand throbs once, low and deep.

Mannie steps closer.

“I know I ask much of you,” he says, and there’s no lightness left in him now, “but it has to remain a secret.”

The wind pulls at his coat. Somewhere below, water smashes stone.

“For how long?” I ask.

“Until silence is no longer the kinder thing.”

“Kinder to whom?”

“All of you.”

I frown. “How is keeping a secret this vast a mercy?”

He studies me for a long moment. “I judged rightly in telling you. You will understand soon enough why there was no keeping this from you.”

“Say it plainly for once.”

A humourless breath leaves him. He throws up a hand between us, impatient now. “Plainly? Fine. You are asking for knowledge that may do harm before it does good. A man’s future is not a thing to be set in his hands as though it were harmless reading.”