“I won’t.” Cat raised her voice as the sound of frantic feet grew louder. “I know Alis didn’t wander off with Nessa or Eveleen.” Her lips trembled. “Mrs. Kissack told me what you said, about seeing the monster that killed your grandad, and—”
“You think I’m mad, too?”
“No. And neither does Lugh. I’m not sure I believe in sea monsters, but I know you wouldn’t lie, either.” She squeezed my hand. “There’s something strange happening here. And after all that’s passed, I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the truth.”
I took a deep breath. “I understand. Better than you think. But the necklace will keep you safe.”
“Will it? It’s just a disgusting old bone, as far as I can tell, and I don’t trust witchcraft.” Cat met my gaze and held it, heedless of the crooked path ahead. “But I trust you, Bry.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We barely had time to perch ourselves on the edge of the fountain before the lads dashed into view. Harsh breathing and the slap of bare feet on hard-packed earth rang through the air as they drew nearer. Thomase was in the lead, Lugh and Fynn following hard on his heels.
“Come on, Martyn!” Liss clasped her hands against her chest.
Personally, I didn’t think Martyn was likely to catch the others. He was near the back of the group, along with one of the scrawniest Cretney boys, looking as though he’d soon keel over into the bushes.
As the lads scrambled toward the tailor’s shop—the tiny building declared as the finish line—I was sure for a moment that Thomase would win. But then he tried to elbow Lugh in the ribs to ensure his victory.
Lugh shoved him. He’d always loathed cheaters. They landed in the dirt together, a tangle of limbs punching and kicking. All the frustration and sorrow both lads had endured thanks to the sea seemed to be pouring out as they struggled. I winced as Lugh landed a blow that was sure to give Thomase a black eye.
Fynn flew past them, making my heart skip as he breezed into the lead. But Adam Radcliff, another of Mally’s former sweethearts, darted ahead at the last second. He slapped his hand against the wall of the tailor’s in the space of a blink before Fynn rammed the building with his shoulder.
While the crowd applauded, Ms. Katleen presented Adam with the bonnag. As a girl tossed flower petals, Mally glided over to her side.
“I’m glad that’s done,” Liss muttered, leaping to her feet and smoothing her dress. “I’m going to check on Martyn.”
Fynn dropped into Liss’s vacated seat. Dark patches soaked Da’s old suit. Mam had made her best effort to hem the garments to Fynn’s lean body, but it was a haphazard job.
“That was interesting,” he panted, slicking back his disheveled hair. “I’m surprised that idiot didn’t try to trip me instead of your friend.”
“Oh, I’m not,” Cat said, nudging me with her shoulder and pointing to the spot where several lads were attempting to pull Thomase and Lugh apart. “That Boyd lad is nothing but trouble. Handsome trouble, though.”
I groaned, but Cat didn’t appear to hear. She turned, splashing cool water from the fountain on her face. “I’m going to see if I can grab a piece of the bonnag to put under my pillow. Want to come, Bry?”
I glanced at Fynn and shook my head. “I’ll just watch.”
“You don’t want to dream of your future husband tonight?”
“I don’t want to dream of anything. I’d welcome one night of uninterrupted sleep.”
“I do!” Grayse jumped up from her seat and reached for Cat’s hand. They hurried to join the group of girls gathered around Adam and Mally.
When Cat and Grayse were out of earshot, I whispered to Fynn, “It’s a silly superstition.” He arched his brows. “Not that all superstitions are silly. Some, as we know, are quite real.”
Fynn nodded gravely and leaned against me. I stiffened, my heart quickening, and as though he sensed my discomfort, he pulled away. That only made me feel worse.
As we listened to the shouts of girls vying for a piece of the dreaming cake, I prayed the happy sounds wouldn’t turn to screams when dusk fell on the wedding feast.
Though the girls’ struggle was usually a spectacle worth enjoying, I kept my gaze trained on the hill to the north, hoping to see a gray-haired figure ambling toward the gathering. But Morag’s foot must have been bothering her. Or else she didn’t want to brave the harsh tongue-wagging of the townfolk.
When Mally announced supper, everyone claimed their seats. Fynn and I hurried to the table where Mam and Da were seated, the Gills beside them. Da commanded one end of the table, and gestured for Fynn to sit at the other.
“Is that wise, Peddyr? Letting a murderer preside over your family’s meal?” Mrs. Gill demanded, her jowls quivering. Her round face had seemed so friendly when I was small, though that was a long time ago.
Fynn drew out his chair and sat without so much as a glance at Mrs. Gill, but Da frowned at her. “That’s a mighty strong word to throw around without proof, especially at a wedding.”