He holds the scroll out to Sage in offering. Once she takes it, he continues, focusing on me again. “I knew Kieran and Mara had possession of the torque. Someone from the House of Morrígan stole it several hundred years ago, believing it belonged with their House. I suspected that it would emerge with the arrival of our young Sage—though I had no idea it would happen so quickly, which is why I was surprised to see it. But I knew Kieran would have made sure he was the one who placed it when the time came.” He looks at Sage. “He has designs on you, princess. He thinks their House can re-create the past, control all the cards in this. What are your thoughts about him?”
When she doesn’t respond, he adds, “You are afraid of your feelings, I see. And this is why you allowed Faelan into your dreams?”
She nods.
“The blood memories are causing a problem,” I say, trying to clarify. “Do you think Kieran is responsible for them being implanted?”
Marius shakes his head. “I doubt he’d have the foresight. Kieran knows a lot of details about the Bond between his brother and Queen Lily, and I’m sure he’s built it up in his head as his birthright to own Sage’s powers as the King of Ravens owned Lily’s. But it’s all fantasy. The boy is deluded.”
“What can we do about it, though?” I ask. I don’t want to ask the question roiling in my head: What if he wins her over? I can’t voice that concern in front of Sage and make her think I don’t have faith in her. But I know Kieran.
“There is a spell in the scroll that can help,” Marius says. “It will aid in the assimilation of the memories and allow for the implant—if there is one—to fade faster.”
“How long?” Sage asks.
“Months rather than years.”
She looks down, turning the small scroll in her fingers. I know she’s thinking of the dreams, of living all those moments of Lily’s struggle, the pain, the sorrow. And eventually the madness. Thinking she’ll be overwhelmed by it for months.
“I’ll check in by phone tonight,” Marius says. “I need updates every day, Faelan. This new revelation needs to be monitored. Keep her safe from it.”
“Yes, sir.”
He turns to Sage, reaching out to gently touch her slumped shoulder. “Don’t lose heart, young Sage. You have much to contribute to our world. You could find a home here with us, a family, someone to trust. If you wish.”
THIRTY-FIVE
SAGE
I really don’t want to go back to the Cottages. The closer we get, the harder it is to breathe.
I should be relaxing into the idea of finding a way out of this now. My problems are all solved: my power is contained, I won’t hurt anyone, the dreams will eventually be gone. Yes, I’ll have to deal with them for a while, but I can do that anywhere. There’s no reason to stay and be tortured by this crazy Emergence choice anymore—because how does a person choose their destiny in one week? That’s ridiculous.
And I could get free from it tomorrow if I wanted. Be back to depending on myself again. Simple.
But deep inside, I know that I won’t. I won’t leave this time. I won’t run.
The old me is seriously pissed, and confused. I can’t understand why I’m not willing to leave this behind all of a sudden.
“What’s going on, Sage?” Faelan asks as we leave the 10 freeway and merge onto PCH.
I’d like to know the answer to that myself. I watch the silver blue of the Pacific appear beside him and swallow the rock in my throat. We pass shops, beaches, houses, and I can’t find a way to say what I’m feeling.
“What, Sage?” Faelan asks again, his tone growing tense.
I shake my head. “Can we stop?”
“What?”
“The car.”
“Why?”
“Stop the car!” I snap, shocking myself. And him.
He steers the Audi to the side of the road, pulling off at a vista point and parking so we face the ocean. He turns off the engine. Then he watches me cautiously as several seconds of silence pass. When I can’t take it anymore, I open the door and get out, walking to the edge of the bluff and trying to get oxygen into my lungs. I gulp the sea air and swallow my rising tears.
The crunch of rocks and dirt underfoot sounds behind me.
The ocean rages below, and the salty mist clings to my skin as the breeze carries it past.
“I don’t want this,” I whisper, to the sea, to Faelan, to my goddess mother, wherever she is. “I don’t want to be this.”
Faelan stays quiet beside me, staring out at the water, the wind tousling his hair.
“I’ve been wanting to run away,” I confess. He doesn’t respond, so I add, “I was pretty much out of here as soon as I learned to get my powers under control.” Shame fills me, and I have no idea why.
Maybe because I’m a coward.
“Where do you plan to go?” he asks, surprising me.
I shrug.
“You know they’ll find you, right?” he says. “Next time it’ll be Kieran who takes you under his wing.” He turns from the water to face me. “Is that what you want?”
“No!” I say quickly.
“Then what do you want, Sage?”
I can only shake my head as my throat goes tight. Because I don’t know. What Marius said before we left his office hit me hard. My whole life all I’ve wanted is a home, peace, safety. I want to be able to trust someone.
But I don’t even think I’d know how to do that. How can I ever be sure it’s real?
Faelan touches my wrist, and I look down as his fingers slide over my palm and weave through mine. I stare at our joined hands, and everything inside me settles. I look back out at the water and take in a shaky breath. Release it.
Then I lean over, resting my head on his shoulder. Together we watch the ocean churn.
The sun is setting in bright orange and violet by the time we get back to the house. We part ways silently, Faelan going to his cottage, me to mine. We haven’t said anything more, but nothing needs to be said. Marius put the offer on the table, an offer for a family, for a home. Faelan echoed it in his own way. Now I just have to decide what to do with it.
I set the small scroll on the coffee table next to the one that Faelan gave me. And I notice something sitting beside the ring left from my morning cup of coffee. A black velvet bag.
I stare at it, not wanting to touch it. I know with sharp clarity why it’s there and who it’s from.
I shouldn’t know so definitively, but I do.
The bag is sitting on a black envelope with a silver seal. It’s tied with a satin strap, diamonds on the ends. I pull the envelope out from under it and turn the square over in my hands. The seal is pressed with a complex design of Celtic knotting, a bird at the center: a raven. I bend it and it makes a satisfying snap.
A silver ribbon spills out of the envelope, a large rusty key tied to the end. When I tug on it, the paper contents pull smoothly from the envelope. I study the key as I unfold the black paper; it looks Victorian, like something out of a Bront? novel. But then I swallow a gasp as I realize the paper’s not just paper. Small silhouettes of birds and trees and swirls are cut out in an intricate piece of artwork to create a frame coated in gold leaf.
At the center, in proud silver script, it says:
My Love,
A small token from the House of Morrígan: a villa in Spain, fully stocked and ready for your pleasure. The steward will contact you in a day or so with the paperwork. Whatever you choose for your future, it’s yours with our affection.
The sunrise is breathtaking over the vineyard.
Additionally, this bag attached carries a personal gift, a small token from me. I hope to have a chance to explain its meaning soon.
K.