I don’t want to admit it, but with each morning that comes, I’m starting to think that there’s a part of me that is Lily now. I feel her as she sits on the fringes during the daylight, waiting to be set free. I know I should keep her at arm’s length; I should be trying to keep the dreams separate. But I can’t.
Yesterday, I started to ask Faelan where my favorite glass combs had gone. But I don’t have any glass combs. And then I remembered: in my dream the night before, the king had gifted stained-glass combs to Lily and they were missing. She’d asked him if he knew where they were. Just like I almost asked Faelan.
The mistake nagged at me the whole day. I decided I couldn’t keep pretending the dreams were helping. I wasn’t finding out anything new about what happened to the king, or how he died, or why Lily went crazy. I was just letting her play around in my head.
I went looking for Aelia to talk to her about doing the spell, the one I’d walked away from a few days ago. But when I found her, I changed my mind again.
I really should just tell Faelan what I’m feeling, but he’ll worry. And lecture me.
Anyway, he probably knows. He keeps watching me like I might grow horns. I feel like I already have.
I just want to pretend it’ll all be okay. I don’t yearn for Kieran anymore. I don’t care when his gifts come. In fact, I haven’t opened any of the tributes from any of the Houses since my murder party.
Aelia, of course, tells me every day what shows up for me, but I blot the list of gifts out of my head, letting the sound of the pool waterfall muffle her words as much as I can. Apparently, I now have a couple of houses, three cars, and a ton of bags full of things like electronics, soaps, oils, candles, towels, and robes—I could open my own Bed Bath & Beyond about now. I asked her to donate the gifts to a local homeless shelter. What am I going to do with twelve robes, one in every natural fabric known to modern man?
I’ve been invited to several private clubs, VIP rooms, concerts, concertos, plays, sporting events, and even a picnic in Paris by Finbar. I now have box seats at the Met in New York City, season tickets to the Hollywood Bowl, and a regular table at the House of Blues in Vegas.
But I couldn’t care less about any of it. The only thing I feel is the ticking forward of time, shoving me closer and closer to the Emergence. Only two days left. Pressure is building in the house, in Faelan, and in me.
There’s an unspoken shadow over us all with these dreams. Everyone knows they’re affecting me. Marius is the only one who asks me about them, but I’m trying with everything in me to keep them separate, so I usually give half answers.
They all watch me like a doomsday switch is about to go off in my head.
All I want is to get past it and move on. I have no idea what I’ll do when the moment of my Emergence comes, and whenever I try to wrap my mind around it, I just want to get to the after.
This night of destiny can’t come fast enough.
FORTY-ONE
FAELAN
Only two more days. Two more days and she’ll decide. I wish I could say for sure that she’ll choose to stay with her blood House, but I can feel a piece of her holding back, as if it’s waiting. I just wish I knew what she needed.
She hasn’t seen Kieran since the hunting party, and she doesn’t seem to care about it. So that’s a relief. I was sure these dreams would somehow draw the two of them together, but only his gifts arriving every morning say he’s still in the game—there’ve been no personal appearances.
The sun is a quarter of the way across the sky by the time she emerges from her cottage. I’m finishing up my morning swim. I climb out of the pool and grab a towel, hiding a smile as I look at her T-shirt.
It says “A druid is my homey” and has a picture of Aelia’s face on it.
Sage sees me noticing. “My tribute from Lia,” she says with a stiff grin. “Don’t judge, it’s really soft cotton.”
She follows me into my cottage and settles under one of the trees next to the nest as I go into the closet and throw on a T-shirt and dry shorts. When I come back out, she’s staring blankly into the ferns and chewing on her thumbnail.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She lowers her hand to her lap. “Nothing.”
I give her a disbelieving look. She’s been more absentminded the last couple days, and during training she keeps losing focus. It could be stress from the approaching Emergence—we’re all feeling that—but it could also be the dreams. I’ve allowed Marius to take over on that subject—he talks about it with her in the evenings at dinner—but I can see something happening, a distance growing. A part of me is terrified that she’s slowly slipping away.
“You can talk to me about it, Sage.”
She shrugs. “I think I just want to talk about the after-the-day-of-doom stuff. It’ll help me. Like, will I be a high executive? Will I get a plane?” Her snarky smile appears, and the knot in my chest loosens a bit.
“All right.” I wave her into the greenhouse, and we settle in our usual spot under the wisteria. “There are some tests you’ll take after the final ceremony that will help you choose a path. I borrowed the books Aelia used to study for them.”
Sage frowns. “So . . . it’s exactly like being a human. It sounds like college entrance exams. Blech.”
“If college exams are about moving objects with your mind, or making plants grow in seconds.”
She snorts. “Well, I can’t do either of those things. What do you think I’d be good at?”
I’ve actually been considering this quite a bit. It’s my job to make a recommendation at the ceremony, and I knew almost immediately which path would suit her best.
“You’d make a very good tutor and mentor for the younger Otherborn,” I say, watching for her reaction. “Some are brought in at very delicate ages. You could help them feel less alone, to get acclimated in a healthier way, even protect them. It can be a very dangerous time for a newblood. And the long process can be difficult for the more vulnerable.” A reality I know all too well. “You’ve retained your kindness in spite of your difficult childhood. And you have a wildness that draws spirits in and makes them feel safe. It’s a magic all its own.”
She chews on her lip, staring at the ground for several seconds before she looks up at me again. “You really see me like that?”
I hesitate, realizing by the tremble in her voice how much my words mean to her. “Yes,” I say, holding her gaze. “I do.”
She leaves in a bit of a daze, pensive and distant again, so I’m surprised when an hour later she calls me out to join her in the pool, sounding playful. I make excuses for a bit—I’ve been trying to avoid being with her when she’s out there in her bathing suit—but she’s extremely persistent.
Before leaving the cottage, I slide my palm over a cluster of ivy climbing up the wall beside me and steady myself as I pull the buzz of green life into my skin. I need some strength.
I step outside and spot her sliding into the clear water of the pool.