A few hours ago, a very stiff alfar named Ira, according to the badge on his shirt, explained where I’m supposed to stand and what the order of things will be. For such a huge deal, it seems to be a fairly simple process.
Faelan stands off to the side, waiting for me to enter the courtyard before he joins me. The moment is supposed to represent my entrance into the world alone, according to Ira.
The crowd on the other side of the courtyard appears to be large, but it’s difficult to tell from where I’m standing. I know Kieran is out there somewhere. And Aelia, who was very annoyed that the priests chose to use the ancient wardrobe for this ceremony rather than a modern one. She couldn’t help me accessorize because I was only allowed to wear my torque, so she helped me get this toga thing to look a little less awkward by tying it with a golden cord.
A hum begins in the distance, and five robed druids, male and female, walk forward, holding torches aloft, a wordless song droning from them. They weave through the crowd, their voices rising and falling, sending the eerie vibration through the courtyard. Once they enter the stage, each takes their spot behind a House on the pentagram.
The envoy to the Cast steps forward onto a raised platform off to the side. He’s clothed in robes similar to the priests’ but his are pure white, unmarked by stitching or design. “We gather to welcome a new spirit to the fold,” he says to the onlookers. “The second Daughter of Fire will raise the level of the House she claims. She will be a gem for the one who holds her.” He turns toward my place in the shadows. “Daughter of Fire, come forward. It is time for your naming.”
My pulse picks up. My feet are stuck.
Just one step at a time, Sage.
I move, my whole body shivering as I walk into the moonlight and enter the courtyard.
The crowd stirs, and I stand straighter, lifting my chin as I step onto the raised platform beside the envoy.
“Kneel, fire child,” he says.
I obey, trying to ready myself for what he’ll say.
“The Cast that watches over you has chosen a title for their new ward.” He places his palm on my head. A surge of heat washes over me, and my skin shimmers, gold light pulsing up my arms. He continues, “You are to be Princess of Hope and Morning, your life symbolizing rebirth for us all. As fire destroys, it also cleanses and readies the earth for new growth. So it shall be with you.”
My breath catches at his words as they hit me, soaking in. And the weight in my bones from the last two weeks—the last eighteen years of my life—seems to lift off me.
“Now you choose, child,” he says. And he holds out his arm, ushering me forward.
I breathe in and step off the platform, walking toward the circle. Faelan joins me as I approach. But I pause for a moment, coming to the edge of the painted blood circle. I look to Marius, and he bows his head slightly. I give him a small nod in return.
I think of my choice, how much it will mean to so many. How I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to do the thing that’ll hold the most value. But as much as I feel like I’m a part of this new world now, the core of who I am is simple: I’m a girl who’s looked her whole life for one thing.
Just one.
I reach out for Faelan’s hand, and he offers it easily.
This. This is what my heart wants more than anything: family and trust. And now that I’ve found it, I’ll protect it. I’ll protect it with my life, my heart, even my soul.
I give Faelan a small smile and squeeze his hand, wishing I could say out loud what I’m feeling. Then I look across the circle at Princess Mara, and our eyes meet. My smile grows as hers fades.
Because I see it now. She’s afraid.
Of me.
And with sudden understanding, I know how to make her pay.
I let Faelan’s fingers slip from mine and step into the circle, staring straight at her, feeling Lily surface, my sister’s rage and my rage mingling, sending a sheen of fire across my palms. So much was stolen. So much . . .
But I can claim it all back, everything—the lost years, the lost blood. I’ll rip it from her bony fingers.
I watch her unease from across the circle, and my own thirst for justice grows. My need to stop her, to protect what I’ve found here.
I know what she loves. I know what I can steal. And I know I’m not alone once I begin this.
So I step toward her, keeping my eyes locked with hers. As loudly as I can, I announce, “I claim Morrígan.” Then I smile and whisper sweetly so that only my new princess can hear: “You hurt my family, bitch. Your crown is about to be mine.”
EPILOGUE
KIERAN
What was she thinking? Fool girl.
I hurry down the hall toward the library, breaking the lock and opening the door with a wave of my hand when I’m still several yards away. Mara will return any minute with her entourage in tow, feeling vindicated, thinking she’s won. I’ll need to take precautions, begin to change my plans—to what, I have no clue. But I certainly can’t start a war in the House now, not with Sage in the crosshairs.
I’m going to throttle that bastard Faelan for giving the girl so much bloody free will.
Once I’m in the library, I shut the door behind me and call out, “She’s gone and done the unthinkable, brother.”
The raven swoops down from above, landing on the desk lamp. It screeches and pecks in my direction. I know my brother is in there somewhere behind those black eyes. I haven’t managed to find a way to understand him since Mara found him three months ago and held him here, but I’m hoping he’ll finally understand me.
“I broke the spirit tether,” I say as I move to the stained-glass window, opening it and revealing the night sky. “The counter spell will only last a minute or two, so you need to go. Now. Time’s run out, no more foolishness. Mara will be on a tear.” I’ve tried to get him to fly away several times, but he remains in this room, imprisoned by our sister. I don’t understand it. No matter how many times I’ve found him an escape, he stays.
A foolish part of me wonders if he’s protecting me from her wrath—if he escapes, she’ll know I’m the one who released him. But the realist in me is fairly sure that my brother is no longer capable of thought like that. After living inside the raven for so long, his thoughts are those of a bird, rarely more complex than the need for a meal or a shiny bauble.
I’m not sure how Mara discovered him after all of this time—or why she hasn’t destroyed him. I’ve known what happened since the day I found Lily in the glade, surrounded by the pieces of his body. My brother had tucked a note to me in my favorite map, explaining that his raven would house his spirit until he could find another vessel, and Lily would be inside Fionn—though that turned out different than he thought. But I never saw the raven again, until three months ago when Mara brought him to me, triumphant at her discovery. He’s been stuck in those hollow bones and onyx feathers for nearly seven horrible centuries.
Horrible for me, that is. By putting Mara on the throne, he left me without a protector. While he’s been flying around, living out this twisted fae tale, I’ve been in hell.