Page 136 of Silver in the Bone

I hopped up onto the fence beside him, turning to face the tower. “Were you with Bedivere? Did you ask him if the stories about Arthur going to Annwn were true?”

“Oh, are we still working together on this?” he said. “Mind filling me in on whatever your midnight meeting was about first?”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering my shock from earlier. “After you tell me why you ratted me out to Bedivere for searching the under-paths.”

“It made me feel bad to keep lying to him when he was helping me,” Cabell said sharply. “And answering the questions you wanted answered. Maybe if you’d ever thought to tell me what was going on, I would have given you a heads-up.”

I released a soft breath.

He was right to be upset. I should have tried to find him, to make sure he was aware of all the pieces of this story finally shifting into place. I would have been hurt too.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Tonight happened so fast, and I wasn’t thinking. Your sister can be an idiot sometimes too, you know.”

“Runs in the family, of course.” Some of the stiffness in his posture eased. “What happened, though?”

He stared down at his boots as I recounted the story, only nodding now and then, as if he’d suspected some of it himself. I wondered at that, but worried more about his utter lack of reaction to hearing about the ritual.

“What do you think?” I asked him. “If Neve can help them pull it off, it could be the answer to everything. It could fix you once and for all—it could make everything right.”

“Fix me.” His lips pressed into a bloodless line. “Yeah.”

I opened my mouth to clarify what I meant, but backed off when I saw the way his shoulders hunched. I really was an idiot—it was way too soon after losing the trail of the ring and enduring another transformation to try to lift his spirits. There were only so many times you could get your hopes up.

“You really think a sorceress could perform the ritual?” he asked. “Their magic is as treacherous as they are.”

For a moment, I was speechless. “We’re talking about Neve here. Neve, who loves cat drawings and fungi and learning and created a spell of pure light. Why would you say that?”

Cabell blew out a hard breath through his nose. “You’re right. Neve is different. I just keep thinking ... the sorceresses are responsible for all of this. None of this would have happened without them killing the druids.”

Including, my mind filled in, Nash’s death.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. “Cab ... do you want to go back home? We can leave all of this behind. I’d do it in a heartbeat for you.”

He didn’t respond. The leather of Nash’s old jacket creaked as his arms tightened over his chest, and his fists clenched in the material.

“Do you remember,” he said after a while, “that night in the Black Forest when Nash put on a whole shadow play retelling the story of King Arthur’s final battle?”

I laughed despite myself. “God, he had the most horrible sound effects for the battle. His dying-Arthur voice was pretty dismal, too.”

Cabell hummed in agreement.

It was a rare telling of the Battle of Camlann; Nash had never liked endings, especially when his heroes died. After Arthur had left to fight on the Continent, his nephew Mordred usurped the throne, forcing his return to Britain. The battle mortally injured Arthur and killed nearly all of the remaining knights. Only Bedivere was left to accompany the dying king to Avalon.

I rubbed at my arms, trying to ward off a chill. The Children, at least, were quieter now that the brief daylight was coming.

“What made you think of that?” I asked.

“Being around Bedivere, I guess. Wondering how much of the story is true, and how much strength it took for Bedivere to stay here all these years.” Cabell swallowed. “Do you think Nash regretted his choice to look for the ring?”

“Nash never regretted anything in his life,” I reminded him.

“That’s not true,” Cabell said. “He always regretted leaving you that morning. When the White Lady called out to you. I’ve never seen him so scared.”

The mark over my heart ached, burning with its own cold, as if to answer.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Nash,” I admitted. “Not that I want to, but I feel his presence.”

“Yeah?”

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