Page 134 of Silver in the Bone

Even Cabell’s.

Neve must have seen those thoughts play out over my face, because she nodded, fueling my hope. Bedivere came around the worktable to face us, his expression inscrutable.

“It seems to be saying that the isle has to be purified through a kind of rebirth,” Neve said. “This ritual summons the Goddess back to the isle to restore it to a new cycle of life.”

She and Emrys blurred at the edges of my vision as I looked from Olwen to Caitriona. A burning desperation rose in me again, and I didn’t fight it. I was beyond caring. “Why haven’t you done it, then?”

Olwen was uncharacteristically silent, her face turned toward the window of her infirmary.

“Neve has not told you what is required for the ritual,” Caitriona said.

The attention of the room swung back toward the sorceress. Neve glanced at Caitriona before reading aloud. “Join hands with your Sisters, and be whole of heart and power once more. Await the full blessings of the moon to bring forth Her three gifts entrusted to you, and cleave yourself to Her anew with blood and mist.”

She looked up as she finished, brows lowered in thought.

“What did this person have against writing clear instructions?” Emrys asked.

“Viviane transcribed the messages of the Goddess that came to her in dreams,” Olwen explained.

“But when you break it down, it all seems doable,” Neve said, turning to Caitriona. “The incantation is here in the book, and you must know what she means by the ‘three gifts.’ What’s the problem here?”

“We are not whole of power,” Caitriona said. “We need nine sisters to attempt the ceremony.”

Neve’s face went ashen as she understood what I didn’t. “And while Flea was called by the Goddess, she hasn’t come into her magic yet. That’s why your High Priestess lived so long, isn’t it? Why the magic of her vow wouldn’t allow her to pass into her next life?”

“We will not be whole of power until then, whether it be days or years,” Caitriona said. “It weighs heavily on Flea’s heart, but it is not her fault. And we lack one of the three gifts besides.”

Neve tilted her head in question.

“The wand and chalice are with us, but the athame, our ritual knife, was lost many years ago and no amount of searching has brought it back.”

Bedivere drew in a harsh breath, but said nothing. He fiddled with a pair of shears hanging from a hook on the wall. My gaze lingered on him. If it had been anyone other than the chivalrous knight, I would have called the flicker of emotion that crossed his face guilt.

“Couldn’t a new athame be made in the forge?” Neve asked.

Caitriona and Olwen looked horrified at the thought.

“Why not just see what happens?” Emrys asked. “What do you have to lose at this point?”

“Please ... ,” I breathed out, the sting of hope, the lance of knowing better, almost stealing the words from me.

“It will not work,” Caitriona said. “We have not been successful in any other ritual since our ranks were diminished—not in blessing the earth, nor clearing the skies, nor freeing the souls trapped within the Children. We are eight, not nine. Until Flea comes into her power, we are not whole.”

Neve made a small noise of frustration, shaking her head.

“Well, you could wait years for that to happen, or you could, you know, hold your nose and ask the sorceress standing right in front of you for help,” Neve said.

I heard myself gasp, but I wasn’t the only one. Caitriona sat heavily on the edge of the table, her face tightening with unspoken emotion.

“Before there were only nine priestesses left in Avalon, there were many,” Neve continued. “I’m descended from one.”

Bedivere lifted his head again, turning to the priestesses. Olwen bit her lip, as if to force herself to stay silent as she looked to Caitriona. The words she’d spoken on the night of our arrival rose in my mind: If I am absolutely certain of anything, it is this: the Goddess led you here to us. All of you.

Caitriona’s long silver braid glittered in the firelight as she turned to her sister.

“You and the others have fought me every step of the way, and it”—she drew in a choking breath—“it is ... not easy to stand against you all alone and feel as if I am difficult—and to be resented ... to be hated for it. I only know what our High Priestess taught me, and she—if I cannot do what she asked of me, then I have failed her.”

“No, my dear heart.” Olwen dropped to her knees in front of Caitriona and gripped her hands. “Never think that. You are our sister. Even when there is nothing left of this world, our love for you will still remain, because there is no power capable of destroying it.”

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