Page 135 of Silver in the Bone

“I have disappointed you all,” Caitriona said desolately.

“Never,” Bedivere swore, pressing his hand to his chest. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“It is as the High Priestess said,” Olwen told her. “Only deep roots survive harsh winds, and you have kept us steady these last years. We only ever wanted you to see our perspective—that it may be time to open ourselves, and the isle, to a new season, with new ways. The Goddess will meet us there.”

“There is only the way that is written,” Caitriona said. “And the rituals require priestesses to be pure of heart and intention because we are asking the Goddess to use her more powerful magic on our behalf. I don’t doubt Neve’s power, but the High Priestess said that the magic practiced by sorceresses poisons their souls.”

“How dare you—” I began.

Neve put her hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze to cut me off. The hurt had vanished from her face, leaving only deep resolve.

“The Goddess will be my judge,” Neve said, “not a High Priestess who never laid eyes on me. Not even Caitriona of the Nine.”

“Cait,” Olwen started again. “I know the war in your heart, and that you only wish to respect our ancestors and honor the Goddess. But if we do not do what we must to survive, the old ways will not merely cease to exist, they will pass from memory forever. If Neve is willing, there can be no harm in trying.”

“There is harm if it fails,” Caitriona rasped out. “For then we will truly be without hope.”

“No, my lady Cait,” Bedivere said. “We will know we have fought with all our might, and there is only honor in that.”

For a long while, they listened to the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the howling of the creatures in the dead forest.

Emrys was lost in his own thoughts. He finally sat on the table beside me, bracing a hand near my hip. The weight of his shoulder pressing into mine was like a ballast against Caitriona’s words. Unconsciously, his little finger began to stroke my thigh, the featherlight touch turning the skin beneath the fabric hot. Something in me shifted as I realized I wasn’t the only one craving the comfort of touch. The need to feel anchored to something—someone.

“All right,” Caitriona said at last, bowing her head. “We shall try and see if the Goddess will recognize Neve as her own. And if it should come to naught, then may we be forgiven.”

Olwen broke out into a smile, sharing a look of relief with Neve.

Caitriona struggled to rise from the table, accepting the arm Olwen offered. “I will speak to Lowri and the others, then. We will search for something suitable to forge the new athame.”

“You need to explain it to Flea first,” I heard myself say.

They turned to me, surprised.

I swallowed. “It’ll hurt her if she feels like she’s not needed.”

If she feels useless.

Caitriona hovered in the doorway, giving me a long look of what might have been approval. “Yes. I will speak to her.”

Olwen ushered the rest of us out with her. “Until then, no more lurking about. Rest. All of you. By morning, the way—the new way—will be clear.”

I trailed behind the others as we walked toward the tower, trying to work through everything I’d learned. Bedivere wrapped an arm around Caitriona’s shoulder, saying something I couldn’t quite make out about resting. Ahead, Deri was still at work patching and pruning the Mother tree. Emrys stopped to speak to him, pointing out something I couldn’t see.

“Meeting without me?”

I startled at Cabell’s voice cutting through the darkness. I turned, searching for him among the shadows, only to find him leaning against the rickety fencing of the training area.

“There you are,” I said. “I tried to find you earlier. Where were you?”

His arms crossed as I came toward him, and there was a hardness to his expression I hoped was the night playing tricks on my eyes.

“You think people really want to see me wandering around after what happened?”

I knew the sting in his question wasn’t aimed at me, but I still flinched. His words from the stables twisted like a knife in my chest. You promised.

“They know it’s not your fault,” I said. “It was the curse.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down. “I’m sure.”

---