Page 187 of The Mirror of Beasts

I hadn’t tried to go back to the Council of Sistren because I couldn’t figure out a way to check on the coin without the sorceresses finding out about it. And somehow I just knew they’d be about as excited to see me as I was to see them.

It’s all right, I thought. There’s the library. The cats.

I’d assigned myself the project of helping Librarian go through the remains of the library, repairing the structure and sorting through what was left of the collection. Some of the other members of my guild, the ones who hadn’t fallen in with Endymion and the Wild Hunt, had begun to help too, and for the first time, I’d felt myself warm to them, and them to me. But others had simply transferred their membership to another guild, leaving the tragedy behind in a way I never could.

Come on, I told myself. Time to go home.

I glanced at my phone’s screen again, just to be doubly sure I hadn’t missed a message from Neve. But no. The last one on the thread included a selfie of the two of them in the Jardin des Tuileries. Neve was beaming with happiness, but Caitriona’s expression made me laugh each time I saw it—slightly bewildered at what the sorceress was doing with the phone, but enthusiastically trying to please her.

“I hear you take walk-ins?”

The phone slipped from my hand, banging down onto the table. My heart followed, dropping inside my chest with such swiftness, my breath came out as a faint gasp.

He straightened from where he’d been leaning in the doorway, running a hand through his mussed chestnut hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it. He wore jeans and a simple forest-green sweater. As he sat in the vacant chair, the wool of his coat breathed out a bit of the cold still clinging to it, and I was momentarily overcome by the smell of greenery and pine. His mismatched eyes glinted playfully.

“How does this work?” Emrys asked, examining the Celtic Cross I’d done for Franklin. He reached over to spread out the remaining stack of cards. “Should I just pick a few?”

Exhilaration was sparking beneath my skin until it felt like I was floating.

When I could trust my voice, I said, “Pick three.”

He’s here. The words sang in my mind, the sweetest of songs. He’s here.

“Hmmm …,” he deliberated, stroking his clean-shaven chin. The scar there was gone. “Let’s do this one, and this—and yeah, I like this one.”

He rested an elbow on the table, and his chin on his palm, watching me with a soft smile. “So tell me, Mystic Maven Bird, what does Fate have in store for me?”

His past, present, and future were laid out between us, waiting to be told. My jaw worked as I swallowed, fighting to hold back the emotion rising in me. The loneliness. The fear. Hope.

I picked up the first card. “The Hanged Man. It can denote a sacrifice, but also a wait for something that you … that you desire. Perhaps you took your sweet time arriving at your destination?”

“Well, I suppose that’s true, but good things take time, don’t they?” he said reasonably. “Say, for example, you spring up from the herb garden of a powerful council of sorceresses, naked as the day you were born. There’d be a lot of questions to answer, wouldn’t there? And that’s even before you find your mother there, being healed.”

My pulse skipped again. I’d contacted the Mage Robin about Cerys Dye to see if there was a way to help her.

“The Fool,” I said, picking up the second card.

“I probably deserve that, don’t I?” he mused.

“The cards don’t lie,” I told him pointedly. “But here it means you’re presently being offered a new beginning. That you’ve reached the start of a journey.”

His left hand stroked mine, making the card tremble in my grip. His fingers brushed down over my wrist, then back again, tracing patterns in my skin. The warmth of his touch sent sparks racing along my spine. There was a heavy tug low in my belly, urging me to lean closer to him.

“What about this one?” he said, holding up the third card with a little smirk. His brows rose. “I like this one.”

The Lovers.

I closed my eyes, unable to stop the heat and pressure building there. My chest felt like it was cracking open with relief. With happiness. I hated that I was crying, that I couldn’t find the right words to tell him any of it yet.

“What took you so long?” I whispered.

His hands cupped my face, his skin soft and new as he thumbed away the tears spilling onto my cheeks. “Every seedling needs a little time to grow.”

He pulled back a moment, casting a frustrated look at the table between us, and stood. I rose on trembling legs, feeling as if my blood had turned to champagne. His eyes were full of laughter and hunger as he came to stand in front of me.

Sliding his hands back through my hair, he leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine. I released a soft, shuddering breath as he said, “But to tell you the truth, Bird, I’ve never been a particularly patient person, and I may die a third time if you make me wait another second to kiss you.”

“Well.” I angled my face up, letting my lips ghost over his smiling ones. My hands slid around his back, feeling his muscles jump everywhere I touched. “Wouldn’t want that. I’m fresh out of coins.”

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