Page 10 of Crown of Tides and Fury

Cold Sheets

Kitch remained outside to watch for Griffon’s return. He stood near a light pole with a red bell mounted on it, and he promised to pull the rope and alert us if anything moved. The clouds had begun to recede, so visibility was much better than it had been while the North Sea had been throwing its temper around.

Or had it been celebrating a little girl’s birthday?

I still couldn’t shake the notion that the waves had been trying to reach her, not to hurt her, but just to touch her. If she was the Third with Mercail’s power, was it she who had subconsciously summoned the waves to cut off access to the tower rock? Or had the North Sea been trying to keep us from taking her back again?

Since the dimly lit restaurant was empty, we moved to a table next to the window so we could all keep an eye on the sky. Annag on one side with Persi and I across from her, and Wickham at the end.

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed it,” I told him, “but Fallon is a Third.”

Annag repeated her excuses for not mentioning it earlier. I remembered her avoiding Wickham’s gaze at one point during our chat in the banquet room, and I’d sensed she’d been hiding something.

Wickham seemed genuinely surprised, which made my stomach plummet. If he didn’t recognize a Third on sight, our humble quest might take the rest of our lives!

“Though my niece showed signs much younger,” he said, “I am not surprised Fallon displayed no traits until now, if indeed, that storm was a hint at her power. However, I would think the talents of a Third would present itself earlier than the typical Muir.”

Annag was only half-listening and slapped her hand on the table. “Yer Ambition fellow. Is that who has my bairn?”

Wickham shook his head. “Nay. His name is Griffon Carew. An honorable Fae with whom we’ve had a…misunderstandin’. I cannae imagine why he hasnae brought her back as yet, but Lennon is right. He willnae harm yer lassie.” After Annag jumped to her feet and stormed outside, he turned to me. “It seems Carew has decided to deal himself into the game.”

* * *

Another hour passedand Wickham was able to convince Annag to go to bed. He went outside to relieve Kitch, who returned to the cottage. Persi and I stretched out on a couple of padded benches, and I was able to sleep, off and on, until staff began arriving for the breakfast shift. No one mentioned Fallon. Thanks to memory manipulation, no one remembered the girl had gone missing, or that she’d been plucked off the top of the tower rock by some winged creature that flew away with her.

Persi and I earned a few smirks for sleeping in the dining room, but the staff probably assumed we’d gotten plastered and couldn’t make it back to our rental.

After a quick change of clothes, I went back to the Sea Witch, pushed my way into the kitchen, and demanded they put me to work. I would end up in a psych ward if I spent one more minute staring at the sea or watching the sky. After I burned a batch of beans—which didn’t belong on a breakfast plate anyway—I was relegated to pouring coffee…for a crowd of primarily tea drinkers.

I had never felt more like a foreigner.

About ten o’clock, a waitress brought me an envelope. “Can ye deliver this to Annag? She’s gone back to her room, poor thing. Must have been quite a party ye had after Fallon was abed.”

I surrendered my coffee pot and took the letter upstairs. I found Annag at the end of a short hall, sitting on the edge of an unmade bed, staring out the tall set of windows that faced east, toward the tower rock.

“They asked me to deliver this,” I said, and handed her the envelope. Then I walked to the window and leaned a hip against the wall. “When Griffon took me flying, he showed me this incredible place in the mountains. The walls were carved stone. Beautiful, really. And he told me it belonged to the Fae King. That he had hundreds of beautiful hideaways all over the world.”

“So ye’re telling me it will be impossible to find my granddaughter?”

“No. I’m saying Fallon is probably being treated like a princess, wherever she is.”

Annag gasped, then crushed the note and envelope in her hands.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, stood, and gestured for me to get out. “Just got a whiff of m’self, is all. I need a shower, if ye dinnae mind.”

“What was the note?”

“Someone sending regrets they cannae come to the party.”

“Last night’s party?”

“Aye. They’re a wee bit late.”

I wasn’t buying it. “Something wrong?”

“More than Fallon stolen by the Fae?”

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