Page 122 of Crown of Tides and Fury

If fighting was necessary, wasn’t I better prepared?

He seemed to read my thoughts and shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

My robe was wet and I glanced down. My hand was still bleeding and a long trail of blood marred the perfect pinkness of my robe.

Flann noticed it too and met my gaze.

“It dripped on the lid,” I whispered. “That’s what set it off.”

Flann grabbed my arm and blinked at me for a long time. “No one can open the boxes but the Fae King,” he whispered. “What if ye’re…a relation?”

I chuckled quietly. “That’s not funny,”

He held up a finger and pressed his ear against the wood. After a minute, he shook his head. “Nothing moving. Nothing trying to get out of that box.”

“Maybe it’s still sealed and whatever it was can’t get out. Or maybe it’s a portal to theMuireach.” I grabbed his hand. “What if we can get through?”

Flann straightened. “We’ll learn nothin’ by standin’ here.”

I turned away to go wake Wickham, but Flann pulled me back. Before I could protest, he opened the door again. He cocked his head and I strained to hear any little movement, then gave me a wink and went inside, waving for me to follow.

Wickham is going to kill us.

Look on the bright side, Flann said in my head, reminding me of his and Brian’s talent for telepathy.He can’t kill us if this thing kills us first.

* * *

The ceilingstill glowed from the ambient lighting. Because no bulbs were directed at the floor, there were no shadows around the boxes themselves—black squares that might or might not be part of the plaid in the carpet.

If I’d imagined the box jumping, Flann wouldn’t have backed away with me.

With each step, I expected some sort of reaction, so I remained in flight mode. Flann repeatedly glanced over his shoulder to see where I was. Maybe he worried he’d mow me down if he ran for the door.

I relaxed a little when we reached the boxes and nothing had happened.

Flann cleared his throat. Nothing happened.

He stomped his foot. Nothing happened. “Yer turn, lass.”

“What do you want me to do, bleed on it again?” The sound of my voice made no difference either.

“Aye, just that. Press yer blood to it. But wait!” He hurried to the bar and grabbed an extra knife and scabbard that had been sitting by the wall for months.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

He laughed. “Sorry, lass.”

He stood beside me while I squatted and reached out my hand. Blood no longer dripped from it, but the outer edge had plenty. I’d squeezed my robe to stop the bleeding, but my skin was far from clean.

I pressed the messiest part against the top. Because the box was sealed all around, there was no telling which side was truly the lid. Maybe there wasn’t one.

Nothing happened.

I laid the actual cut against it. “Anybody in there?” I prayed nothing would answer.

“Perhaps it needs fresh blood.”

“Oh, that’s cheery,” I said, but I squeezed my wound just the same. A tiny drop leaked from the edge and I pressed it against the box. It jumped under my hand, but I kept pressing. The top of the box slid a quarter of an inch to the side, then stopped. Flann’s heavy breath was the only sound in the room. I wasn’t sure I was breathing in the first place.

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