Page 104 of Ulune's Daughter

Protecting their pregnant wife. Which I should be doing, too.

“I know, Charlie. Don’t feel bad for a second.” I look over his shoulder to where Rachel’s still standing by the cave mouth, tears painting her cheeks. “Rach, I’ll call, okay? It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Focus on Evan.”

She nods. “I know you’ll be fine because you’re always fine. A shark god nearly ate you and you were fine. I just want you to be finewithus instead of without us. I missed you while you were on that island in the middle of nowhere.”

I smile tearily. I missed her, too. I missed all of them. And despite what Charlie says—what my own rational mind is telling me—I am being kicked out of their circle. Because I’m a danger to them right now.

I’m a danger to everyone.

“I’ll just be at Bevvy. That’s not the middle of nowhere. And when I get this figured out, we’ll have a girl’s night at my place. All the spicy tequila you can drink,” I tell her. Looking back to Charlie, I say, “Tell Teddy I love her, okay?”

He nods. “This is not goodbye,” he says firmly.

I nod, but it is and I feel it right down in my heart. This is the path less traveled.

And I have to walk it alone.

Chapter33

The Naga’s Reckoning

LAW

Something is wrong with my mate.

She went to England—I followed her through the Fae Ways to ensure she arrived safely at that dank hole in the ground that smells like her friend the Earth-witch—on the night of the new moon. Since she carried a bag of spellcasting components with her, I assumed she went to renew her wards and cast the month’s spells the way many witches do on the Dark Mother’s night.

She returned empty-handed. Silent and sad. Her raven cloak flickers constantly at the edge of my vision. Her blue claws have grown out another inch, long enough that they clack against everything she touches. The purple circles under her eyes weren’t there when she left. They grow deeper and darker in the days that follow.

I don’t know what happened in England. She hasn’t spoken to anyone about it. She barely speaks to anyone at all. She has cursory phone calls with her friends Teddy and Rachel every few days, assuring them she’s fine. Which she’s definitely not. She’s cool and distant in her classes and at the exhibit’s general opening. Even the presence of the Californian interloper, talking up his nonexistent contribution to her discovery, fails to rouse her fire. I make an appearance, masked and blue-haired. She allows me to escort her all night but says few words to me. She kisses my cheek and says goodbye at the end of the night before she goes home alone.

Her goodbye feels final in some way I do not understand.

She clings to Whitey. That’s my only hope that she isn’t ailing or injured in some way I cannot sense. Wherever she is in her apartment, she calls me and cuddles me in her lap. Sometimes, she cries silent tears into my fur.

I stop attending classes. I do not return to Cait House or the den or even attend Ivywhile as planned. I hole up with my mate, tending to her in the only way I know how.

I purr incessantly, trying to soothe her.

She no longer mounts me in the night. She hasn’t used my gift to find the library. She hasn’t prepared for the Hallow. She stands for hours, day after day, week upon week, in her garden, staring into the air above her spring as her cloak of raven feathers flickers, flickers, flickers in a breeze only she can feel. I can’t see what she sees. I can only feelmovement. A great rising. But where? And of what?

While I turn in useless circles, unable to think of a way to lift the pall from my mate, her friends finally take action. Three days before All Hallow’s Eve, Jane Serpa and Carrie Prince knock on Kellan’s back door. A wagon full of apples, pumpkins, and tree branches floats behind them.

Kellan cuddles me to her breast when she goes to answer the door. She doesn’t invite them in.

Jane pushes her way inside, taking me from my mate and passing me to Carrie.

The cobra-shifter glares at me. “You’re not helping,” she tells me, before dropping me unceremoniously to the floor.

I land on soft paws and glare at her. Does she think I don’t want to help? I cannot abide seeing my mate so sad, so diminished. But she won’t speak to anyone. I have no idea what’s happened or how to help. What am I supposed to do?

Jane hugs Kellan, then moves around her into the kitchen.

“Jane—” Kellan begins.

“I’m ignoring whatever protest you’re about to make. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on, that’s fine. But I’ve known you for a long time, Kells. I know when something is wrong. And I know you’ll work through it in your own time. In the meanwhile, we’re going to make pies and weave trees of life so you’re ready for the Hallows. You’re not neglecting the Mother just because you’re having a meltdown.”

My mate wipes her eyes. I rush to her and pat up her legs, purring. She picks me up and strokes me, burying her face in my fur.

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