Page 155 of Cathmoir's Sons

The human nods. When he speaks, blood flecks the corners of his mouth. “I’m neutralizing it. It’s the same. It’s what mycousin O drowned in. It’s what the Oak King sent with Odhrán. It’s what filled the Cup of Dreamless Sleep.”

Caileán’s breath catches. “Rhodes, how?—”

“It feels the same. I don’t know how else to put it into words. It’s what I felt the first time I walked through the exhibit. It’s the essence of bile. A drop of the bitterest blood. It’s mother against daughter. A betrayal that echoes through time and taints everything it touches.”

Silence reigns for a long moment. Then a dozen overlapping questions.

The demon raises his clawed hand. “That’s what drew you to Isla Cedros, Treasure. An’ maybe what’s drawn me, too. My dame was poisoned. Died while she was bearing my clutch. I’ve never been able to prove nothin’, but the Old Man’s Flame’s was a Fire demon. She shouldn’t have been able to poison my dame. I always figured Licyssa had a hand in it. Maybe this is how. Maybe we’re seeing the way she’s moved behind the scenes for a long, long time.”

Caileán cups her hand protectively over the bones. “There’s nothing evil here. Just grief. Terrible, terrible grief. Enough to level mountains and lay waste to civilizations.”

“Maybe that’s enough,” Luca says. “Grief that terrible could be a poison.”

“We return the bones to Mordeh,” Caileán says. “And I beg her to confront the Oak King with us. All of Faery must know what he’s done. How far he’s strayed from the Mother’s Path.”

There are nods all around the table. Phones ping in tandem. I take mine out of my pocket.

Eat me, Jou: When do we roll?

Coach Charlie: Faevengers, assemble!

I show the messages to Caileán and share a chuckle.

“The Bevington contingent is ready,” I say for the benefit of those not part of our group chat. “Luca and I will summon the Cait.”

Caileán squeezes my forearm. “This is not a war for the living. Our battle cry is vengeance. Our soldiers are the shades who suffered for centuries at the Oak King’s hand. They will rise when my sisters and I stand before the Oak King and demand justice.”

My fur bristles. “Caileán, let us stand with you.”

She looks at her sisters. Kathu and Brangwy shrug while Hraena nods. “He owes them their lives, too,” she says.

The crow on Luca’s shoulder chuffs.

“Didrane agrees,” Luca translates. “All those the Oak King wronged must stand against him before the Mother.”

“Very well,” Caileán agrees. She angles her head to look at Rhodes. “Try not to die this time.”

He flips her off affectionately.

“When?” Caileán asks.

Since her question seems directed at Jou, I take the moment to grab another flatbread and touch Luca’s mind.

It’s filled with wind rushing over feathers, the exhilaration of a steep dive with talons outstretched, the sharp caw that freezes prey with fear.

Didrane is teaching me how to be a crow, he tells me.

Just don’t forget how to be a Cait, I respond.

Never. I know I don’t need to tell you this, but we can’t let Caileán go against the Oak King with just her sisters and a bunch of shades. I’d feel better if we had the entire Unseelie host at our backs, but if Caileán won’t raise them, then at least call the Cait. We can’t let her do this alone. That’s the way she’s always done things. Crows are loners. But that’s not the way to confront the Oak King.

I glance at my queen, who is debating something with the demon. My impassioned mate. My powerful, vengeful mate. My pregnant, vulnerable mate.

No, we won’t, I promise my twin. We’ll need the Holly King to get back into Ivywhile. When Caileán retrieves him from Cait House, you and I will call the Cait.

Chapter 44

The Cat King’s Blessing

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