Page 157 of Cathmoir's Sons

“For my part in drawing your sons into this conflict, you have my apologies,” Caileán says softly. She’s sitting beside Law, with her consorts in a tight cluster around her, while the other crow queens perch on the arms of the various couches in their feathered forms. The white crow is in her preferred spot: on Luca’s shoulder.

Cathmoir shakes his head. “They’ve chosen their Paths. You’ve chosen yours. I wish it didn’t lead into such open, direct conflict with the high fae, but ... I’m an old cat.” He waves off the protests that rise around him. “I am. I’ve fought my battles. I’d hoped my sons wouldn’t have to fight their way to their throne but maybe it’s inevitable.”

Law puts his free hand back to where Luca’s standing behind Caileán. Luca grips it. “Thrones are taken, not given. You always told us that,” Luca says.

Cathmoir nods. “Whatever you need to take yours, you have it, my sons.”

Into the silence that follows, I interject. “Evan Lords raised a point that’s worrying me. If the Oak King calls the Darkswerds to defend him, Teddy and Rachel could end up standing against us.”

Caileán sighs. “I’ve considered that. And considered asking Callan, Darwin, and Teddy to stay home?—”

Didrane squawks.

“Yes, I’ve considered that, too, sister,” Caileán says, but neither she nor Luca translate the crow-speak so I’m not sure what she’s responding to. “I think we have to let it play out. No matter what control the Oak King has over the Darkswerds, I can’t believe that Teddy or Rachel would ever hurt anyone I love. I think they’ll just withdraw if it comes to that. But I don’t think it will. I think ... I think it will go another way.”

“I won’t question you, Caileán,” Cathmoir says. “But I will ask that you have a backup plan in case it doesn’t go the way you think it will.”

Caileán winces. “I have a Hail Mary play. It’s very much a last resort.”

Cathmoir tips his head to the side, cat-inquisitive.

“Jou drags Ivywhile down into Hell,” Caileán explains.

Cathmoir’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“What happens to the Oak King?” Allie asks while her husband looks stunned into silence.

“Unrooted from the mortal plane, Jou and I think he’ll burn,” Caileán says.

The four crows caw in agreement.

“What happens to the rest of Ivywhile?” Cathmoir asks, his voice reduced to a whisper.

Caileán and Law trade glances.

“They’ll burn with their king, won’t they?”

“Probably, yes,” Law answers.

“The destruction of an entire court—” Allie begins.

Cathmoir squeezes Law’s shoulder and sits back. “Do what you must.”

Law smiles. “Thanks, Dad.”

Cathmoir rises from his couch and stretches. “Come hunt with an old cat.”

Over further protests that he’s not old, Cathmoir organizes a hunting party. That Law and Luca immediately volunteer is no surprise. That Caileán declines is, particularly after her sisters flap onto the Caits’ shoulders to join the hunt.

Caileán takes my hand and squeezes. “Would you take a bath with me?”

“Of course.”

Caileán hugs everyone before we leave. Law looks confused. “You don’t want to come hunting?”

Caileán kisses him. “Not this time. I’m in the mood for pork, if you see any boar.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Law promises. “Do you want me to stay here?”

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