Page 90 of The Shadowbound and the False God

Her prophecy—every line, every damn word of it, was so deeply layered with meaning, each one as distinct as it was tied to the others. Every new solution to the riddle of the Red Woman unfolded into the next, unfolded into the next, unfolded into the next. It was relentless, and daunting, and yet…so incredibly full of possibility.

As for revenant spring—maybe it wasn’t only Kael that Aisling was meant to bring back. Maybe it was Merak’s lost magic, too.

She was, as before, exactly where she was supposed to be, and had done exactly what she was supposed to do. But Rodney was right when he’d lectured her: though the prophecy told her the end of the story, she was the one writing the book, and she was the one turning its pages.

Elasha halted when she came upon the group rounding the corner before the throne room, dropping the basket she carried as her gaze landed on Raif. She said nothing, but her breath hitched audibly as she dipped her head. Raif’s eyes fell to her stomach, the slightest crack in his composure. Elasha nodded. Her voice was barely audible when she whispered, “A little girl.”

Raif faltered only briefly before he stepped forward and stooped to pick up the basket. When he offered it back to her, he let his hands linger on hers for a beat before returning to Kael’s side. She stepped out of the way to let them by, but trailed behind when he gave a subtle nod in passing. Aisling tried not to let the apothecarist notice the way she cradled her aching wrist and winced with every swallow.

The throne room was bare, the cavernous space hollow and vast without the swaths of hanging velvet or the greenery or even Merak’s light. Aisling had hoped that they’d returned from Anirith and that they would be awaiting the group’s return. She’d been so eager to explain to the Silver Saints, and to Kael,just what they had brought back with them from Elowas—and that it had been hidden here in the Wild all along. To see Kael stand before them, a distant, distant descendant of the first Light Bringers, would have seemed a beautiful ending to his painful odyssey.

“My king.” A tall male vaulted off the dais, dropping to one knee at Kael’s feet. His eyes were wide and his face ashen as he gazed up at Kael. Aisling couldn’t tell whether he was glad or frightened by their quiet entry. Stunned, either way.

“Eamon,” Kael greeted him. He gestured for the commander to rise.

“You’re—” he started, but Kael headed him off.

“Yes.” Back.He was back. She’d brought him back; this was real.

“I…we did not think it possible. I wasn’t…I swear I wasn’t—” Eamon fumbled his words frantically before cutting himself off and glancing back at the dais. There was a sturdy chair placed beside Kael’s obsidian throne, carved from wood with straight lines and simple shapes. It was not ornate, nor was it nearly as large, but it stood at the head of the chamber just the same. Eamon steadied himself, collected his thoughts, then tried again: “I refused to sit on your throne. I swear to you, Highness—no one has touched your seat.”

“You’ve left the Fifth Company?” Raif demanded, once again Kael’s Captain of the Guard.

Eamon barely stifled a grimace. “I delegated command to my second, for the time being, when the Silver Saints named me their emissary and king regent.”

Aisling’s heart leapt, racing now with excitement. “Is Merak here?”

“They’ve not been here in a long while,” Eamon provided. “They sit in Anirith at the head of a peace council.”

“How long?” The muscles in Kael’s hand twitched, his fingers almost imperceptibly tightening over hers.

Eamon understood the subtext of the question and was reticent to answer. He lowered his gaze. “Over two years, Highness. Just.”

Over two years.Aisling exhaled sharply as the air was forced from her lungs. Over two years in the Wild would have been close to six months on Brook Isle. Six months for Briar to miss her, to wonder whether she’d abandoned him for good. She turned to Rodney, unable to conceal her panic.

“We have to go home.”

“Ash…” He bit his lip.

Eamon cut him off. “The Thin Places remain closed under decree by the Silver Saints. The Veil is yet too weak to risk reopening them.”

Aisling shook her head slowly, back and forth. Back and forth. She had to get back—she had to. Kael moved closer and stilled her motion with one hand on her cheek.

“We will repair it,” he said firmly. “We will find a way, I promise.”

Before Aisling could argue, Rodney took her elbow gently. “Come with me a minute, Ash. I need to talk to you about something.”

Kael reluctantly released her, but kept a wary eye on the pair as Rodney led her away. They stopped on the far side of the chamber beside a towering column. It might have been the same one they’d lingered beside on Nocturne, waiting and watching for the perfect moment for Aisling to approach the king.

“We have to go home, Rodney,” Aisling said again.

“I know you do, Ash.”

You.Rodney was never careless with his words; every one he used, he chose for a reason. Aisling fell back a step.

“We,”she emphasized. “We’ll come back here—we don’t have to stay, but we—”

“Aisling.” Rodney stopped her, shaking his head. She backed away a step further, as though a few more inches of distance might protect her from what he was about to say. She’d been so happy, so hopeful when they’d emerged back into Wyldraíocht. Now, she felt as though everything was unraveling around her.

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