Page 69 of Across an Endless Sea

“Silence,” she hisses. “I chose you, Caedmon, son of Liana, daughter of Reyni. No one else. Youwilllisten to me before you cast what I have given you aside, along with whatever honour you still have.”

Her fury reaches across the space between us with the force of a rockfall, silencing the chimes completely. It shakes the blackness, burns it, and fills my nostrils with the smell of ash. That alone wouldn’t be enough to silence me, but the use of my mother’s name is.

I never knew her name.Of course, the Goddess would know it, and now I know my grandmother’s as well. The fae track their lineages by their maternal bloodlines.

“When you accepted my Nicnevin and pledged your troth to her, I showed you what you would receive in return, did I not?” Danu asks. “I warned you how hard your path would be, but I showed you the fulfilling life of purpose and freedom you would gain. Have you forgotten?”

Not so much forgotten as dismissed. I remember every second of the vision she showed me. Of the little boy with the slightest tint of teal to his skin, and his beautiful mother resting safe in my arms. It was a nice dream, but fanciful visions shown to a twelve-year-old are of little use to a male focused on surviving in the darkness.

I blocked it out, because I knew it could never happen. Now that future is lost and buried. It has been since the moment Rose begged me to save her with her eyes and I fucking turned away.

“It is not lost,” Danu whispers, sadly. “But you will earn back the place you so callously discarded when you chose to allow your mate to suffer at your hands, and the hands of your father. I will give you until the great feast of Beltaine to earn the trust of your fellow Guards. Fail to do this, and I will rescind your oath, dissolve your bond to Rose, and allow them to kill you.”

“So generous,” I mutter. “You might as well kill me yourself.”

Rose might be persuaded to forgive me, but the dour knight and her wolf? Those two would rather bathe in molten iron than allow me near her after what I’ve done. Ancestors only know how the mad redcap or the púca will react.

Knowing my luck, they’ll be even worse than their high fae counterparts.

Still, it seems wrong that they’re the ones to judge me and not Rose.

“My Nicnevin will have a different part to play in your curse,” Danu continues, responding to my thoughts. “She’s suffered two deaths because of your actions. A third is almost inevitable, again due to your actions in bringing her to this mountain. Should she suffer a fourth before Beltaine, where I judge you to blame—even in the slightest—then the same punishment will apply.”

So she’s set me an impossible task. Rose is as fragile as her namesake flower. She seems to die on a near daily basis.

A soft brush against my incorporeal form drags me out of my glum thoughts. “It’s not impossible. Challenging, yes, but you have a stubborn streak in you. Once you stop fighting long enough to look past your fear and discover who you are, and what you want, then I am certain you will find your way.”

“I know who I am,” I retort. “I’m the Fomorian crown prince, descended of Balor—”

Danu doesn’t answer, and the blackness somehow becomes darker, more oppressive, until it consumes everything, and I remember nothing more.

Twenty-Two

Bricriu

The brothel collapses behind me in a plume of dust. The shock wave of my magic slams out across the fields, knocking over everyone within a hundred yards. I may not have used such vast amounts of my power in decades, but I still have enough control to destroy the building without damaging the outer wall. There should be some feeling of relief, or even accomplishment, that I’ve finished the task Kitarni gave me, but there isn’t.

This was the last establishment I could find that was stupid enough to keep indentured whores in this city. It’s right on the outer wall, surrounded by vineyards, but I made sure to bring a few soldiers with me. They’re in charge of keeping civilians away from the building.

The owner is dead—though it wasn’t me who killed him—and the whores are lined up a safe distance down the road. Some are getting medical treatment, others simply watching in disbelief as the place they’ve been working at goes up in smoke.

Most of those who were mistreated are covered in their master’s blood, staring at the destruction like they can’t believe it’s real. They’re free.

What now?I wander towards the rows of lush green vines, frowning as I consider it.

I could fly over the wall and start in a new city, check the villages…

That would mean I might not be here when Rose returns—ifRose returns…

It seems like a distant dream that she will. Caed has had her for a week and a half, though it feels so much longer. In that time, the Call has thrummed beneath my skin, and it’s only gotten worse in the last few hours—

My thoughts cut off as a burning pain on my arm causes me to hiss and curl into myself. I spin on the spot, looking for my attacker, but there’s no one there.

When I look down, peeling my hand away to inspect the wound, there’s no blood either.

Just Espen. His coils wind possessively across my forearm, pushing aside the blades which tried to claim his spot in his absence.

Relief at having my nathair back is overshadowed by the fear of Rose being without him. Did she call on him? Or has whatever magic that allowed me to gift him to her simply worn off with time?

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