Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(115)
Author: Alexandra Bracken
If he was even telling the truth at all, that familiar voice whispered in my mind. Clever Emrys Dye, always quick to hide and lie.
The thought was enough to leave me raw. I’d told him my truth. I’d told him things not even Cabell knew.
“He is the only one who should feel shame,” Caitriona said, anger simmering in the words. “He deceived us all.”
Olwen stroked my arm, her fingers skimming over the gash she’d hastily rebandaged. “You do not have to keep the thought of him from your heart, but do not let the love in you harden because of him. He was not worthy.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I should have said something of it before, but I did not want to wound him.” Her smile was tinged with sadness. “I do recognize that sword you carry, and I do know its story. Mari told it to me years ago.”
“Then . . . ,” I said. “What is it?”
“I believe that blade is called Dyrnwyn, or White-Hilt. It was forged in Avalon and once carried by a king, Rhydderch Hael,” Olwen explained. “It was said that the blade would burn with flames when held by someone worthy and well born.”
I stared at her.
“Are you certain?” Caitriona asked.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said dryly, but a little laugh bubbled in me at her expression as she realized the implication.
“No, I did not mean that,” she said. “Of course you are worthy.”
“I’m really not,” I said, “and no offense was taken. Should we test the theory?”
I held the sword toward them, hilt-first, but all three stepped back.
“Really?” I asked.
“I don’t want a piece of metal to pass judgment on me,” Neve said, holding up her hands.
“I am content with my own sense of worth,” Olwen said simply.
Caitriona eyed it several moments longer than the others but in the end still turned away. “Tamsin, are you sure you don’t wish for us to follow him? The snow will allow us to track him with ease.”
Neve gripped my hand, watching me. Waiting for the choice to be made.
I could follow Emrys. I could probably even take the Ring of Dispel back before he presented it to Madrigal. The portal might still be open.
But there was the ritual to think of. There was Cabell and Neve and Bedivere, and the priestesses who had become friends even as I’d fought to push them away. There were the survivors at the tower, still fighting against all odds. There was Avalon—the place of beauty and life it could become again.
“No,” I said. “He’s already gone.”
“How does he plan on returning to your world,” Olwen asked, “without any of us there to open the path for him?”
Neve and I exchanged a look.
“About that . . . ,” I began.
Olwen’s eyes widened in wonder at the story of the Hag of the Mist, the offering, and her instructions that the portal could only be used once to go into Avalon and once to return to the mortal world.
“I believe we’ll be able to open the original path back to the mortal world for you, even if the ritual isn’t successful,” Olwen said.
“It won’t fail,” I told her. It can’t.
“Are you angry with us for keeping it from you?” Neve asked, glancing at Caitriona.
Her silvery hair shimmered with the snow falling from the trees. “No, for even now, with your path home open, you have chosen to stay. With us.”
Neve smiled.
Caitriona cleared her throat, turning her back to us. “We should continue on. I do not want the others to worry more than they already have.”
I raised my head and began to walk, letting the chaos in my chest settle and a new calmness take hold. Neve smiled at me when I glanced over, and there was nothing in her warm gaze that was pitying or wary. The quiet stillness of the isle gave me the gift of sudden clarity. An understanding that the pain I’d feared for so long was the very thing that told me I had survived the loss.
We kept pace with one another as the shadows around us deepened to welcome the long night.
We stopped once to rest, giving Olwen the opportunity to check our bandages for signs of infection, but it was only for a few moments.
With the athame back in their possession, they were eager to perform the cleansing ritual, and I was growing more and more eager to get back to Cabell. After what had happened with Bedivere . . . I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling.
Finally, the tower came into view, its highest stones illuminated by the fires still burning in the moat. The lines of Caitriona’s face eased at the sight of it, and she doubled her pace.
But as we emerged through the last stretch of the forest, I found myself slowing.
“What is it?” Neve asked.
“Where are they?” I asked, looking around. Before we left, the Children had formed a ring around the perimeter of the tower, one we should have crossed by now.
“The revenant must have called them to her,” Neve said as we finally caught up to Caitriona on the path. She stood at the tree line, taking in the sight of the tower in the near distance, its ancient stones aglow with flame. Long streams of red flowed down the nearest wall, reflecting the light like silk. Mist lingered over the mile-long path leading down to the moat. The drawbridge, to my surprise, had already been lowered.
The Mother tree looked darker from this distance. Its upper branches were covered in white, masking what little green remained.
Olwen’s steps crunched through the snow behind me, but as she came to my side, she froze midstride. Her breathing grew ragged, the white puffs mingling with the mist. For the first time, I realized I wasn’t just smelling fire smoke. Something bitter underscored it—burned cloth, maybe.
And something worse.
“It looks like they’ve started the celebrations without us,” Neve said, squinting. “I wonder why they used red banners, though.”
And then I understood.
Caitriona gave a hoarse cry, bolting down the hill to the lowered drawbridge. Olwen was close behind her, stumbling through the snow and rocks in their way.
I couldn’t move. The darkness curled around me, pressing down on my shoulders with its icy hands, trapping me in place.