Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(118)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

Sparks gathered among the bodies, nurtured into small flames by the debris we’d used for kindling.

 

“I will not pray to a goddess who allowed such a thing to happen,” Caitriona said.

 

Olwen looked as if she wanted to reach for her, but in the end, she only bowed her head and sang the prayer alone.

 

“To you, Mother, we send the beloved of our hearts . . .”

 

Her song vanished beneath the whoosh of fire as it caught and spread, climbing higher and higher over the broken pieces of furniture, over the hay, over the bodies, encasing them, just for a moment, in pure light.

 

The four of us stood together, watching as the smoke turned silver against the darkness and merged into the looming mist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caitriona take a step forward, as if to climb onto the pyre.

 

“If we were to die . . . ,” she rasped out. “If we were to die, it should have been together. This pain . . . I cannot bear the thought of never meeting them again.”

 

The air shimmered with heat. Across the sea of flames and smoke, a pale creature stood, watching us. Its horn glinted as it bowed its head. I swiped the ash and grime from my eyes in disbelief and looked again, but only the fire remained.

 

Olwen hooked her arm through Caitriona’s, for comfort or to hold her there, I wasn’t sure. Neve looked at me, wearing her shattered heart for all to see.

 

Them.

 

I hadn’t been able to save Cabell, or any of the others. But I could help them. Take care of them.

 

“Choose me.”

 

The words were raw, born from some deep part of me I’d worked so hard to push back. From the child given away. The girl left behind over and over.

 

“Choose me,” I said again, the words scratchy with desperation as the others turned to me. “Choose me, because I choose you.”

 

“Tamsin . . . ,” Neve whispered.

 

“I can’t be who they were to you, I know that. And I’ve never been a good person,” I said, feeling the heat billow past me. “But I’m trying, and I know that whatever comes, I can stand it—I can survive it—if the four of us stay together. So please, choose me . . . just . . .”

 

I stepped back, pressing my hands to my face, but someone was there to pull them away—Caitriona. Her hands were rough and callused as she gripped mine.

 

“I chose you the moment I discovered you had left for the athame,” she said. “That you risked yourself for all of us was an act of courage and hope. For all my life, as long as I live, I will be your friend. What we vow here, let no one tear asunder.”

 

Olwen and Neve stood on either side of us, and Olwen’s arms were soft and warm as she wrapped them around us both. Neve clasped her hands around our joined ones. Something in me settled then, easing its grip on my chest. My lungs, my heart, my whole body seemed to swell with some greater emotion, as if we had sealed the promise with magic.

 

“If we are together, we will survive this,” Olwen said, her voice breaking. “But we must decide what to do.”

 

“Will you come back to the human world with us?” Neve asked, looking between them. “You could open the path. We’ll cross with you.”

 

I was surprised when Caitriona said simply, “Yes. I think . . . I think there is no other choice now.”

 

“What about the ritual?” I asked.

 

“What of it?” Olwen asked.

 

I knew my shock must have registered on my face because I saw confusion on theirs. “After everything, shouldn’t we try?”

 

“The Nine is not whole. It will never be again,” Caitriona said.

 

My grip tightened around her hands, not letting her pull back. “It is simple. I’m not entirely sure the instructions say what you think they do. Nowhere does it state you have to have a specific number of priestesses to perform the ceremony.”

 

“Join hands with your Sisters, and be whole of heart and power once more,” Neve recited. Her expression turned thoughtful. “The two of you would know better than us, but I can see Tamsin’s point. It may simply be that those performing it have only to be together in purpose.”

 

“Whole of heart and power once more,” I recited. “That just sounds like a poetic flourish to me.”

 

Caitriona was still shaking her head, her face tormented.

 

“It would restore her land at least,” Olwen said. “And purify the mists.”

 

“The Goddess has already left us,” Caitriona said. “She has left Avalon.”

 

“I do not believe that’s true,” Olwen said. “How else would Neve be here? How would Tamsin? They were brought to us for a reason, and I have to believe that this is that reason.”

 

Caitriona wore the struggle plainly on her face, but she was softening to the idea, I could feel it.

 

“Please . . . ,” Olwen begged. “They can’t have died for nothing.”

 

And finally, in the glowing light of the pyre, Caitriona turned toward the tower and led us to the great hall in a silent procession.

 

 

 

 

 

While Olwen and Caitriona prepared the altar in the great hall, cleansing it with incense and oils, Neve and I returned upstairs to change into clean clothes and gather our belongings. The sky was beginning to brighten with first light, and all I could think was that it was the same color as the smoke still rising from the pyre. The smell of the bodies burning turned my stomach, but there was nothing left in it to expel.

 

Neve shut the door behind us one last time and watched as I moved toward the chamber that Cabell and Emrys had shared.

 

I stopped, feeling the words well in me. The story that finally wanted to be told.

 

“You were right,” I told her. “I do have a death mark.”

 

“Tamsin—” she said softly.

 

“Nash and Cabell had left me behind at our camp. They’d gone to search another sorceress’s vault for Arthur’s dagger, and they had no use for me.” I swallowed the knot lodged in my throat. “And then I heard her . . . I heard a voice on the wind. I thought she was calling for me. It was a White Lady.”

 

A woman who’d been murdered by her lover and left to guard her lover’s treasure until she killed another to take her place.

 

“I was just a stupid kid, and I was so angry and hurt they’d left me,” I whispered. “Even though I knew better, even though Nash had told us so many ghost stories, all I could think was She wants me. I know this is going to sound absurd, but . . . there was a part of me that even wondered if she was my mother, and she’d finally come to get me.”