Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(95)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

“Then I’ll go too,” Neve said. “Neither Tamsin nor Emrys would lie about something as important as this.”

 

Caitriona bowed her head. “If you wish.”

 

“That’s what we were doing here,” I said, turning back to Neve. “Now, why were you waiting for Olwen?”

 

“Because I had a question of my own,” Neve said, retrieving the book she’d left on the table. “Why haven’t you attempted a ritual cleansing of the isle?”

 

Caitriona’s lips parted, but she was interrupted by a shuffling sound outside the infirmary door. Olwen quickly bundled the vessel away into its basket, and when it was out of sight, Caitriona opened the door.

 

Bedivere stood a short distance away, scratching at his gray beard. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked indecisive.

 

“Sir Bedivere,” Caitriona said. “What’s amiss?”

 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I let my worry get the best of me,” he said. “I only wondered if the interlopers needed escorting back to their rooms to put an end to the evening’s wanderings.”

 

Caitriona gave a faint smile. “You are too kind, but we have the situation in hand.”

 

“Come in,” Olwen urged him. “This conversation affects you as well, and we’ve need of your wisdom.”

 

My grip on the table tightened, just a little bit, as the old knight entered. Emrys strayed closer to me, his hand warm and soothing as it moved over my shoulder and ghosted down the ridge of my spine.

 

“Neve was just asking why we haven’t tried a ritual cleansing of the isle,” Olwen supplied.

 

The knight made a slow lap around the room as she spoke, stopping abruptly when she mentioned the ritual. I couldn’t see his face but could feel the burn of his eyes behind me.

 

“Yes,” Caitriona said, staring at Olwen. “And what a remarkable coincidence that the book describing the ritual found its way back to the library, where anyone might have stumbled upon it.”

 

“Indeed,” Olwen said serenely. “Truly remarkable are the workings of the Goddess.”

 

“And the scheming of Olwen,” Caitriona muttered.

 

“What does the ritual do?” Emrys asked.

 

Neve opened the heavy book to a page marked with ribbon. “When dark power stains the land and hope retreats from shadow—sounds like a place we’re all acquainted with, doesn’t it?”

 

“It’s painting a familiar picture, yes,” I said.

 

“The isle must be restored through the invocation of the maiden, young and blooming, waking that greater power which ever slumbers in the mists,” Neve read. “Only Her renewal shall drive out all that is cursed and ailing within the soil and those who walk upon it, for there is no power greater than rebirth.”

 

My pulse stammered in my veins.

 

“Is that saying what I think it is?” I croaked out.

 

“Yes.” Neve met my gaze, determination blazing in her eyes. “This ritual wouldn’t just heal the land—it would break every curse within it.”

 

 

 

 

 

Every curse.

 

Not just the one upon the land and the Children of the Night. Every curse.

 

Even Cabell’s.

 

Neve must have seen those thoughts play out over my face, because she nodded, fueling my hope. Bedivere came around the worktable to face us, his expression inscrutable.

 

“It seems to be saying that the isle has to be purified through a kind of rebirth,” Neve said. “This ritual summons the Goddess back to the isle to restore it to a new cycle of life.”

 

She and Emrys blurred at the edges of my vision as I looked from Olwen to Caitriona. A burning desperation rose in me again, and I didn’t fight it. I was beyond caring. “Why haven’t you done it, then?”

 

Olwen was uncharacteristically silent, her face turned toward the window of her infirmary.

 

“Neve has not told you what is required for the ritual,” Caitriona said.

 

The attention of the room swung back toward the sorceress. Neve glanced at Caitriona before reading aloud. “Join hands with your Sisters, and be whole of heart and power once more. Await the full blessings of the moon to bring forth Her three gifts entrusted to you, and cleave yourself to Her anew with blood and mist.”

 

She looked up as she finished, brows lowered in thought.

 

“What did this person have against writing clear instructions?” Emrys asked.

 

“Viviane transcribed the messages of the Goddess that came to her in dreams,” Olwen explained.

 

“But when you break it down, it all seems doable,” Neve said, turning to Caitriona. “The incantation is here in the book, and you must know what she means by the ‘three gifts.’ What’s the problem here?”

 

“We are not whole of power,” Caitriona said. “We need nine sisters to attempt the ceremony.”

 

Neve’s face went ashen as she understood what I didn’t. “And while Flea was called by the Goddess, she hasn’t come into her magic yet. That’s why your High Priestess lived so long, isn’t it? Why the magic of her vow wouldn’t allow her to pass into her next life?”

 

“We will not be whole of power until then, whether it be days or years,” Caitriona said. “It weighs heavily on Flea’s heart, but it is not her fault. And we lack one of the three gifts besides.”

 

Neve tilted her head in question.

 

“The wand and chalice are with us, but the athame, our ritual knife, was lost many years ago and no amount of searching has brought it back.”

 

Bedivere drew in a harsh breath, but said nothing. He fiddled with a pair of shears hanging from a hook on the wall. My gaze lingered on him. If it had been anyone other than the chivalrous knight, I would have called the flicker of emotion that crossed his face guilt.

 

“Couldn’t a new athame be made in the forge?” Neve asked.

 

Caitriona and Olwen looked horrified at the thought.

 

“Why not just see what happens?” Emrys asked. “What do you have to lose at this point?”

 

“Please . . . ,” I breathed out, the sting of hope, the lance of knowing better, almost stealing the words from me.