FIFTY-TWO
SAGE
I sit under the trees by the pool and watch the sun rise on the day of my Emergence. The sky is silver as the birds begin to stir. It shifts to pale blue, then a wash of pink emerges as the first rays of sunlight hit the ocean. The dew clings to my skin.
The dream from the night before lingers, and an ache has settled in my rib cage since I opened my eyes. Now I know how it ended. Lily didn’t kill the king, not really. I have no idea what to do about it. Especially today of all days.
Today I choose my path. Last night I packed a bag, in case the path I choose to follow is not to pick one of the Houses at all but to walk away altogether. To become a child of a goddess in hiding.
When I packed the bag, I wanted that option in front of me. But once I woke up, the vision of my king’s death vivid in my mind, I realized I couldn’t go anywhere.
I look down at my hands, knowing they’re not Lily’s. But I feel like I can still see the blood of my lover on them . . . so much blood . . . He showed her how to aid him in pulling his spirit free, in destroying his vessel, placing him temporarily in the large raven, Bran. Poor Lily obeyed down to the last horrible detail.
Until she was a shivering mess, like a crimson-stained ghost in the clover.
My first instinct after waking was to grab a steak knife and find Mara to cut her head off. But that isn’t a plan I pull off in one piece. She’s way too powerful. And it’s clear that she’ll ensure others get ripped to bits along with me.
I have to think of something else.
I hear Faelan’s cottage door open and close, and I turn as he appears on the pathway.
“Good morning,” he says tentatively, like he can sense my mood.
I smile up at him, my insides heating as my energy stirs in spite of my torment. “How’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t,” he says. “I was making sure the antidote really worked for Marius as well as we thought.”
“How’s he feeling?” We gave the cure to him yesterday morning. By evening he was downstairs making pancakes.
“He seems . . . amazingly unaffected. Back to his old self. You can’t talk to him today, though, until this Emergence is over—no demi contact from the Houses until after the ceremony. I don’t count, since I’m your shadow.” His voice becomes unsure at the end. He settles in to sit next to me and his eyes go to the sunrise. “Are you all right?”
I nod, lying.
He turns his attention to the rocks and moss between us. “My job ends today.”
I reach out and touch his arm, moving my thumb back and forth. I want to tell him he’ll always be my protector, but I don’t know that. I don’t know what my life will look like after today. I do know one thing, though. “You’re the one I want beside me,” I say.
He searches my face. A small smile lifts the corner of his mouth.
I lean in to him, resting my head on his shoulder, and hope I can hold on to this feeling—of home.
I stand alone in the shadow of the large stones and watch the representatives of the five Houses walk onto the stage. My heart races as they take their places on the large pentagram painted in the center of the courtyard. Marius of Brighid first, stepping onto the point of fire. Then Gwyn of Lyr, walking forward to stand on water. Beatrix of Arwen next, moving to the point of air. Finbar of Cernunnos, stepping up to earth. And last, Princess Mara, the creature who destroyed my sister and would like to do the same to me, slinks over to her place on the point of spirit, a vision of pale skin, long dark hair, and deadly beauty.
A few hours ago, a very stiff alfar named Ira, according to the badge on his shirt, explained where I’m supposed to stand and what the order of things will be. For such a huge deal, it seems to be a fairly simple process.
Faelan stands off to the side, waiting for me to enter the courtyard before he joins me. The moment is supposed to represent my entrance into the world alone, according to Ira.
The crowd on the other side of the courtyard appears to be large, but it’s difficult to tell from where I’m standing. I know Kieran is out there somewhere. And Aelia, who was very annoyed that the priests chose to use the ancient wardrobe for this ceremony rather than a modern one. She couldn’t help me accessorize because I was only allowed to wear my torque, so she helped me get this toga thing to look a little less awkward by tying it with a golden cord.
A hum begins in the distance, and five robed druids, male and female, walk forward, holding torches aloft, a wordless song droning from them. They weave through the crowd, their voices rising and falling, sending the eerie vibration through the courtyard. Once they enter the stage, each takes their spot behind a House on the pentagram.
The envoy to the Cast steps forward onto a raised platform off to the side. He’s clothed in robes similar to the priests’ but his are pure white, unmarked by stitching or design. “We gather to welcome a new spirit to the fold,” he says to the onlookers. “The second Daughter of Fire will raise the level of the House she claims. She will be a gem for the one who holds her.” He turns toward my place in the shadows. “Daughter of Fire, come forward. It is time for your naming.”
My pulse picks up. My feet are stuck.
Just one step at a time, Sage.
I move, my whole body shivering as I walk into the moonlight and enter the courtyard.
The crowd stirs, and I stand straighter, lifting my chin as I step onto the raised platform beside the envoy.
“Kneel, fire child,” he says.
I obey, trying to ready myself for what he’ll say.
“The Cast that watches over you has chosen a title for their new ward.” He places his palm on my head. A surge of heat washes over me, and my skin shimmers, gold light pulsing up my arms. He continues, “You are to be Princess of Hope and Morning, your life symbolizing rebirth for us all. As fire destroys, it also cleanses and readies the earth for new growth. So it shall be with you.”
My breath catches at his words as they hit me, soaking in. And the weight in my bones from the last two weeks—the last eighteen years of my life—seems to lift off me.
“Now you choose, child,” he says. And he holds out his arm, ushering me forward.
I breathe in and step off the platform, walking toward the circle. Faelan joins me as I approach. But I pause for a moment, coming to the edge of the painted blood circle. I look to Marius, and he bows his head slightly. I give him a small nod in return.
I think of my choice, how much it will mean to so many. How I don’t want to hurt anyone. I want to do the thing that’ll hold the most value. But as much as I feel like I’m a part of this new world now, the core of who I am is simple: I’m a girl who’s looked her whole life for one thing.
Just one.
I reach out for Faelan’s hand, and he offers it easily.
This. This is what my heart wants more than anything: family and trust. And now that I’ve found it, I’ll protect it. I’ll protect it with my life, my heart, even my soul.
I give Faelan a small smile and squeeze his hand, wishing I could say out loud what I’m feeling. Then I look across the circle at Princess Mara, and our eyes meet. My smile grows as hers fades.
Because I see it now. She’s afraid.
Of me.
And with sudden understanding, I know how to make her pay.
I let Faelan’s fingers slip from mine and step into the circle, staring straight at her, feeling Lily surface, my sister’s rage and my rage mingling, sending a sheen of fire across my palms. So much was stolen. So much . . .
But I can claim it all back, everything—the lost years, the lost blood. I’ll rip it from her bony fingers.
I watch her unease from across the circle, and my own thirst for justice grows. My need to stop her, to protect what I’ve found here.
I know what she loves. I know what I can steal. And I know I’m not alone once I begin this.
So I step toward her, keeping my eyes locked with hers. As loudly as I can, I announce, “I claim Morrígan.” Then I smile and whisper sweetly so that only my new princess can hear: “You hurt my family, bitch. Your crown is about to be mine.”