Morrigan's cottage was not equipped for company: she offered me the only bed, which I refused—it was hers, after all. Ronan politely took the floor, where I joined him, and the woman piled enough blankets upon us both that we might as well have been sleeping atop a mattress. Aeden disappeared outside; considering Morrigan's lack of concern and my own exhaustion, I didn't bother asking further. I was surprised to find myself comfortable and somewhat grateful. Despite the lingering unease of being in another's home, I slept late into the next day.

Daylight streamed through the now-open windows, outside which I could see the canopy rustling with the wind. The sky was grey, but we were spared from rain for now. I curled near the fire amidst a veritable nest of blankets, keeping an eye on the flames as Morrigan warmed more stew. It was mostly for Ronan, but she'd remained adamant that the rest of us should eat as well.

"Where is Aeden?" Ronan eventually asked from his place at the table. He'd decided to restock what he could for the four of us before we left; the contents of his pack were strewn haphazardly across the surface. "He'll want food too, no?"

"Probably climbing on the roof like a squirrel." I paused. "Or as a squirrel."

"He tends to wander as he pleases," Morrigan answered somewhat more nicely. "The house's confines bother him, as does remaining in one place for too long. He's still close enough for me to sense his presence, though. As long as he remains within my territory, he'll be safe."

Safe. I frowned. "This Shayne—is he really so dangerous? For someone Aeden badly wants to avoid, I've yet to even see him."

"He... is not one to interfere directly unless necessary." Morrigan sat down, her skirts pooling around her thin frame. She crossed her legs as if posing for an invisible portrait, and I began to rethink my gratitude. "He's old, strong, and persistent. Very set in his desire for structure. After the Ándúr Nimh set into his mind, he has little reserve for boundaries. So aye, he is dangerous. But not always very clever. He's easy enough to predict."

Despite the calculations in her words, her voice remained warm, tinged with sadness. I watched her carefully but saw no sign of deception—it was as if she didn't realise the cunning in her speculation. Perhaps she was sharper than her flowery demeanour indicated.

"You speak as if you know him," Ronan probed gently.

"I have for decades." She laced her fingers, turning a ring with her thumb. "He was an acquaintance of mine, as were Aeden's parents. I never thought..." Her voice cracked, and her eyes abruptly began to swim with tears. "Did Aeden tell you my role in this?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion. It was uncomfortable and mixed oddly with the suspicion her words brought. "No. He only said he knew you."

She nodded, closing her eyes. Her lips wobbled; gentleman that he was, Ronan appeared at her side. He reached out tentatively, thought better of it, and kneeled beside her. There was concern in his eyes, but also a certain wariness. That was good. He bore that look when dealing with any sídhe, myself included: it was a hard-earned caution. I'd burned him when we were children—ever since I'd been more than cautious with him and Conor. Forgiveness had been granted, but neither of us could forget. I pursed my lips, ignoring the old guilt that came with the memory.

"There's no need to tell us," Ronan was saying. "Your past is not our concern."

"I'm concerned," I muttered. I'd had my fill of secrets; Aeden hadn't said anything, and where had that gotten us?

"It is something you should know." Morrigan stilled, her crimson eyes focused upon her hands. "I foresee death—that is my power. The death of Aeden's family... I saw it, but Shayne's attack was too sudden. I wasn't able to... I protected Aeden as best I could, but our relationship has been strained ever since." Tears gleamed in her eyes. "When he left, I thought he would never return. That anger he carries; it can leave him so vulnerable in ways he doesn't understand."

"He didn't seem very upset with you," I said, silently praying she wouldn't start crying. I didn't know how to deal with tears.

Morrigan's lips curved into a sad smile. "I am sure he didn't."

None of us said anything after that. I thought about that stupid smile he often bore. He was far too good at it—I had trouble telling when it was false.

"You said you've known Shayne for decades," Ronan said, easing the conversation from Aeden. "If I may ask, how long have you lived?"

She blinked, her distress slowly fading into a thoughtful look. "Not very long," she finally answered. "Perhaps a century and then some."

"You realise that we're in our twenties," I said flatly.

"Ah... yes?"

"A century is damn long."

Morrigan dipped her head. "I'll correct myself. It's not very long in comparison to Clídna. Or Shayne."

"Well, how old are they?"

"I believe Shayne's twice my age, and Clídna has almost lived through nine hundred years. Still, I agree that a century is no small amount of time. Much has happened over the years. I've seen many people—many friends—come and go."

I didn't like the way she looked between Ronan and I, nor how her voice was growing weepy again. "How old is Aeden? He wouldn't give me an exact answer."

"You must have guessed that he's your age, since neither of you have even finished growing. But I couldn't give you an answer in years." She leaned back, curling a strand of hair around her finger. "You're in the same generation—there tends to be a gathering every half century or so amongst our kind for such purposes."

"That's a fancy way to put it."

Morrigan saved herself from responding by focusing upon the stew. "I believe this is ready. Would you be willing to fetch Aeden, Ronan? If he doesn't wish to join us, I'll set aside a bowl for him."

"I'll do it," I interrupted, clambering to my feet with a groan.

My brother's brow furrowed. "What about your leg?"

"I've been sitting here half the day. Besides, you checked it this morning—it's healing well enough. I'm going to walk off some of the pain."

"That's not how wounds work."

"It's how I work." Before he could argue, I snatched my walking stick—no, no, it was far less embarrassing to call it a staff at this point. I snatched my staff from the floor and limped out of the cottage.

The forest was quite lush, so green it almost hurt my eyes. I hadn't noticed it the previous night, but the trees grew thick and strong here. Moss coated many of the trunks. The air smelled of the flowers Morrigan had planted: they wound around the home in delicate patterns of colour, petals waving in the breeze. I wasn't often a fan of such superficial gardens, but it had to be admitted it was pretty.

"Aeden!" I shouted, limping down the dirt path that wound from the doorstep to the edge of the garden. My leg ached, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been the last few days. Perhaps a proper night's sleep had done me more good than I'd thought.

A rustle sounded over my head; a heavy weight settled on my shoulder, accompanied by a gust of wind. I slowly turned my head to see a black falcon staring back at me, golden eyes mere inches from my own. He cocked his head to one side, shifting his feet. I looked down at his talons, curled into the fabric of my shawl.

"If you tear the wool, I'll roast you for dinner," I said.

Aeden made some sort of chittering sound, which sounded far too much like laughter for my taste.

"Morri made more stew."

He stretched his wings out in a silent, restless gesture.

"Talk to me, you eejit." I growled and swiped at him—he leapt away and shifted to stand before me, running a hand through his mess of hair.

"Easy, Mae," he snickered. "This form is boring, that's all."

"Mm. What were you doing?"

"Eavesdropping, of course."

I frowned. "Wouldn't Morri have noticed?"

"I lived here for a few years." He yawned, stretching his arms above his head in a languid stretch. "I know how to trick her."

There it was again, that casual grin and relaxed demeanour. "So," I said. "Do you hate her?"

"No." His eyes wandered about the clearing, lingering on the cottage. "But I can't forgive her."

"For what? Was there something she could've done?"

Silence stretched between us. The wind stirred through the trees, producing a chorus of rustling. He scanned them, green eyes thoughtful, and turned back to me. "Your hair is still loose."

I huffed. "Do you ever speak plainly?"

"When I feel like it."

He winked as I glared back at him. Eventually, I gave up. Tight-lipped bastard. "I haven't bothered braiding it yet. I was tired."

"Oh, I believe it. Did I ever tell you you're dangerously grouchy in the mornings?" He circled around me, his smile brightening. "May I do it for you?"

"You can't be serious."

"I am. Besides, I don't want to go back inside just yet."

A sigh escaped me, and I slumped beneath one of the trees. Its thick, sprawling roots provided a decent place to sit. "Me neither. She irks me."

Aeden slipped behind me, gathering my hair behind my shoulders. I twisted around to protest, but hesitated when I saw his expression. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his tongue poking between his teeth. He actually seemed focused as he tried to split the strands, far more gently than I would've expected.

"Careful with that," I said, facing forward. I'd brushed my hair earlier: if he made a mistake, it wouldn't be hard to undo it.

I felt a slight tug as he began to weave my hair. A few seconds passed. "You trust Morri enough to leave your brother with her."

My lips twisted. "Well, she seems genuine enough. But I don't like how fragile she is."

"Fragile, eh?" A dark note lingered beneath his chuckle. "Aye. Fighting has never been her strong suit. But that's what we're here for, no?"

"Mm." I shifted my feet on the grass, drawing my good leg to my chest. Aeden mumbled something about keeping still, which I ignored. "I still don't want Ronan to come with us." He and I had already discussed the manner, and his damn stubbornness had won out, but worry lingered in the back of my mind. Natír was the land of the sídhe, not humans. He'd be more vulnerable than ever.

"I have a feeling he'll be fine. Do you have a tie?" He waited until I handed over the thin strips of leather I'd been keeping around my wrist next to the beaded bracelet from Orin. "Ronan protected you by the Rene when we were fighting, didn't he? There was blood on that knife of his."

"He did," I muttered. He shouldn't have needed to in the first place. "Just before you lost control of yourself."

He swept back a strand of hair that had fallen across my eyes. "You know this is me trying to apologise for that, right?"

"I don't want an apology. I want to know what you'll choose when the time comes." I grasped the necklace Conor had given me, clenching my fingers around the carved wood. "Us, or your revenge."

Aeden fiddled with my braid several moments longer. I kept my gaze upon the garden of flowers before us, wondering what his expression was like. When he spoke, his voice was even, unreadable, and oddly serious. "Unless I must, I will do everything in my power to avoid harming either of you."

The words came with a jolt; the power of the promise they held was palpable. Genuine surprise flickered through me—even with the condition he'd added, that was an important geas. I couldn't think of a response to it.

"I can't do much more than that," Aeden continued. "But believe it or not, I do like you two."

"And you need my help." I raised a brow, though he couldn't see it. "Especially now."

"Ha. That too."

"Keep to that promise, and I'll try to avoid hurting you in turn. Unless I must," I added dryly. An uneasy feeling trickled down my spine alongside the pledge, like icy water. With that, we had more than a promise: this was an agreement. But he'd placed some genuine trust in me, and I wished to return the favour.

He fell quiet. Then he shifted my hair a bit, probably tying it off. "Done."

"That was fast." My hair was a mess of choppy curls—it was often more than annoying to braid. Aeden had already witnessed my bouts of cursing when we were travelling here. I pushed myself to face him, setting my staff across my thighs. I ran my fingers over the plaits, feeling their shape. I blinked. "It's not bad." It was better than what I could do, in fact. Perhaps even Mam's work.

"I watched Morri do it often. She's a fan of braids."

I thought of the small ones in her hair, seemingly done for decorative effect rather than any sort of practicality. "Of course she is," I sighed.

"I'm not sure how she bears it. All those clothes and jewellery."

A laugh broke free of my lips. "I can't decide which of you is worse. You're covered in dirt, and she sparkles so much it hurts."

"Was that a laugh?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"To think! Mae, laughing. You do like me."

"Like I said, don't flatter yourself."

"You're just too proud to admit it." Aeden stood and extended a hand, eyes gleaming. "Let's go inside now. I want that stew."

︿﹀︿

I had been too preoccupied the previous night to notice the difference, but as the moon rose, it was quite clear that Morrigan's strength grew with it. The woman sat beside one of the windows in her home, the shutters thrown open to reveal the glittering night sky. She sat upon her bed and watched the moon as the hours trailed by, eerily still and silent. Every now and then, I glimpsed a silvery energy drifting like mist around her. She looked as if she'd come from a painting, her feet tucked beneath her skirts, her red-white hair spilling across her shoulders.

When she finally stirred, I almost jumped. "It's time."

She drifted out of the door; Ronan held it open for her, and I followed. Aeden was already lingering outside in the form of a wolf, sprawled on his side in a patch of grass, facing the forest. I suspected he'd been keeping an eye out for Shayne, but Morrigan's reassurances that neither he nor other Kaelte would bother us proved true.

Aeden scrambled to his feet and pranced about us. A cool breeze brushed against my cheek, and I wrapped my shawl tighter about my shoulders. Once again, I was without the sun. The pain in my leg had grown more bearable—the cut was actually sealing now—but it was certainly still present.

Morrigan pulled Ronan to the side of the path, angling her head up as she traced something over his chest. Since he was so much taller than her, she had to lift her arms quite a bit. It was almost comical. Energy rippled through the clearing, and the symbol flared silver before fading from sight.

"This is a sort of ward," she explained, stepping back. "I'm sure you already know that the otherworld is not kind to mortals. This will protect you—if you stay with us, you'll be safe. Don't wander into the mist, no matter what you may see. And don't eat anything, or accept any gifts unless it's from one of us."

Ronan nodded solemnly. I'd overheard them discuss it already in more detail, though it probably wasn't necessary. He was cautious and smart. I trusted him to do the right thing. What sparked my interest was whatever Morrigan had done. If I focused, I could feel the lingering touch of her power upon him. It was rather unnerving, seeing my brother at the mercy of another sídhe.

"How did you do that?" I demanded.

"It can't really be taught." She paused, her eyes searching my own. "As time passes and you become accustomed to your abilities, it will come to you."

I felt rather too much like a child under her gaze. "Fine."

Morrigan closed her eyes and turned around, drifting down the path like a ghost. The mountain slope dipped sharply not far from the cottage; between the trees, the vast expanse of the night sky stretched out before us. The moon hung almost perfectly above her head at this angle, its pale light framing her thin shoulders and hair. She spread her arms; of course, the delicate chains strung across her back clinked with the movement.

Then thick mist erupted from the ground, blotting out our surroundings. I grasped for Ronan on instinct, seizing his arm so I wouldn't lose him. The warmth of his palm settled in mine, but I wasn't able to see his face for several breaths. I felt an odd tug deep within me, like something was pulling at my soul. The cold, night wind abruptly stilled, shifted, picked up again in the opposite direction.

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting once my vision cleared, but the familiarity that struck me wasn't it. Nor was the abrupt return of the sun's power, warm and stronger than ever. I jerked my gaze upwards. The sky was a dazzling sight: the clouds that cloaked it were burnished with all the colours of a sunrise—golds, reds, deep blues and purples. Where they parted, stars glinted between them; so did the azure expanses of day. The light that escaped was what I'd expect from late evening: not quite day, not quite night. I pressed a hand to my chest, startled by the heat stirring within me. It might as well have been noon. My leg had been aching all morning, but the pain began to abate as my power solidified.

We still stood amidst the mountains, but things were... different. Morrigan's cottage was vaguely shaped, only half-visible unless I focused upon it directly. Tall grass obscured the ground, rippling in the soft breeze. The energy of the forest was stronger, more vibrant and solid. Its scent hung thick around us, and I was abruptly aware of just how ancient those trees were.

Mist lingered in the air, stirring across the grass in lazy currents. It was difficult to see farther than two dozen paces in any direction. I'd have normally found half the world blotted out a severe annoyance, but this felt oddly natural. The fabric of the world was thinner here, more flexible and insubstantial. Distance and space didn't hold the same meaning.

"Fascinating," Ronan breathed. His eyes wandered, and his hand slackened in mine.

I moved my grip to his wrist. "Don't get too excited, brother."

"We're still close to the mortal realm, so there won't be much danger of straying," Morrigan said with a gentle nod to Ronan. "But we should not stay here too long."

I scrutinised our surroundings. Beneath the familiarity and the surge of my power, there was a subtle touch of darkness, icy and unwelcome. My teeth ground together.

Aeden's figure blurred into his usual form; he stood up, dispassionately examining our surroundings. "I prefer the fields of Natír. Will we pass through—?" He cut himself off abruptly, eyes widening.

At the same moment, Morrigan screamed.

The woman had some lungs on her. She staggered into Ronan, as if someone had struck her about the face. Her eyes, whites and all, flooded deep scarlet, shimmering with a pale light that washed across her cheekbones. She took a ragged breath, and tears of what looked like blood slipped down her face. She looked ghastly, a spectre of horror and death. I was unnerved—Ronan looked terrified—Aeden kept his gaze forward, a snarl creeping across his lips.

Her visions, I thought, flinging an arm in front of Ronan and Morrigan both as I scrutinised the misty forest. Someone is going to die.

"He's here." She covered her face with her hands, trembling. When she spoke, her voice came as the barest whisper. "Shayne's found you."