I loosened my hold on Tadhg. “Eava?”
Her black eyes turned milky white.
“Eava, is everything—"
“She’s lookin’ fer ye,” Eava whispered in a haunting voice, her head slowly turning toward me.
Who? The Queen? If that witch wanted me, she’d have drawn me to her, and no amount of magic could break that bond.
Tadhg smacked my hands away.
Eava’s mouth lifted on the right side in a mocking smile as she unlatched her hands, her head cocking to the left like a demented pigeon. “Pity the girl from Graystones who loved a heartless prince.For the only way to save him—”
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped to the ground. I jumped off my brother, catching the old witch before her skull cracked on the hard stone floor.
Tadhg punched my shoulder. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing.” Unless you counted abandoning Eithne and assaulting Aveen. Neither of those women loved me. Perhaps it was a coincidence?Oh, who was I kidding? A feckin’ coincidence?
Graystones.Heartless prince.
I gave Eava’s weathered cheek a gentle pat.“Eava? Eava, wake up.”
Her eyes burst open, black and fixed on me. “She’s lookin’ fer ye.”
“Who? Eava, I don’t know—”
“She’s the one. The one ye’ve been lookin’ for.”
Find your soul’s one true mate
For she will save you from your fate . . .
Aveen. It must be Aveen.
Pity the girl from Graystones who loved a heartless prince.
For the only way to save him . . .
“Go. Find the woman.” Tadhg took Eava from me, cradling her in his lap. Her eyes had fallen closed again, but her breathing appeared steady. I could count on one finger the number of people I genuinely liked, and if anything happened to Eava—
“I said go!” Tadhg growled.
I stumbled to my feet, racing to the kitchen’s back door, up the stairs, and out into the sunny garden. Oscar and his companion were planting something. They didn’t bother waving as they used to when I was a boy, and neither did Muireann when I sprinted through the courtyard. The moment I breached the wards, I evanesced to the abandoned shed in Graystones.
From between a gap in the door, I could see dark clouds blowing in off the sea and hear waves battering the creaking hulls of ships tethered in the port.
A flurry of blue skirts and golden curls raced up the hill toward a black carriage with an old man hunched at the top, struggling to keep his cap on despite the whipping wind.
Aveen.
She’s lookin’ fer ye.
Aveen threw herself into the carriage; the door banged behind her. The driver’s whip cracked like thunder, and the horses lurched forward, starting for the road out of town.
I evanesced into the bobbling carriage, landing on the seat next to Aveen.
She gasped, throwing herself back against the plush cushion. “Rían?”