“I suspect you learned much along the way. Though I do apologize for giving you that first clue. I missed the truth,” Agnes said. “Phinneas was trying to tell me, and I only heard what I wanted to hear. We”—she motioned to her sisters—“wanted so badly for you to be selected guardian that when Phinneas told me to give you that vial of elixir, I thought he’d had a vision that you’d be next.”
“Everything has centered on you,” Lydia said. “That’s why Madigan sent you to find the map. And that’s why Phinneas instructed Agnes to give you the elixir.”
“You and Max,” Agnes corrected. “He’s played a huge part in all of this.”
“And your birthday must play a role,” Calliope said.
Her birthday was tomorrow. She looked at each of her aunts in turn. They were speaking so quickly, she could hardly keep up, leaving her feeling as if she’d missed something crucial. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? Is Max part of the prophecy? And is the map somehow important, too? Is the map the dove?”
Her aunts exchanged looks heavy with concern.
“No, my dear,” Agnes said. “The map isn’t the dove. You are.”
Her words registered, but Sabine barely understood them. “I… I don’t understand. The dove is a weapon.”
“We assumed the dove was a weapon,” Agnes said. “We were wrong. Right here in Phinneas’s journal, it says, ‘Sabine is the dove, only she can stop him.’ That is what Phinneas saw in his vision. Not that you were the next guardian, but that you are the dove.”
Her aunts kept talking, but their words flew past. She tried to focus, tried to make sense of what they’d revealed.
She stood and walked away from the bed, going instead to stand by the window. A light drizzle fell from the sky, silently hitting the glass. She was the dove? How was she intended to be a weapon? Time was running out on her figuring everything out. If she didn’t stop the Chosen One by her birthday tomorrow, Agnes would be killed.
She turned to find that only Agnes remained.
“I wanted time alone with you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Sabine said. She took a deep breath. Shame burned her cheeks. If she couldn’t be trusted with a small amount of elixir, how could she possibly be the dove? “Agnes, I lost my vial of elixir. No, that’s not precisely true, Max took it from me.”
“Come and sit.” Agnes patted the chair next to her.
“I still don’t understand how I could be the dove,” Sabine said, sinking into the chair.
“It is your role in the prophecy,” Agnes said. “You were chosen, Sabine.”
Sabine shook her head. “None of this makes sense.”
“Of course it does, when you look at it from the correct angle. The date of your birth is tied to the prophecy. Your relationship with Max—the one man who was able to locate our map. The final clue of the quest, stating you had to have the right eyes to see what was before you. You said yourself you had to read that clue in the mirror,” Agnes said.
“But if the entire quest was built as a distraction for the Chosen One, how would that have worked for him?” Sabine asked.
“It wouldn’t. The clue says it all. If you have the right eyes.” Agnes placed a warm hand on Sabine’s arm. “Our ancestors set the hunt up to distract the Chosen One, but they must have known it was a possibility that someone else would find the clues.”
“But there is no logic to me being the dove,” Sabine said. “I have no skills or training that would prepare me to do physical battle with a man. How am I supposed to defeat someone who has already killed military officers and guardians, men far more prepared to defend themselves than I am?”
Agnes merely shook her head, her expression an odd combination of resignation and ruefulness. “I cannot tell you that. All I can say is that you will defeat him. If Phinneas saw it, it will come to fruition.”
Sabine knew that Agnes’s faith in Phinneas stemmed more from her love of the man than from her belief in him as the Seer. Sabine didn’t know if she could find that kind of confidence. “I will have to kill him to stop him.” Sabine swallowed hard.
“When the time comes, you will find the strength to do whatever it is you are destined to do. Trust your instincts,” Agnes said.
Sabine said nothing. Her mind frantically searched for the answer, for the key to stopping the Chosen One. Nothing came. She hoped Agnes was right, but there was a lot at stake to rely on her instincts.
“There is more than weariness or fear in your eyes, child. I know what the pain from a broken heart looks like,” Agnes said.
“He betrayed me,” she whispered. “Oh, Agnes, I’m so ashamed. I trusted him; I gave him my body, my heart.” She drew in her breath as a wave of pain crashed over her. Damn him.
“Perhaps he had good reasons for taking that vial,” Agnes suggested.
“Doubtful.”