Page 63

“No telling if his turn passed before or after we returned the mail. We’ve got to wait for the soulfall to begin again.”

Melting out of Sion’s embrace, I curl onto my side, covering my ears to wait for the spirits to finish their ghastly parade until we can watch the squire test his fate.

Sion speaks in a low, soothing voice. “I know it’s much to ask, but as I said, soon you’ll be needing to watch the end of the soulfall, anamchara.”

The word is strange to me, but I’m too consumed with blocking out the piercing melancholy of the soulfall to ask what it means. I yearn for the blessed silence between repetitions of the souls’ tests of fate. A tendril of wind skates across the river and finds me with its icy touch, proving Sion is no longer there to shelter me.

I hate that he leaves. It’s another hint my deepest feelings will go unanswered by him. If my weakness didn’t disappoint him, would he cradle me in his arms? Kiss me? Even if my affections are one-sided, he must know his presence is the only support to make the woeful song of spirits bearable.

Didn’t finding Strongbow’s grave atone for my inability to watch the souls yet to be saved? I refuse to get used to the soulfall. I need it to sear my own spirit. This palpable torment motivates my commitment to end it. Why can’t he appreciate that? I pull tighter into myself. I’m too drained from what Sion called a seeing to engage him in an argument even if he had stayed with me.

Finally, the cries of the dead take their pause. I rise, brushing dirt from my arm and sleeve.

Sion walks up the slope from the river, shaking droplets from wet hair. Has he grown such a thick skin he can ignore the souls’ laments to splash water on his face? I wish there were time before the soulfall starts again to do the same, but the pause is all too brief. The moon shakes free of its cover, bathing the scene with a silvery touch.

Soon enough, the low whine that precedes the moan of spirits rides the wind. Candlelight spills down the side of the tower, setting moss and stone aglow. I raise my eyes to the window.

The squire stands tall, arms extended to the sky.

Instead of plummeting from the ledge, the night eases him from the tower. I hear the snap of his robes and the sound of muffled bells. The moment his foot meets rock, the sky blazes with fireflies that twirl in an elongated helix, stretching from the river until they cross the face of the moon.

I reach toward the twisting lines, shining with the virtue of his humanity restored. “Godspeed. Peace be with you.” As the last stream of light clears the moon, I find my feet and bolt for the woods. I’m elated one more soul is on the bright side of their journey, but there are more still caught on the spikes of torment. Confirming Sion’s opinion of my weakness, I refuse to stay here in the open where my own soul absorbs their boundless misery.

Once I find shelter under the trees, the sound of the soulfall is muffled but not extinguished. I want to leave. Go to Enniscorthy and spend a normal evening with Colleen, Charlie, and Granny O’Halloran before we chase down the next soul’s virtue.

I cup my hands and call out. “Sion.”

No answer.

“I want to go back. Now.”

If he’s callous enough to wash in the river during the soulfall, he can damn well take me through the Veil without waiting for the end of the cycle. I scan the wood for a white poplar with green triangles on its bark, his Veil guide’s tree. Maybe, if I find Alfie…That first night, Sion claimed I’d caused a ripple in the Veil. Does that mean I don’t need him to travel?

Silence comes more quickly than I expect. It makes sense. The soulfall is half of what it was. When I turn in the direction of the tower, I see Sion, painted steel blue with moonlight, waiting in an opening between the trees. He’s as still as the trunks flanking him.

When I take a step toward him, he falls to his knees. Any thought of traveling alone disappears as I run to him. He throws both arms around my waist, burying his head against me. His body trembles violently enough to shake mine.

I drop over him as gently as a coverlet, arms tight around his neck, face buried in curls. He doesn’t act like a man who can’t wait to see the end of me. The scent of lemongrass and spearmint surround us as we hold one another.

Sion is first to speak. His voice cracks. “So much time squandered in failure. How can I be forgiven for the hell I’ve wrapped tight around the souls?”

“Shh.” My fingers find a path through his ringlets. “We’re not failing now.”

As he stands, his body slides against mine. The contact ignites a slow burn across my skin. I want those strong hands tracing every one of my curves. When he tilts his face to me, instead of matching the desire that surely smolders in mine, his eyes glisten with the last of his tears.

“You’re a wonder, my swan. I will not doubt or question you again.” He lays a fist over his heart. “My service is yours.”

I shake my head. “You have to question me. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He cradles my face in his hands, kissing my temple as the heat between us intensifies. “Maybe this doesn’t.” A finger trails down my neck, across my collarbone until reaching my pounding heart. “But this does.”

It takes all my willpower not to smash my body to his and confirm how perfectly we fit together.

“You’re gifted with true sight, Eala bán. You see between worlds. The ghost girl knew it and so did Strongbow. His soul called to you.”

I rub fingers over my eyes. “What if the seeing was a one-time deal? I may not be able to do it again.”

He kisses my hair. “You will. All you need to do is wrap your heart around what’s shown to you, like your shadow stories in the fire.”