Page 123 of The Moorwitch

“Niece?” Sylvie whispers.

“Did you know who she was all along?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “She was the one variable I hadn’t accounted for, and it was cleverly done for Morgaine to hide her here, in the mortal world, with her magic suppressed to hide her. But the moment I touched her, I knew. I felt the fae in her stir, her blood weak and undernourished, but beginning to awaken—thanks, I believe, to your influence, Rose.”

A cold hand grips my heart, as the threads connect in my mind, the full pattern of events finally coming together. I understand at last why Conrad has so vehemently denied Sylvie her magic. Her faerie blood must be tied to her power, and as long as she did not channel, it remained dormant. Then I came along, thinking I knew what was best for her, seeing too much of myself in her eyes, and in teaching her to Weave, I unwittingly exposed her. I look at Sylvie in dismay.

“Now,” continues Lachlan. “I believe you have something for me?”

Yes. The reason Conrad sacrificed himself. The only hope I have of saving him. I take out the branch; its white bark has turned gray and the leaves are gone. Will it still be enough to restore his power so he can stop Morgaine before she hurts Conrad—if it isn’t already too late?

“Give it here,” Lachlan says. “Give it to me, and your debt will be paid.”

But something pulls at my mind, a whisper of hesitation. There is more to this pattern. He always has schemes within schemes. Nothing is what it seems with him.

“Rose.It is minutes to midnight.” He holds out his hand. “What are you waiting for?”

The whisper grows, the unfinished pattern wild and desperate and screaming to be understood, louder and louder until, in a burst of clarity, Idounderstand.

Sylvie.

Horrified, I step back.

The pattern’s final thread snaps into place. I see at last the terrible twist hidden in his words and how he has trapped me yet again.

According to the deal we struck, if I give him the branch, he will be unable to harm Conrad. But I remember all too well his words:I will not harm your precious mortal Norths.

I look at Sylvie. If I’d known then what she was, I’d have seen his words for what they were, and the poisonous barb he’d hidden in them.

If I give him the branch, I might save Conrad and myself.

But the cost would be Sylvie, with her immortal blood. I see that as plainly as the ring of thorns engraved into Lachlan’s breastplate. When his full power is restored, nothing will stop him from killing her or bending her to his dark purposes.

Once again, I find the cost too high.

The only hope she might have now is to escape while he is still in his weakened state. And I made a promise to Conrad, and I will keep it.

Looking the faerie in his silver eyes, I unwind the sea silk from my wrist and wrap it thrice around the branch.

“Rose ...” he says, his tone warning. “Give me the branch.”

“No.”

I channel fast, my heart clenching at once, but I force the energy through my body and into the precious sea silk even as my fingers are still Weaving the fire knot.

The branch ignites at once. I drop it and step back as it blazes up, then crumbles to ash. A thin trail of smoke curls up between us, sinuous and pale.

“Foolish,” sighs Lachlan.

“I won’t help you conquer Elfhame.” My heart begins to writhe, the pain returning with hungry vengeance, creeping from the edges of my vision, his anger in every stab. “You’ll remain weak and your power broken, and you’ll diminish and fade like a ... amortal, like a—” I gasp and clench my breast, my strength draining from me.

Lachlan only laughs.

“You ought to have given it to me,” he says.

“Without your power—”

“My power? Witness mypower,” he scoffs, then spreads his hands. He begins to channel the way Sylvie did when she put out the fire, his pupils silvering over. Wind stirs; the ashes and soot layered over the ground shiver and then begin sweeping toward him. Captain barks, snarling like a wild wolf.