“Youwere the Kraken?” My voice cracked.
I had made a bargain with the ruler, the God-King of the Tuatha Dé Danann. I had held his eye in my hand and forced his magic into my body. I had sat on a throne, infused with the Dadga’s magic, andlived?
The Dagda—King of Life and Death.
Manannán mac Lir cleared his throat, standing from his chair. “Brígid.” He snapped. “Is that prophecy in the book of Making?”
She let out a peal of laughter. “Only in the Mistéireach!” The older lady spun on her heel, her dress fanning out around her in a dance. One turn, and she disappeared into thin air.
Manannán mac Lir pinched his brow.
The Dagda’s eyes sparkled.
“It seems you cannot control yourwains, Dagda.” Manannán mac Lir snapped.
“Brígid comes and goes as she pleases.” My mother bit back. “Everyone knows that.”
While the gods bickered, the Dagda held my gaze.
My father...
Pain ricocheted through my skull, and I pressed the heel of my palm to my eye, wincing.
Cormac rubbed my shoulder; his brow creased with concern. “Something isn’t right.” He told me. “First, the hunger. Then memory loss—”
“Belisama said it was because I was born in the Aos Sí. That I am not a true being of energy.” My nose wrinkled. “Once I get back to the Aos Sí—”
“Ifyou can get back.” Cormac narrowed his eyes, gesturing to the squabbling gods.
“I have to get back to Rainn, Tor, and Shay.” I pleaded. “They’re alone against Balor. I won’t let them die. They’remine.” As my memories returned, drop by drop, as did the fervent desire to get home to my mates. “Every moment spent talking about it, instead of doing something, is time wasted.” I threw my hands up in exasperation.
“They seem more concerned with their drama than discussing Balor’s plans to lead an army to the Tuatha Dé Danann.” Cormac’s lip twitched.
“I’m more concerned about the lake,” I told him. “If the Fomorians are beasts of energy, do they need vessels like the gods do?”
Horror coated Cormac’s features. “I didn’t think of that.”
I scratched my chest, feeling the unblemished skin where Shay’s mark should be. My mother had told me about my bonds. The basin had shown me my Shíorghrá. It was as if the threadsconnecting my memories and my mind had been snipped—slowly weaving themselves back together.
I remembered Balor and the horrid coral face behind her glamour. I remembered the Whispering Pass and all those bodies...
“The Whispering Pass.” My eyes flicked to his.
Realization dawned on Cormac’s face.
“She’ll make more bodies, won’t she?” I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath.
I didn’t hear the Dagda approach. His eyes were made of lichen-marked stone. A statue brought to life. The other gods bore some mark of their domain, but the Dagda was the God of life and death. He stared down at me, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
“What is your magic, Maeve Cruinn? What do you claim as your own?” His heavy brow furrowed as he leaned in and studied my face. “The water, or the souls within it?”
I glanced at the other gods. Manannán mac Lir threw his hands up in exasperation, and the sea gull on his head let out a squawk as he argued with another god.
“My magic?” I echoed.
“She controls water.” Cormac’s jaw hardened as he met the Dagda’s eyes.
The god cocked his head to the side. “You control the Twilight Lake.” He corrected. “What of the Dark Sea? What of the rain, or tears?”
