The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3)

The Sweet Far Thing (Gemma Doyle #3) Page 140

I swallow the lump in my throat, but Pippa is cool as can be. “That’s the way of the realms, Bessie. It only takes in some. Isn’t that right, Gemma?”

“That is what I’ve been told,” I say, appraising Bessie to see if she will give anything away, but all I see is her disappointment.

“Maybe it’s ’cause we’re not the proper station,” Mercy says.

“Ain’t no stations here. That’s wot I like about it. And besides, it always took in Miss Ann, and she ain’t no better ’n’us,” Bessie says.

“Bessie, that’s quite enough,” Pippa clucks, and Bessie skulks off to sit at the hearth. She feeds small flowers to the fire, watching them spark and burn. “Come now, let’s not pout. I want to dance!”

I’m in no humor for a dance just now, and I can’t find it within me to pretend. Instead, I go for a walk. The cool air is refreshing; the dusky sky feels sheltering. I push on through the billowing mist, letting my yearning pull me. I want to put my hands on the Tree of All Souls once more, to be joined to it as if we are one being.

The gate opens without a word this time. It has what it wants from me. My feet sink into the black sand. The air, cold and gritty, presses itself against me; I put out my tongue, tasting it. I follow the roar of the river. A dinghy waits, so I step into it and head toward the heart of the Winterlands. I know not to fight the tide this time, and my little boat sails easily over the rapids, but the path is unfamiliar. It’s not the same one we traveled last time, and panic blooms in me. Where am I? How did I get so lost?

There’s a splash beside the boat, and a water nymph strokes the side of it. She gestures with her head at a cave to the right; then she swims toward it, knifing into and out of the water like a serpent.

Right. I shan’t let her get the best of me. If necessary, I’ll employ the magic. Comforted by that thought, I turn the boat and paddle after her, drifting into the hollowed-out rock. Stalactites hang over my head, great daggers of ice. The cave is bordered by two strips of rocky land that must vanish under the tide, for I see the high-water marks upon the cave’s walls. High above on each side is a ledge.

The water nymph’s webbed hand caresses my ankle. With a gasp, I shake it loose. Her colored scales remain on my skin in a jeweled handprint.

“You’ll not take my skin without a fight,” I warn, and my words echo in the cave’s emptiness.

The nymph slinks away, dipping below the surface of the water until only her glistening black eyes and water-slicked bald head are visible, and a new wariness steals over me. On the ledge, there is movement. The faces of ghastly, pale creatures squeeze out of the cracks in the rocks like moths’ heads. They have no eyes, but they sniff, crawling closer to the edge.

My heart’s a fist. Silently, I turn the boat around and am paddling back toward the mouth of the cave when the opening disappears. That can’t be. I hear a snort and the clip-clop of hooves, and Amar sidles into view on his magnificent white steed. He travels over the narrow land on the side of the cave until he is even with me in my boat. My breath catches. Up close he has the same full lips and proud carriage as Kartik. But his eyes are black swirls ringed in red. They hold me fast, and I can’t look away, can’t scream, can’t run.

Use the magic, the magic, my heart pleads. But it will not catch spark. I’m too afraid.

“I know you’ve seen the priestess. What did she tell you?” Amar asks. His teeth are jagged points.

“You’ll never know,” I manage to say.

Amar’s eyes waver, and for just a moment, they are as brown as Kartik’s. “Tell my brother to remember his heart in all things. That is where his honor and his destiny will be found. Tell him.”

And then, quickly, they revert to that terrifying black abyss circled in red. “We’ll have you yet. Beware the birth of May.”

My breath comes out in quick white puffs, my fear joined with the cold.

“Let me out!” I scream.

Suddenly, the mouth of the cave is visible again, and I paddle for it with all my might, leaving Amar and those pale, blind creatures far behind. The tree is forgotten. I want only to return safely to the Borderlands.

I stagger into the blue forest, breathing hard, and am relieved to see the lights of the castle bleeding out its windows, dispelling the gloom. I’m also relieved to hear my friends’ laughter, for I should like to join it now.

There’s a small rumble of thunder, and when I look behind me at the Winterlands sky, it is drenched in red.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT