Before my eyes, the boulder splinters in two from the point where I touched, each half falling to one side. The rope around it snaps, sending ribbons flying into the wind, and the very earth beneath our feet trembles.
What have I done?
I stare in mute horror as the rock splits like an egg, the two halves falling apart, rocking as they settle into place. But the chaos isn’t done.
Water erupts from the crack, spraying everywhere.
No one moves as more and more spills forth, gushing over the rocks and trickling down between them. The steady stream rushes towards us. It’s not powerful enough that we need to fear being washed away, but Lore moves us out of the way, regardless.
My eyes trace the path of the current as it flows over the path and downhill to the road, where it meets the bright yellow leather boots of a high fae female. The priestess—and she must be a priestess even if her temple robes are far shorter than the others I’ve seen—stands there with doe-wide eyes as the water slowly swirls around her feet.
The second she feels my gaze on her, she closes her mouth and drops into the lowest bow.
“Goddess bless the Nicnevin. I came as soon as I heard you were nearing the sacred rock,” she gushes. “I am Priestess Cadnia. It is my honour to tend this shrine.”
The shrine I just wrecked? Oh, Goddess, have I just put her out of a job?
“Thank you for this blessing, Lady Nicnevin.”
Kitarni comes up beside me, taking my arm. “Thisisa blessing. Danu has brought life to the lifeless. Look.”
I lift my eyes to where the water is still bubbling freely from the stone. Sure enough, all around it, moss and flowers have begun to grow, surrounding the spring with a tiny flower garden of its own.
Am I bound to change every single shrine I come across?
“Definitely an improvement,” Lore says, breaking the awkward silence amongst my Guard. “I like the sharp edges better.”
“The flowers are beautiful,” Bree murmurs, agreeing.
Despite the púca’s words, Naris paces the edge of the water, unimpressed.
Swallowing back the hysterical laugh that threatens to break free—because yes, the edges of the once smooth boulder are now lethally sharp where the rock split—I nod. With my chest too full of emotion to even begin to process, I press myself into my redcap’s embrace.
I glance at my brother, but Bram’s expression is unreadable. I broke the boulder he was so impressed with. The stone that had survived since a time before Fae existed—so many millennia ago—was cleaved in two by little old me.
The priestess, evidently realising she’s not going to be addressed, bows again to both me and Kitarni, then rushes past us towards the broken shrine. She falls to her knees in the water, raising her arms above her head as she begins a fervent prayer.
“I think we should get going,” I whisper.
I want to get far from here as quickly as possible before they all change their minds and decide this isn’t a blessing after all.
“No one is mad at you, Rosie,” Jaro reassures me, crossing the space to draw me out of Lore’s arms and into his own. “I promise.”
“Hey, I stole her first,” Lore protests, stealing me back before I have a chance to do more than inhale a lungful of Jaro’s wood smoke and leather scent.
The shifter growls under his breath but doesn’t escalate the argument.
“This is a good thing,” Kitarni reassures me. “Danu is leaving a trail of hope. A reminder that she is still here, among all the war. If something like this happens at the temple in Pavellen…”
“Then she’s just as apt to start a war if Aiyana decides it was a malicious attack rather than a divine blessing,” Drystan reminds her, leading Blizzard through the water to my side.
“It’s a sign of the Goddess’s favour,” Kitarni insists, squeezing my arm gently before taking the reins of her own horse and swinging up into the saddle. “Your mission is blessed. If Aiyana ignores that and refuses to bend the knee, her people will revolt.”
“Come.” Drystan holds out his hand. “We’re leaving. We can discuss this on the road. It may not happen again.”
I nod, pressing a tiny kiss to the underside of Lore’s jaw to thank him for his quick intervention before pushing free of his arms and allowing myself to be lifted back onto the horse’s back.
By the time we reach the sacred circle which marks the next shrine, I’ve convinced myself that Drystan might be right. Perhaps it was just a fluke.
