“I saw,” she began, “a man with a hole in his chest.”
“Gross,” said Briar.
Niamh’s voice took on a quality where the lilt in her accent and the rhythm of her words became poetry. “Everyone could see this man’s heart beat slow when he was calm, fast when he was scared, and skip when he was in love. He tried to build over the hole in his chest, but his heart was too full of feeling, and every material he used melted.”
Briar nodded along. Yes, that did sound like him. Passionate. Sensitive. Vulnerable.
“So,” Seer Niamh continued, “he fashioned a mask so terrible that no one noticed his bare heart. That worked for a time. People were too frightened to get close. But in the absence of love, his heart turned to stone. Known to all but known by none, he became a deified pillar of the people, stripped of humanity in the eyes of those who loved him from afar.”
Briar frowned. He supposed his gregarious naturecouldbe seen as intimidating, but—
Niamh’s tone shifted. “Until an idiot showed up and was too stupid to be scared of the mask. With much time and patience, the man took off his mask and gave his heart to the stupid one—”
“Wait,” said Briar.
“To keep safe whenever he needed to take off the mask and breathe.”
“Just a sec—”
“And the stone heart will turn golden in the idiot’s hands. Together with his lover, he will leave a mark on every life he touches, reaching beyond the borders of his humble beginnings, finding prosperity and longevity beyond his own mortality.Thatis how you’ll meet your destiny,” Seer Niamh finished. Just as Briar demanded with all the weight of righteous indignation,
“AmIthe stupid one?”
After speeding through the seven stages of grief, Briar realized two things.
The first, Niamh would not change her mind. (She claimed to be “a servant of Fate, not its master.”Bollocks, thought Briar.) The second, his congenial relationship with Niamh was clearly a lie, and she must loathe him.
Once she said goodbye and the liquid in his sink turned clear, he searched for information on Coill Darragh. The Magical Travel Bureau mentioned needing special permission to visit because the town was protected by powerful wards. A few sources touted the village as the site of a magical hotbed, the details of which were obfuscated. Otherwise, there was little information he could find.
Somewhere between bargaining and begging, Briar considered refusing the prophetic summons and going to Pentawynn anyway. An empty threat—he couldn’t afford lodging for one week, let alone a year.
He consoled himself by looking through Alakagram on his phone. There were plenty of photos of apprentices getting their placements at the Rede. One post recorded all the Reded witches alongside their placements, with congratulations. Briar’s name was omitted, which hurt far worse than the news he’d be going to Coill Darragh. It was like he’d ceased to exist already.
Still, Celyn was being sent to Bellgrave. Hopefully he liked exorcising rats. Briar took some comfort that his dreams weren’t the only ones broken today.
As if summoned by Briar’s thoughts, Celyn knocked on his door.
“Oh. You,” Briar said upon opening it. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t see you at the Rede.”
“I was late.”
“Oh. So you don’t know where you’re going?”
Celyn was the last person Briar wanted to talk to. With a sting of grief, he realized the only person he would’ve shared his disappointment with was his mother. She’d have known exactly what to say to comfort him. Instead, he had Celyn. His aura of spring rain and ice cream melting over fingers no longer appealed. Looking at him across his flat, Briar wished the conversation at the Raven’s Brew had gone any other way. It galled him to think he’d spent so much time with someone who thought of him as unimportant and shameful by association.
“Did you speak to the head seer—”
“What do you want, Celyn?” Briar said. “Aren’t you afraid someone might have seen you coming here? What will all your posh friends think?”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Really, where’s your placement, Briar? Is it in Pentawynn?”
Asked directly, Briar couldn’t avoid the truth. “No,” he said bitterly. “A place called Coill Darragh.”
“Well, that’s a shame.” Something in his tone rankled. Not bristling and eager for a fight, but calm. Smug.
“I heard you’ve been sent to Bellgrave,” Briar said.
