“Will it work?” Briar asked.
“You haven’t told us the idea.”
Briar released Rowan’s hand and drew up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the marks beneath. “If we all gave a tithe… If everyone in the town did willingly, would that be enough?”
Niamh smiled cannily. “One way to find out, boy.”
Someone got Briar a piece of charcoal. It felt too light in his hand for what he was about to do. Rowan knelt in front of him first. He trusted Briar, even after everything. The whole town was willing to try. It moved something in Briar that had once felt unshakable. A sharp, painful support strut was now dislodged, but the people around him were enough to keep him standing.
“Should we put it somewhere less visible?” Briar said.
Rowan said, “I’d wear it proudly.”
There was no symbol Briar knew for a spell like this, so he invented one. From the hollow of Rowan’s clavicle to the bump of his Adam’s apple, Briar drew a vertical line. Then two diagonal ones, so it looked like the letter Y. From this, he added branches, making it more treelike. It seemed right. The forest was nothing without its trees, and Coill Darragh was nothing without its people, who were not unlike trees themselves. Sturdy, long-lived, entwined together.
He finished drawing. Rowan stood, and Maebh took his place. Her stern expression softened a little as Briar began to draw.
“If he’s forgiven you, then so have I,” she said.
Briar blinked back a surge of feeling. “Don’t speak or I’ll mess it up.”
Sorcha came next. Then Connor. Ciara was too young—despite her tantrum, everyone agreed only adults would give a tithe. Then came Diarmuid, Aisling, countless faces Briar recognized from his time in Coill Darragh. Some wore clothes he’d crafted himself, tinged with the familiar touch of his magic. With each tithe drawn, he felt a burgeoning need to tell them how much he’d come to love this place. He sensed they already knew.
Niamh was last. Briar hesitated. “You already tithed to help me.”
“No need to twist my arm. I’ll give another.”
As he drew, many of Briar’s burning questions rose to the surface. The wrinkles of her neck made it impossible to make the lines completely straight, though he did his best. “You were wrong,” he said. He could at least talk to Niamh about the prophecy, if no one else. As he opened his mouth, he felt magic enfolding them, their words transmitted only to one another. “You told me Linden was the man who’d lead me to success.”
“I said nothing of the like.”
“You said a man with a mask and a stone heart.”
“The prophecy refers to Rowan, not Linden.”
Briar stopped drawing. “But he’s not masked atall. Not even alittle. He’s been himself the whole time. He’s not stone-hearted or difficult to read. And besides, your tarot reading said I’d die if I chose him.” He paused. “Which, I suppose, I still will.”
She waited as he finished a finicky line. “He is different with you than he is with me. Or anyone. So, I suppose, I spoke the prophecy using what I knew of him.”
“Well, how’s that helpful?” Briar muttered, finishing another stroke. “If I’m the one living the prophecy, shouldn’t it account formyperspective?”
“Perhaps it did,” she said. “It’s funny, the way Fate works. I often wonder if it misleads us on purpose. What would have become of us if you hadn’t gone to Pentawynn? If you hadn’t discovered Linden’s true nature? I believe, by the way, you already made the correct choice set out by the cards. Youdidgo on a journey with Linden to Pentawynn, though it broke your heart to do it. There’s hope yet for your health and prosperity to follow.”
Briar could have screamed. He didn’t know if he could hold out for that hope, not with his hand shaking so badly he struggled to draw. The pitfalls of her prophecies irked him. “You made it sound like I had to choose one of them as my soulmate. Forever!”
“You interpreted it that way. It’s not what I said.”
Briar scoffed. “You’re saying I was destined to misinterpret it so I could fulfill everything properly. If it was all preordained, why give me a prophecy at all? Why not just let me walk the path set for me?”
“Who knows how much your path diverted as a result of hearing what I saw?”
Briar stopped. He only had one line left, but he was furious. “Niamh.
I hate that!” She laughed.
“It’s not funny!” He waited for her to stop laughing. When she did, he decided to have the last word. “I’m not stupid just because I don’t see things the same way. You shouldn’t be telling your apprentices they’re stupid.”
She hummed. “You could be right about that.” The tithe was done. Everyone had one. It was time.
