“Aye, lass. I think that you do.”
“And if he believes me, if he stops sustaining the curse with his grief?—”
“Then maybe, finally, it ends.”
I stood, slipping Gran’s ring back on my finger.
“Wait. Agnes, you need to tell Sophie first. Tell the Order. We should plan?—”
“There’s no time for planning.” The ring was burning now, insistent, pulling me toward the door. “I can feel it, Quilliam. This is the moment. If I wait, if I let myself think about it too long, I’ll lose my nerve.”
“At least wake Graham. Don’t do this alone.”
“If I wake Graham, he’ll try to come with me. And if he comes anywhere near that loch...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “I have to do this alone. It’s the only way to keep him safe.”
“Agnes—”
“If something goes wrong, tell them everything. Tell them about the diary, about Isobel, about the Cailleach. Tell them the curse isn’t the Beithir’s fault, that he’s been used, just like his father was.” I met his eyes. “Tell Graham I love him and tell him I’m sorry.”
Before Quilliam could argue further, I was out the door.
The castle corridors were dark and silent. I moved quickly, not letting myself think, knowing I would hesitate if I did. The ring seemed to guide me, urging me on up the stairs, through passages, until I reached a side door that led out to the grounds.
The night air hit my face like a slap. It was cold and sharp and carried the dampness of the loch across the gardens to me, beckoning me forward.
I stomped across the grounds, impervious to the icy air, solely focused on the one place that I was meant to go all along.
Loch Mirren.
Her waters were dark and still under the moonlight, calm, as though waiting for me.
Somewhere beneath that surface, the Beithir was waiting too. A creature raised on grief and rage.Such a long time to be controlled by understandable outrage.How would I convince him that he’d been sustaining a curse he didn’t even create, feeding it with hatred that had been manipulated into him by something far darker?
Will he listen?Now that I knew my purpose, would I be enough to convince him that we weren’t the enemy? That he wasn’t my enemy?
He was another victim.
And I was going to tell him the truth.Goddess, be with me.
Lifting my chin, I ignored the nerves that twisted low in my stomach and walked steadily down the slope toward the loch, the ring burning on my finger, and Gran’s pen heavy against my hip.
Behind me, the castle slept on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRAHAM
The scream ripped me from sleep.
It was a sound I’d heard before, and one that always managed to turn my blood to ice. It had me on my feet before my eyes were fully open, my heart slamming against my ribs, my breath coming in sharp gasps.
My hand shot out and found the bed empty.
The sheets were cold next to me, which meant Agnes had been gone for a while.
“Agnes?”
The scream came from the loch again. It was a sound like horses dying and storms breaking and every nightmare I’d ever had rolled into one unholy chorus.
