The Muse though?
She had seen it. Seen the way he used to be – all the great and terrible things.
Being back in her presence his brain stirred, all the creativity he’d smothered, the ideas and inventions he’d suppressed, sketching themselves through a mind that had focused only on tonics and children for so long. He nearly crushed the poppy.
He took a seat in an armchair that overlooked the candlelit greenhouse, the silk sliding beneath him.
‘No.’ He gazed out at the dark city. ‘And at this point, I don’t know how to tell them.’
She made a thoughtful sound.
‘Do the Others know about you?’ he asked.
She chuckled, the sound a heady hum. ‘No. There are some benefits to a cage like this. It keeps me hidden. But it is still a cage.’
‘So, you don’t want me to leave the key when I go?’
Her lips curved up. ‘Would you?’
‘You and I worked alongside one another for a long time, Lennán Síde.No one deserves to live this secluded. Especially not you.’
‘They’ll notice the key’s gone.’
He shrugged. ‘Objects of ward magic go missing all the time, or hide themselves away for optimal security. Who’s to say the key won’t disappear itself, as part of its purpose to keep this place secure?’
A smile curved her voluptuous lips. ‘The second I leave this place the Others will come looking for me. No, until you find Freya’s clues, I’ll remain here. Then, maybe we’ll talk.’
Ronan nodded. ‘And you won’t tellmethe clue?’
Her smile grew. ‘I won’t tell a soul until they bring me my glass flower.’
He smiled then, too. ‘Freya would be pleased.’
Fond silence fell between them.
‘I’m sorry that you lost her.’ Her words were as melancholic as so many of her paintings.
Ronan watched the poppy – its delicate red petals. Thought of fate. Of how fleeting life could be, despite having lived so long. How no eternity would have been enough.
The epic grief of it threatened to take him. He’d been so careful over the years to not let it destroy him. He couldn’t lose himself to it when his children needed him. He needed a sharp mind, a honed body. Yet it lived inside him like it was more a part of him than the last kernel of his power. More life-changing, more eternal.
‘They took her from me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to make sure they can’t take anyone else.’
‘They’ll kill you and you know it. You’re not strong enough. Not after what they did to you.’
‘I will be, if I build my power back up.’
He met her gaze as realisation flickered in it. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘I’m protecting my kids.’
If the Muse could breathe, she would have sighed now. A deep, relishing sigh. ‘Your greatest creations.’
‘Yes. Except they were made by the love of two people. Not hubris.’
The Muse stilled and turned her head as if someone had spoken behind her. ‘The Siren girl … she’s harp-touched. I could see it over her like an immortal radiance, but now I feel it. Hear it.’
A low twist of concern had him rising. ‘Hear what?’
