Sage grinned. “Marcus taught me.” She looked fondly at Marcus, who slept on his side beside her.
As Sage’s face softened, Willow smiled. “You love him.”
A grin stretched Sage’s lips. “I really do.”
Willow cast a glance at Christian, and her heart melted. Even asleep, Christian looked like a god, the sculpted muscles of his chest rising and falling with his breathing, and the black curl she loved resting on his forehead. Willow’s stomach clenched. She knew exactly how Sage felt. She bowed her head and scanned the parchment pages spread on the ground. She wished she could help Sage, but she didn’t know how to figure things like this out. Sage was the one who was able to work locks and figure out codes.
But Willow knew how to get her mind off the work for a moment. “Look at Raven,” she whispered.
Sage glanced at their oldest sister, curled up beside Landyn. He had his arm around her.
Willow raised her eyebrows. “It’s a strange sight, but I like Landyn.”
Sage nodded in agreement. “She replaced a sword for a man.”
Willow tilted her head, confused.
“Raven always had a sword in her hand. Now she has Landyn at her side.”
Willow stifled laughter. “True.” Her merriment faded, and she turned her gaze speculatively to the red book on the ground. “So, let’s say the directions started in London. We would have to go to England?”
Sage nodded. “That’s the plan.” She stared at the maps again.
Unease surged inside Willow, and she swallowed heavily. They would have to cross the English Channel on a ship. Travel over water that was over her head. And she couldn’t swim. None of them could. She didn’t mind streams or rivers that weren’t over her head. It was the thought of not being able to touch the bottom—of being swallowed by the waves and water crashing over her head, dragging her down until she couldn’t breathe—that sent terror through her. “What about the horses?”
Sage shrugged. “We’ll bring them with us.”
Willow looked down at the ground. “Mercy doesn’t like water.”
Sage’s eyes darted to Willow, and her mouth dropped open with a sharp gasp. “That’s right. You don’t like water.”
Willow wouldn’t meet her stare. “It’s not that I don’t like water. It’s just that I don’t like drowning.”
“Ever since you were little and slipped into that lake. Raven had to jump in and pull you out. She was so mad that you made her get her boots wet.”
How could Willow forget? She closed her eyes and saw the water, dark and chill, closing over her head as she thrashed her arms, trying to stay above the water, trying to breathe. She shook the memory away and stared at the red book, feeling sick with fear. “Are there any maps of France in the book?” Maybe they wouldn’t have to cross water.
Sage sighed in sympathy. “Some. Don’t worry. I haven’t figured out which map the directions are for.”
“But you will,” Willow whispered and bowed her head. There was no doubt Sage would find the map. A sense of foreboding washed over Willow like a cold rain. She rose unsteadily. “Get some sleep.” She had come to soothe Sage, and now, she was the nervous one.
“Oh!” Sage held out a hand, palm out. “Wait. I copied this for you.” She searched through the parchment, spreading it on the ground. Her slender fingers moved through the papers until she found what she sought. She snatched it up and held it out to Willow.
Willow grasped the page in confusion. She couldn’t read. Why would Sage give her a piece of parchment? But it wasn’t words on the yellowed page. A smile drifted over Willow’s lips. It was a flower.
“I thought you might like it. It was on the cover of Christian’s book,” Sage explained.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, staring at the sketch. She turned back toward Christian.
And froze. Dread slammed into her, so deep and heavy that she thought she might suffocate. The book Brother Nicolas had given her resurfaced in her mind, the red book of maps. She recognized the flower.
“Will, are you well?” Sage asked.
Willow nodded and quickly crossed the room to Christian’s side. She dropped down beside him, snuggling against him, searching for comfort. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. But even his warmth couldn’t allay the terror welling within her.
Shivers racked her body as she stared at the flower on the parchment. It was on one of the maps Sage said was in England, across the English Channel. She trembled as the memory of the dark water consumed her.
Christian opened his eyes, squinting against the grogginess that fogged his mind. Instinctively, he reached for Willow but found the spot next to him empty. He sat up, the blanket falling from his body, and ran his hands through his tangled hair. He slowly stretched out his arms, his joints popping as he yawned. He scanned the room for Willow. He wondered how late it was. Or early. It was impossible to tell what time it was in the dark cave.
