“I had to look for you, Rhi. You weren’t at dinner with your kin, nor in your room, nor outside the grounds.”

“Sorry. I just wasn’t in the mood to go to dinner tonight. I needed some time alone. That’s why I came here.”

Grandmum looked around. “Did you create this yourself?”

“Aye.”

“Do you bring your cousins here?”

“No.”

“Smart girl. You know, it took me centuries to be able to create my own sacred space out of thin air, Rhi. When did you start?”

“When I was six.”

“Well, let’s never discuss that again.” Her grandmother placed a book open in front of her. “Do you recognize this rune?”

“I do.”

“Do you know the god it belongs to?”

“I do.”

“Have you talked to him?”

Rhi nodded. “Aye.”

“Often?”

“No, no. Just once.” She leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t really like him.”

“Did you make him go away?”

“No. That was Talwyn. She really didn’t like him. I think the fact that he not only didn’t have eyes but no eye holes, really bothered her. She charged him with her sword. She was eight.”

Grandmum put her talons to her temples and closed her eyes.

“You all right, Grandmum?”

“Just a bit of a headache.”

“Oh.” Rhi adjusted the sky so that it wasn’t so vibrantly blue and instead was a soft and soothing pink. “Is that better?”

Grandmum opened her eyes and blinked up at the sky. “Did you just do that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know, love, you don’t seem to have a problem controlling all this. Yet you can’t seem to control other aspects of your power. I find that surprising.”

“I can control this because I’m not upset. Or angry. And I haven’t seen Talwyn and Talan all day, so I haven’t had to get in the middle of one of their fights.” She made her hands into fists. “I hate when they fight,” she growled out.

“They’re not fighting,” her grandmum soothed. “It’s just us.”

Rhi let out a breath and unclenched her hands. “Exactly.”

“Um . . . Rhi?”

“Yes?”

“Did Chramn—”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Does it have power?”

“No, it’s just ugly sounding.”

“Right. Okay. Well . . . that particular god’s rune. Do you know why anyone would tattoo it into their flesh?”

“Only those in his cult.”

“He has a cult?”

“When he came to me, I don’t think he did.”

“But he does now?”

“I sensed he was planning one.”

“Planning a cult?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you know this because—”

“I remember him saying he wanted me as his chosen one and there would be thousands, perhaps millions worshipping my existence.”

“You’re his chosen one?”

“No. He wanted me to be his chosen one. I don’t think I was anything to him.”

“And you turned down the worship of millions?”

“Grandmum,” Rhi said, exasperated, “if you think Daddy’s bad now about calling me and Iz his perfect, perfect daughters. . . imagine if I had the worship of millions? Millions! And you know what would happen then? Uncle Fearghus and Uncle Gwenvael would have to kill him because Daddy wouldn’t stop going on about it. And with Uncle Éibhear rarely being here, he wouldn’t be able to stop them. Honestly, I did it for the best of the family.

“Besides,” she said in a whisper and pointing at her face, “he had no eye holes. I try not to judge, Grandmum, and people are tragically born with all sorts of problems every day. But he’s a god! Are you telling me he couldn’t get that fixed?” Rhi pressed her hand to her face, chewed on her lip a bit. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

Grandmum pressed her snout to the side of Rhi’s face. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, Rhianwen, but you are truly worthy to be my granddaughter.”

“Aww, thanks, Grandmum.” Izzy reached up and hugged her grandmother’s snout. “I love you, too.”

“Now,” Grandmum said, pulling away, “we’ve got some work to do. You up for it?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

Grandmum looked around again at the space Rhi had made herself when she was six and tired of the twins’ constant bickering. After a moment, she smiled at Rhi, and said, “I think this will do.”

Chapter 29

They were escorted down a long tunnel to a chamber. It wasn’t as large as some of the other chambers Éibhear had seen in this underground cave, but it was comfortable enough, with a bed, table, chairs, and a fire pit and freshly slaughtered cow piled right outside the entrance.

“We’ll come fetch you when it’s time for dinner,” the guard said.

“Are you expecting us to stay?” Éibhear demanded.

Because he had no intention of staying. No desire to. He wanted to get Izzy out of here and someplace safe. But the king had insisted they take this chamber and now it seemed he was insisting—through his guards—that they had to have dinner with him. And since everyone around here followed his bloody orders, Éibhear actually had little say in the matter.