His hand tightens around mine, a feeble but determined grip. His words are slow, pausing every so often to drag in a shallow breath. “Precious child… you have not failed me. Brigid has guided you and led you to your destiny. But now you must forge your path… together.”
His lavender eyes shift to where Finn is on one knee next to me. My father holds his free hand out to him, and Finn doesn’t hesitate to clasp it between both of his. “Moira was right about you. She always was… the most powerful of us. She will need you before the end. Fire is brightest… in the dark.”
Finn and I share a confused glance, obviously neither of us understanding. Then I remember he told me that King Braden started saying nonsensical things at the end, too, and it drives home the knowledge that I’m going to lose my father all over again.
Dragging in another stilted breath, he whispers to Finn, “Show her.”
They both jolt like receiving a shock. Caiden stops pacing to stand next to Bryn, drawing my attention, and my lips part on a gasp. The crackling energy has turned to gold sparks firing off around us, and Bryn’s hair is practically standing on end. Her face is drained of color, and she’s visibly shaking with the effort it’s taking her to hold her power.
“Bryn, it’s time to stop.” When she doesn’t respond, he crouches down, getting as close as he dares. His voice when he speaks again is low and sharp, like the crack of a whip. “Beauty, enough.”
Her eyes snap open just as the light from her power dims to nothing and the air in the room returns to normal. She slumps to the side, but Caiden catches her and scoops her up in his arms. Before he carries her off to tend to her, she looks at me in earnest. “Say goodbye, Taryn. Hurry.”
Panic flares within me as I gaze back down at my father, the room fading away until it’s just the two of us. I can feel him slipping away now that Bryn is no longer preventing it. His strength is quickly waning, and the wound in his chest seeps with a fresh wave of blood.
I do my best to hold my emotions in check and be brave for him in this moment, but I can’t stem the unrelenting tears streaming down my face. Swallowing around the fist in my throat, I press his bloodied hand to my cheek and hold it there. “I love you, Athair,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Is breá liom tú, mo iníon luachmhar.” I love you, my precious daughter. He takes one more shuddering breath, his chest barely rising from the effort before he utters his final words. “Remember to…believe… in your fire.”
And then he is still.
The silence that follows is deafening, the finality of his death a harsh blow. I collapse over him, my body wracked with sobs. Finn’s arms wrap around me, his presence a small comfort in the storm of my sorrow.
Finn’s voice is gentle and quiet near my ear. “He’s at peace now, sweetheart.”
I nod. But peace for me feels a world away as I cling to my father’s lifeless body, the grief consuming me in waves. Each breath I take is a struggle, every heartbeat a reminder of what I’ve lost for a second time.
“Moy sever, I am sorry for your pain.” Dmitri’s hand settles on my shoulder, his voice unusually thick with emotion. “Come, sestra, we will give him the proper farewell.”
Sniffling, I swipe at the remaining tears on my face and mentally pull my mask back on. “We need to catch up with Edevane. We don’t have time for a Remembrance Ceremony.”
Finn holds out his hand and helps me to my feet. “We’ll make time. It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate, but he deserves the honor of a ritual pyre so his ashes can find their way to Mag Mell.”
Conall approaches with Connor padding over at his side. “You said yourself that time moves slower in Faerie, and we were already willing to give Edevane forty-eight hours before crossing the veil. Let us do this for you, Taryn.”
“Let us do it for your father, to honor his sacrifice,” Finn adds.
“And yours,” Caiden says, returning.
I’m almost too afraid to ask. “Bryn?”
“She’ll be fine after she rests.”
“Thank gods.” The only thing that could’ve made this moment worse is if Bryn or her baby were hurt giving me the gift of saying goodbye.
“You and Finn go on ahead,” Caiden says. “We’ll take care of your father and meet you topside.”
A tangle of emotions constricts around my heart like choking vines. Anguish and anger twine together, piercing the muscle with razored thorns, while the budding flowers of loyalty and love struggle to bloom amidst the pain. But feeling the caress of their soft petals as I take in this found family around me.
“Thank you,” I say roughly. “All of you.”
As we prepare to honor my father’s memory, I feel a new resolve hardening within me. Athair’s sacrifice, his love, will not be in vain.
TWENTY-NINETARYN
The desert night is a tapestry of deep indigos and purples, the sky scattered with a million shimmering stars. The air is still and cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the day, and the vast expanse around us feels both desolate and infinite.
A faint breeze carries the scent of sagebrush and the mahogany wood of the furniture the guys broke up and hauled out of the casino to construct a makeshift funeral pyre. They’re preparing to send my father off in the way of our people, a ritual as ancient as our lineage, and as they work, I am struck by the finality of it all.
I tried helping them but was gently—and firmly—turned down. I didn’t have the energy to argue when Finn guided me a fair distance away to sit with him on an outcropping of rocks while Caiden, Dmitri, and the Woulfe brothers take care of things with Bryn resting inside the truck nearby.
Sitting between Finn’s legs, I find comfort in his strong arms wrapped around me from behind. His breath is soft against my ear, his steady heartbeat a counterpoint to my erratic one. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he holds me tighter, his silent presence a balm for my fractured soul.
I lean back into him, closing my eyes and letting the night sounds wash over me—the distant murmur of voices, the stacking of wood, the rustle of nocturnal creatures. In this isolated corner of the world, it feels as if we are the only ones left, suspended in a moment of raw, unfiltered grief.
“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the desert's hush.
Finn’s arms tighten around me, his chin resting on the top of my head. “You don’t have to be ready,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it one breath at a time.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but the ache in my chest remains. “I wish I’d had the chance to talk to him longer. I have so many questions about how he fit into all this. So many things I don’t understand.”
“Taryn, I need to tell you something,” he says solemnly.
Turning my body to the side so I can see his face, I study him warily. “Nothing good ever comes after those words, Finn.”
He brushes a stray curl away from my face. “This isn’t good or bad, I think it’s just…difficult. The last thing I want to do right now is make this harder for you than it already is.”
My heart pounds with trepidation. “We agreed we wouldn’t hold back information to protect the other person.”
