A slow burning ache began in my feet and calves. Our hands became sweaty and hot. I continuously wiped my brow.

Light appeared up ahead. Balen distinguished his flame. The floor had become flatter and finally we reached stone pavement. The walls were also made of stone, and the path to the light had become tall and narrow, so narrow that Balen’s shoulders nearly brushed the walls.

“Stop here.” He rested against the wall. “Let our eyes become accustomed to the daylight.”

I rested against the opposite wall, but I couldn’t tear my attention away from that light. “Dear Dagda. We were in Éire. That’s Éire out there.”

“And in here.” He smiled.

“What should we do?”

“You’re the one most versed in the land of Éire, not I.”

I gave him a flat look. Father’s books on the subject had been left back in Falias. Perfect. Thrust into a new world, and I was to be the expert. I raised my brow. “And what does that make you?”

His mouth quirked. “The muscle.”

Fighting a smile, I turned back to the rectangle of light. I pushed away from the wall, slipping by Balen to lead the way, knowing my guardian would follow. Knowing the sooner we began, hopefully the sooner we could return.

CHAPTER 15

I paused in the narrow stone archway, my heart, my breath, everything still and waiting. With one step, I’d be in the land of my father. Despite the dangers that faced us and the impossibility of our task, I couldn’t deny the excitement.

My heart swelled with memories of Father, of the stories he told of the people and the land. I smelled the sweet fragrance of grass, heard the rustle of leaves beyond. I’d finally come to the place I often thought of when I’d stand on the ramparts and let my hair fly free in the wind.

Balen waited behind me, still and quiet, allowing me this moment without interruption.

This land was my dream, but I knew, with a sinking heart, it would also be the land of nightmares. One or both of us might not return home. Once I stepped into the daylight, I’d never be the same.

“Deira let me go first.”

Sober, I flattened my back against the wall to let him pass, but he paused in front of me, the front of our clothes touching in the narrow space.

“You’ll tell me if Nox speaks to you.”

It wasn’t a request. I meet his steady gaze and agreed. It was the first he’d mentioned it after finding out in Eburacon’s chamber. I gestured toward the daylight. “Let’s just go. I’m ready.”

The air around him stirred, and I knew he was prepared for anything.

We stepped into the daylight.

I shielded my eyes, squinting at the rolling, grassy field and the edge of a forest. There was no shelter there, nowhere to hide unless we went back. I looked over my shoulder to see the passage. It was a built into a high mound covered in grass.

Balen caught my hand. “This way.”

My heart raced. The light was so warm on my face. I stumbled a few times, my attention on the land, the flowers in the field, the blue sky, and the bright golden light that bathed everything in wonderful warmth.

Laughter bubbled inside me.

When we reached the shelter of the forest, I was breathing hard and grinning.

Balen scanned the surroundings. The breeze stirred his black hair. He stood so straight and tall, imposing in his black chain mail and tunic. He must’ve felt my stare because he looked my way. And I was struck by the sight. “Your skin . . . it’s…” I didn’t know the word. It wasn’t a glow, but there was a luminous quality to it.

And then I remembered something my father had once told me. When the Sí—mankind’s name for all Danaans—came into the human realm, their skin took on a faint, Otherworldly glow. They said it was the light of their immortality shining through.

His watchful eyes took on an amused glint.

“Is mine?” I touched my face.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Aye. It is.”

I laughed. Desperate to hold onto the moment, needing to feel happy like this, if only for a short time, I put both hands on Balen’s shoulders and rose onto the tips of my toes. A look of surprise then heat filled his eyes as I kissed him softly on the mouth, closing my eyes, breathing in deeply as though I could draw him inside me. The scent of fire and leather, of salt and skin, flew through me and burst like a million sparks in my stomach.

His hands gripped my hips and pulled me closer. One of his hands went to my hair, twisting it as he cupped the back of my head. Our lips parted. Our tongues touched, and I had the sensation of leaping into a bright empty sky and soaring.

We kissed long and deep and slow, learning each other, taking our time. With each moment, heat grew in and around me. Pleasure and need coexisted. The memory of his hand on my naked skin in the underground lake made me want that again. I wanted him so much. Now. Right there.

I broke away, staggering back, shaken, feeling too full, too heavy with excitement and emotion.

Balen dragged unsteady fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath. He glanced around, worried about our open position, worried about protecting me, but wanting more from me. “This isn’t finished,” he promised.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so bold. “I know,” I said, then followed him into the woods.

After several minutes, my desire subsided and my thoughts turned to the task at hand. “Do you know Nox’s location?”

“No. We should find the fathá. They are—”

“The priests and lawgivers. My father spoke of them often. He said the fathá worship variations of the Ageless Ones. Their temple will be in or near a grove of oaks in the forest, hidden and old.”

“You are well informed then. We should pick up a trail at some point. Stay close.”

The ground was cushioned by layers of pine needles and leaves. The dense canopy of ancient trees inhibited new growth, so we had little to bar our way as we searched for a path. For a long time we followed animal trails.

My father had told me that we shared many things. We worshipped our ancestors as gods, the four Ageless Ones, and mankind worshipped them as well. Before the Old War, when the gates had been open, we traded freely. We shared a similar language, shared animals, livestock, flora, grains, and vegetables. I recognized plants and trees. Saw small shrubs and forest flowers that I’d seen many times over.

My father’s people had held Danaans in awe. To them we, too, were like gods, wielding magic and controlling the elements, possessing Otherworldly beauty and knowledge, and living forever.

I wanted to share my thoughts with Balen, but knew we must travel quietly.

Birds rustled the leaves. Animals scurried as we went by. There were no signs of man about, but still I felt watched. When the caw of the raven reverberated through the forest, my blood ran cold.

It landed on a branch in front of us, cocked its head, and stared at me.

Balen held out his arm. “Come, Drem.” The raven flew from its perch and onto Balen’s arm, which dipped from the weight of the large creature. The wings stretched wide then folded against its back.

“It followed us,” I said, bewildered and surprised by its presence.

“Ravens travel unencumbered between our lands. But here in Éire, Drem can only take the form of the simple raven.”

“I remember my father telling me about the ravens, that to see one meant death. To his people, they’re messengers of the gods and they never kill or harm them.”

Balen nodded. “That’s true.”

I didn’t trust the creature and didn’t like not knowing how the two were connected. And what the creature’s words had meant. He is mine and I am his.

* * *

With nightfall, we made camp. I washed my face and hands in a stream nearby then returned to see Balen sitting quietly near the campfire, chin resting on the tips of his fingers.

I settled across from him. “Where’s Drem?”

He shrugged.

I gathered my hair over one shoulder and began braiding it to keep it from tangling as I slept. “Is it male or female?”

“Neither. Both.”

Firelight reflected in Balen’s eyes as he studied me quietly. “When the god of fire created the War Ravens, it was not to procreate. It was to serve him. They cannot breed.”

“And what is your relationship with the War Raven? Does it serve you?”

He scrubbed a hand along his jaw, staring at the flames for a time before answering. “We share souls.” I hadn’t expected that. “When the Ageless Ones moved on from Innis Fail, the custody of the War Ravens fell to Sydhr’s descendants by right. He created them, used, and trained them. Only those who pass Challenge can join with the creature. Those leaders who came before me, and I myself, only passed Challenge because the creature recognized the blood of Sydhr in our veins. If it runs strong enough, if our power is strong enough, we are joined. If not, we die.”

“But you don’t control Drem. It comes and goes as it pleases.”

“I don’t control Drem any more than it controls me. But we protect each other. We must. Drem took a part of my soul, as I took a part of its.”

The idea that Balen did not possess his complete soul unnerved me. It didn’t seem natural or possible. I stared hard at him, trying to see a part of the creature within him, but I only saw him; the same fiery eyes, the same black hair, the same aura of relentless strength and conviction.

“How can one live like that? Are you not empty without all of your soul?”

“I was born to this. Within Drem is the breath of Sydhr. I don’t feel empty but full.” His head titled, eyes going narrow. “You don’t like Drem, do you?”

I couldn’t lie. Besides, my expression told him exactly what I thought of the creature. But Balen only chuckled. “Drem takes some getting used to.”

I raised my brow at that and shared a smile at his understatement. “So it can’t change form here in Éire?”

“No. But I am privy to its eyes and ears, and soon we’ll find our path to the Lia Fail.”