Wayfinder

“For Annwn, maybe. My world didn’t come out of it so well. Rhiannon, your … majesty? Your …”

Amusement rushed across Rhiannon’s face. “My people call me ‘lady,’ mortal child.”

“Lady,” Lara echoed with relief. “My lady, is there anything you can do for my world? For Oisín’s world? The staff was used there—you must know that, you were the—” She broke off, unnerved by Rhiannon’s wide-eyed gaze. The goddess either had no sense of or no emotional connection to the destruction she had wrought from within her ivory prison, and after a few seconds Lara swallowed and offered the explanation Rhiannon seemed to have no awareness of. “The staff was used there and part of a city was destroyed. I know our world is iron-laden and unfriendly to the Seelie, but …”

Surprise, then slight regret sluiced over Rhiannon’s features. “Seelie magic isn’t meant to be worked in the mortal world, Truthseeker. Annwn takes from, but never gives to your world. Not willingly.” She glanced at Oisín predatorily, then considered the newly risen land, breathing deeply of its rich fresh scent. “But Annwn is renewed, and I am in your debt. Truthseeker, wayfinder, worldbreaker, gatekeeper. For a little while, mortal child, you may stand between this world and yours. Through you, perhaps some of Annwn’s health will flow to your broken citadel. It is the best I can do.” More, her voice warned: it was all she would do. “Do not let the gate be passed through too often, lest the payment be stripped from your bones.”

“I won’t. Thank you.” Lara knuckled her hands against her mouth, swallowing down the feeling of her heart trying to escape a sudden influx of fear and hope, then turned to Oisín. “Come back for a little while, if you can. I have the stories of the Drowned Lands to tell you. I promised them I’d have you write them down.”

Fascination lit the old poet’s face, and he nodded. “We’ll cross paths again, Truthseeker. Stay away from prophets in the meanwhile, if you can.”

“I’ll try. Take care of yourself, Oisín.”

Insult came into Rhiannon’s voice. “I will take care of him.”

Lara grinned, stepping back. “I meant no disrespect.”

Rhiannon huffed, a soft offended sound that reminded Lara of Aerin. She smiled as the two ancients, one immortal and the other not, walked past her to fade into the landscape without a whisper of glamour to set Lara’s senses awry.

Ioan got to his feet, diffident as he half-looked Dafydd’s way. “We have much to do here. Homes to rebuild, old wounds to heal. You will … join us when you’re ready?”

“I will.” Dafydd put his hand in Lara’s again. Aerin watched them a moment before she nodded and walked with Ioan, leaving Lara and Dafydd behind.

“A mortal lifespan,” Dafydd said when they were well out of earshot. Like Ioan had with him, he didn’t quite look at Lara, nervousness betrayed in the angled glance.

Hope and humor clenched Lara’s heart. “That’s not really the kind of thing you should decide quickly.”

“No. But here, even a mortal life span can be …” Dafydd smiled carefully. “Forever.”

“Nearly forever.” Lara bit her lower lip, then squeezed Dafydd’s hand and faced him, words tumbling in her haste to have them spoken: “I want to go home, Dafydd. She said gatekeeper, and not to abuse it, so I could. We could. For a little while. To see what’s happened to Boston and to make sure Kelly and Dickon are all right and to repay that newspaper vendor and maybe to let my mother get to know you. And I’d like to go back to the tailor shop and finish my apprenticeship even if it won’t mean anything here, but it’s only another year and it’d make me happy and the worldwalking spell could make it so almost no time passes here—”

Dafydd laughed, stopping her rushed speech. “Yes and yes and yes. We have time, Lara. We have so much time. Even in mortal years spent in the mortal world, we have so much time, and if we choose mortal years spent here, we have forever.” His grin broadened. “And you know what that means.”

A certainty of what he would say burst through Lara and turned to a broad smile of her own. “Don’t say it.”

“I have to.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t like fairy tales.”

Dafydd grinned, pulling Lara close. “And yet here you are, participating in one. I believe that means, Truthseeker—”

“Shh. Stop it.” Lara put a finger over his lips, though she couldn’t stop her burgeoning laughter.

“And it should be you saying it, with the power of prophecy in your voice—”

“I’m not going to say it. And if I were even a little bit superstitious, I would say you saying it will jinx it.”

“But you are not,” Dafydd whispered, and lifted a hand to cup her jaw, to trace her mouth with his thumb before kissing her again, this time soft and lingering and slow. “And so I’ll risk it, and you’ll hear the truth in my voice, Truthseeker, when I say you and I will live happily,” a kiss, “ever,” another kiss, and Lara, smiling, whispered the last word with him:

“After.”

BY C. E. MURPHY

THE WORLDWALKER DUOLOGY

Truthseeker

Wayfinder

THE INHERITORS’ CYCLE

The Queen’s Bastard

The Pretender’s Crown

THE WALKER PAPERS

Urban Shaman

Thunderbird Falls

Coyote Dreams

Walking Dead

Demon Hunts

Spirit Dances

THE OLD RACES UNIVERSE:

The Negotiator Trilogy:

Heart of Stone

House of Cards

Hands of Flame

THE STRONGBOX CHRONICLES: written as Cate Dermody

The Cardinal Rule

The Firebird Deception

The Phoenix Law

WITH MERCEDES LACKEY AND TANITH LEE

Winter Moon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

C. E. (Catie) MURPHY is the author of two urban fantasy series (The Walker Papers and The Negotiator Trilogy); The Inheritors’ Cycle, which includes The Queen’s Bastard and The Pretender’s Crown; and Truthseeker. Her hobbies include photography and travel, though she rarely pursues enough of either. She was born and raised in Alaska, and now lives in her ancestral home of Ireland with her family and cats.