Island of Glass
Page 99

“I wished for Sawyer, with all my heart, and my wish was granted. I kept my oath, and my people can have pride. I have a new family, and we have promised to come together.”
“Child of the sea, your heart is so kind. Would you not ask for the one thing still held inside it?”
Now Annika bowed her head. “The moon must turn, my lady, for the worlds to be. I can’t ask.”
“The moon will turn, and you may ask.”
“But I . . .” She lifted her head, eyes wide and full of hope. “The legs? I could keep them, walk with Sawyer?”
“If this is your wish. Daughter of the sea, and of the land. Would you wish to be of both worlds?”
“Oh, yes! Sawyer.”
“Wait. She wouldn’t have to give up her parents, her sisters, her people?”
“She has, as you have, given all. She gives up nothing. Yes,” Aegle said, smiling back at Annika. “There can be children.”
Tears sprang to Annika’s eyes as she laughed, flung her arms around the queen. Riley braced, waiting for lightning to strike at the breach in protocol. But the queen only laughed in turn.
“You are joy, and deserve to have it.”
“Thank you, thank you. Sawyer!” Annika whirled, threw her arms around him. “I can walk and dance with you. We can make children.”
When she whispered in his ear, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, we can do that, right after the party.” Heart in his eyes, he looked over Annika’s head to the queen. “Thank you.”
“You would not ask it for yourself. You are well matched. Our blessings on you.”
She turned to Doyle and Riley. “Doyle McCleary, Riley Gwin, you have only to ask.”
“I have a million questions,” Riley began, and made Aegle smile.
“This is not a wish, but study. You may stay or come back as you will, and learn. The Island of Glass is forever open to you. If you stay, time is different here. You would have more.”
“No. No,” Doyle said, firm. “You have work, you have your pack. We’re fine,” he said to Riley.
“It is for her to ask or not. Would you give up the moon, Riley Gwin, the change and the wolf?”
“I—” Everything inside her knotted. “It’s who I am. Doyle—”
“It’s who I love.” To cut her off, he gripped her hands. “You thought I meant to strike you down that night, the first change, after the battle. But I was struck. And began to change. Those eyes, ma faol. No, you give up nothing.”
“It’s who I am.” Content, Riley turned back to the queen. “Having the door open here, that’s a great gift to me. Thank you for it.”
“I would have been sorry if you’d chosen differently.”
As Aegle spoke, Riley saw the deer leaping over the path, the doe who came out of the woods, the woman holding a little girl on her hip, the rosy-cheeked maid who’d filled her bath.
“You’re a shapeshifter.”
“I am in all, of all. I was always with you. And you,” she said to Doyle. “Will you ask?”
“I have family again, and with them succeeded where I’d failed for three centuries. I have my wolf.”
“The dark marked you, giving you what some men seek, knowing it would bring you grief. Light can lift it. Would you cast away immortality?”
“It can’t be done. Even Bran—” Doyle caught the look in Bran’s eye. “It can?”
“I asked, and was shown. It can be done.”
“Hold on. Not for me,” Riley insisted. “And not on impulse. Dying’s no picnic, and—”
“Three centuries doesn’t qualify as impulse.” Hope, real hope brought a kind of pain.
Bittersweet.
“A life with you? A real one? Really living, knowing a day is precious and finite? It’s what I want. It’s more than I ever thought to have.”
“Then you must accept.” Aegle held out her hand. A servant rushed forward, gave her a glass goblet. “From your brother.”
Bran took the goblet, and a vial of clear liquid from his pocket. “This is the water of life, conjured of light. Its purity defeats the dark, breaks the curse.” He poured the water into the goblet. “If you choose to be mortal, drink.”
Doyle studied the water, thought of his life, the deaths, the battles, the long roads traveled alone.
He lifted the goblet to Bran, then to Sasha, to Annika and Sawyer in turn. And last to Riley.
To the love of his true life.
“I want a pack of kids,” he said, and drank.
“Wh— What?”
“You heard me.” He waited a beat. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Be glad you didn’t do a Nerezza and age three centuries. Define pack.”
“We’ll talk about it.” He turned to the queen. “The first girl of our pack will have your name. However many days I have from this night, I’ll be grateful.”
“Well matched. I see an adventurous life ahead. Blessings on all of you. A queen may reign with kindness and care, with wisdom and justice, people may prosper, but without those who will risk all to stand against evil, no world can flourish.”
There was music and feasting, wine and joy. The color of sweeping skirts, the sparkle of light. Late in the night, amid the celebration, the queen and her goddesses led the way to the beach.
Arianrhod held out the sword cased in a simple leather sheath. “This is yours.”