Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(96)

“Very much. But there isn’t time, not here and now.”

“Not here and now.”

“Then we finish the journey.” Riley looked at Doyle. “So say we all?”

“We finish. My woman needs her weapons.”

Riley’s eyebrows shot up—not just at the my woman, but because he spoke in Irish.

“In the chamber you share when you return, and garb suitable for what is to come.” Aegle laid a hand on Doyle’s arm. “You have only to ask. Such is our love, our gratitude. Only ask.”

The queen stepped back. “It is our greatest hope that you will return here, victorious, and together with all of Glass, we will watch the stars shine.”





CHAPTER TWENTY




As they started back, they passed servants, ladies-in-waiting, courtiers—as best Riley could figure. Each would stop, bow, or curtsy. It struck her as awkward as the dress.

“So that was our royal pep talk.”

“Wasn’t she beautiful?”

“I’ll give her that.” Riley nodded at Annika. “She lives up to her name. And she looked about what—sixteen? Had about two miles of red hair.”

“But it was like Sasha’s,” Annika said. “Like sunlight, in many braids.”

“Black.” Sawyer twirled his fingers. “Curls.”

Riley stopped on the stairs. “Red—Titian red, long and loose. Emerald green eyes. Sasha?”

“Black, but swept up. Her eyes were more like yours, Riley, but a few shades deeper.”

“All things to all people.” Riley nodded as they continued. “We saw her as we imagined her—or somewhat. You spoke to her in Irish,” she said to Doyle.

“She was speaking in Irish.”

“English and Russian,” Sawyer said.

“She spoke to me in my mind once, in the language of the merpeople.”

“Of all the strange, I guess it’s not the strangest,” Riley considered.

“And it wasn’t just a pep talk. She gave us something.” Sasha looked down at her own hand. “She gave us light. Didn’t you feel it?”

“I felt something,” Riley admitted. “Let’s hope it works.”

“We make it work. We’re ending it, and Nerezza, today.”

Riley turned to Doyle. “Sir Pessimism’s taking a turn on the Optimistic Highway.”

“She looked like you,” he said shortly.

“She what?”

“I saw you. That’s who she was, the form, for me. Whatever the hell it means, we make it work. We’re not losing this. I’m not losing you. So we end it. Gear up. Let’s get moving.”

He stalked off.

“Doyle’s happy,” Annika said. “He loves Riley. He’s going to get her a ring.”

“We’ll worry about the last part after we end the bitch. And I’m damned if I’m doing it in a dress.”

She peeled off, followed Doyle.

He stood studying the new items in the wardrobe. “You’ll be happier with this.”

“She looked like me?”

He took out Riley’s gunbelt, set in on a table. “I didn’t know you when you were sixteen, but yes. Your face, your hair, your eyes. Those are eyes I trust, and that’s what I felt. We’re not going to lose this.”

“All right then.” Riley put her hands on her hips, scanned her wardrobe choices. “This is more like it.”

In sturdy trousers and a leather vest with pockets for extra clips, she went back to the sitting room with Doyle. She picked up a hide canteen, sniffed the contents. “Water.” And strapped it on cross body. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Sasha and Bran joined them. Bran patted a leather satchel. “Salvaged from the boat. A few light bombs.”

“Water.” Riley offered Sasha a skin. “Any idea how long a hike?”

“I don’t know.” She turned when Annika and Sawyer came in. “I guess this is it. I thought—it seemed—as if we came together to find the stars, get them here. But this is it. We’re guardians, and it’s always been leading here.”

“We will guide you to the path.”

The three goddesses stood in the doorway of the terrace, backed by the warm light of the sun.

They walked together, two by two, down to a courtyard where a fountain spewed rainbows, where flowers soared and spilled and fruit dripped from trees like glossy jewels.

People stood in silent respect. Children raced and waved.

They moved through a gate, past a grove, then a green field where a man and the boy working with him stopped, doffed their caps.

Riley heard the cluck of chickens, the coo of doves, the throaty hum of bees. A woman with a little girl on her hip smiled at Riley, dropped a quick curtsy. The little girl blew kisses. Others stood outside of cottages, tidy as postcards, hats in hands or hands on hearts.

In a small bay, fishermen stopped casting their nets and saluted.

“The people of Glass are with you.” Luna gestured as they crossed a stretch of white sand toward the path. Flowers and baskets of fruit, glinting stones, pearly shells heaped at the verge. “Offerings to the guardians, and wishes for a good journey.”