Epilogue
T he stones beneath her dug offensively into Emer’s body. They pressed against her knees, hips, shoulders, and face. The hissing waves lapped at her feet like angry serpents, but she could not be bothered to move. She was so tired.
Something tugged at her memories, though, something important that she could not quite recall. The next tug she felt was not metaphorical. It was not hypothetical. It was a gentle tug on her braid.
A curious set of eyes stared back at her. A young boy with shocking white hair stared down at her, grinning. His pale blue eyes searched hers, looking for what she realized was recognition.
“Alabaster?”
The word came out as a choked sob, and his answer was to smile at her wider.
“It’s Coal, actually,” he corrected. “I am sorry you died, Miss Emer. Would you like a hug?”
Emer gasped as the memories flooded back to her, along with the realization that her once-feathered friend had kept his word. She had died and he had waited.
She pushed herself up and rocked back on her knees. Coal, taking that as acceptance of his offer, wrapped his arms around her middle. His tiny body held her tightly as if he could see all the slivers of her ready to break apart.
For a moment, though, her grief was eclipsed by her surprise. Alabaster, Calder’s intimus, the being sent to heal his soul, was a boy of no more than eight, and he was hugging her because she was dead.
“Raven or Fae?” a deep voice asked.
Emer’s eyes shot to those of the Elder looming over her.
“Which do you think will come for you? My coin has always been on Keane.”