She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve got a long-term contraceptive implant, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No.” His flinch suggested he hadn’t thought that far. “I was more thinking about the others.
They’re probably going to try to throw us together. Not just because of what happened last night—
which I edited for public consumption, by the way—but because I’ve been hung up on finding you for a while. Ever since I saw your picture, in fact.”
“I’ll try to take that as a compliment,” she said, though it wasn’t easy.
“And then there are your dreams,” he continued.
“You imagined me before you met me.”
“I dreamed of a dark-haired, green-eyed man. That’s a coincidence.”
“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” he said, and it sounded like he was quoting something.
“There’s only the will of the gods.” The words echoed in Ambrose’s voice, as well. He’d been fond of saying things like that. Okay, technically he hadn’t said things like that. He’d said those exact words, time and again.
Sasha exhaled, feeling stretched very thin. “So which is it? Are we cooling things off, or did the gods themselves intend for us to be a couple?” Because that had to be where he was going with this.
“We’re cooling it,” he grated between clenched teeth, the obvious tension in his body belying his apparent conviction.
“Fine. Whatever.” She looked along the track, then back toward the compound. “You want to head back in? I don’t think I’m in the mood to walk anymore.” What she really meant was that she wasn’t in the mood to walk with him.
“Sasha . . .” He trailed off. Lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be putting all this on you at once.”
She had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d been about to say. When he didn’t continue, she shrugged irritably, hating that she’d let him matter too quickly. “I’m figuring out that you guys don’t have much of a choice, given the present circumstances. You know, ‘When in the triad years’ and all that.”
Michael stopped dead, his face draining. “You know the prophecy?”
“From Ambrose. He said my mother taught it to him.” She paused, unnerved by his expression.
“Why?”
“Because we’ve been busting our asses trying to find the whole thing, hoping to hell it’ll tell us what to expect next month, during the winter solstice.” Michael paused. Swallowed. “Do you know the rest of it?”
Instinct told her to lie, but the terrible hope etched in his face forced the words. “ ‘In the triad years, the daughter of the sky will defy love, conquer death, and find the lost son.’ ” She hesitated, then forced herself to go all the way. Taking a deep breath, she said, “My mother said I was the daughter of the sky. According to her, the triad prophecy is about me.”
CHAPTER NINE
After that announcement, Sasha quickly found herself the center of an all-hands-on-deck meeting in the main room. Michael sat her on one end of the big sofa and stood behind her as though guarding her —or perhaps making sure she didn’t bolt. Then he had her repeat what she’d told him about the library and, more important, the prophecy.
“ ‘In the triad years, the daughter of the sky will defy love, conquer death, and find the lost son,’ ” Strike repeated thoughtfully. “And you say your mother taught it to Ambrose?”
Sasha nodded. “That’s what he told me, anyway. She made him repeat it over and over again until he had it memorized, and then asked for his blood vow that he would teach it to me.” The memory pinched with the sense that, in turning away from Ambrose, she’d failed the mother she’d never known. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by protecting herself from him. How was she supposed to know he’d been telling the truth?
“What else did he say about your mother?” Strike pressed.
“Nothing, really. He always called her ‘Lady.’ ” A shiver collected within Sasha as she wondered whether the endearment had actually been something more. Like a title.“You guys don’t have a . . . a nobility, I guess you’d call it?” The question felt like a huge leap. It was her first overt acknowledgment that her mother, too, might have come from Skywatch. Even that she herself might’ve been here as a baby. She’d been born two years before the massacre. It was possible.
“Only the queen, really,” Jox said, “and her kids are accounted for.” The royal winikin frowned.
“We’ve been over and over the records, trying to figure out who Ambrose might have been. But back then, the Nightkeepers were pretty scattered. The royals, advisers, instructors, and other key magi lived here year-round, along with the students, but most of the others had homes off-site. Everybody gathered here on the cardinal days, but there might’ve been a thousand or more people total. So none of us necessarily knew everyone by sight. And what records we kept were badly damaged during the massacre.”
She let out a long breath, disappointment quashing the quick stir of a hope she’d barely even acknowledged. “So we might never know who I am. Assuming I’m someone.”
“You’re someone,” Michael said in a tone that brooked no argument. “That’s not in question. What we need to figure out is what the prophecy means.” He paused, then said reflectively, “We have a few key phrases to work with. First, we’ve got ‘daughter of the sky,’ but the sky means the gods, and all humans are the children of the gods, right? So that probably means there’s a closer connection.” He eyed Sasha, then glanced at Jox. “Were any of the gods supposed to have children on earth?”
“Not as such,” he said.
Wanting to derail that hypothesis as quickly as possible, and preferring to avoid any discussion of how she might “defy love,” especially in the aftermath of the oddest dumping she’d ever experienced, Sasha said quickly, “Ambrose thought the part about conquering death meant I was to be a healer. He tried to steer me toward med school.” Understatement of the year. “He didn’t know who the lost son might be.”
Patience made a low sound of distress. “What if it’s one of the twins?”
“I’ll get a message to Woody and Hannah, telling them to watch their backs,” Strike said, referring to the winikin who had taken Patience and Brandt’s twin boys into hiding, for their own protection during such unsettled times. “But if I had to guess, I’d say the prophecy probably relates to someone old enough to make a difference when the zero date comes. Snake Mendez is a possibility—he’s the last of the magi, and he’d qualify in the ‘lost’ category, at least in terms of his soul.”
Michael leaned in and said in a low voice, “Mendez is the last of the known Nightkeepers. He’s doing an extra six months for aggravated assault, which is a bonus. That way we know where he is, without actually having to figure out what the hell to do with him.”
Jox said slowly, “We thought Mendez was the last of the magi, until we found out about Sasha. If she survived outside the formal system, maybe there’s a chance others did, as well.”
There was a moment of wistful silence before Strike said, “I don’t think we can put too much hope in that. There’s nobody else out there like Ambrose, at least that we’re aware of.”
Leah nodded. “I think we should focus on the things we can control.” She looked at Sasha and said, “I know you’ve been over this a thousand times, but I’m sorry, I have to ask: Do you have any idea where to look for the scroll your father mentioned in his journal?”