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A small meow came out from the hallway. I walked toward the sound. The cat immediately purred and wrapped himself around my ankles. I picked him up. Holding Raina’s beloved cat gave me a small dose of comfort. I rubbed his ears and chin, and he purred me a nice quiet song in return. I placed him on the floor, and he trotted toward the door to go out. I opened it and was sort of sad to see him go so quickly. I’d hoped he would sit around and commiserate with me, but I supposed cats were not the best at sharing misery.

I walked to the small kitchen, the room that held the most memories. I closed my eyes and conjured Raina, cheeks red from steam and stray hairs hanging on her forehead as she carried a cup of tea to the table. Tea. That sounded like just the thing.

I put the kettle on and used the flint to start the fire. I opened her tin of dried herbs and lifted out a scoop of fragrant pieces. It was an aroma that would be imprinted on my brain as uniquely Raina. I poured the scoop into the cloth strainer she’d fashioned around a small wooden hoop. It reminded me of a butterfly-catching net Mom once bought me for my birthday.

The water boiled quickly on the open flames. Raina loved to make tea and food for friends and loved ones. This town would miss her dearly. I stood in her tiny kitchen, in the same place her soft leather shoes stood thousands of times, and slowly poured the hot water through the strainer. The chunks of dried herbs bounced around, soaked up the water and then released the newly flavored liquid below. Raina had taught me slow and easy for the best tea. I finished pouring the water. Aromatic steam circled my face. The wet herbs remained behind in the cloth. I stared down at them, and something suddenly occurred to me. An idea took hold and then a plan, and some of the melancholy I was feeling lifted.

“I’m coming for you. You’re finished.”

Thirty-Three

Adrenaline kept me from sleeping. I’d planned for a quiet, weepy evening of mourning but instead became obsessed with my plan for revenge. I was too excited and fraught with nervous tension to eat any breakfast. I was shocked that most of my strength and mental clarity had returned after my ordeal. “Sassa is a great healer.” I’d heard those words from Raina and Austri on more than one occasion. It was not an exaggeration.

The sky was a hazy blue, a nice reprieve from the shadowy skies above Mom’s cottage. My heart ached thinking about how much she had always loved the sun. We’d sit in the backyard on sunny days and drink lemonade and play games.

I set out toward Revel’s farm. Behind me, a familiar voice called my name. “Rafi!” Lyric shouted. She ran to catch up to me. She’d turned in her breeches for a light green dress, but the black boots were still the same. Her braids had been clipped into one thick tail at the back of her head, and she’d left behind her headband.

She hugged me a long time. “We were so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry to have put all of you through that. Especially at such a terrible time.” My voice wavered just talking about that fateful day when the sea rushed in and brought those monsters with it. “I’m walking over to Revel’s house.”

Lyric fell back. “I suppose you want to be alone, then.”

I looked back and reached for her hand. “Nonsense. I’ve got a plan, and I need you for backup because he’ll probably think I’m crazy.”

“Yay, I love a good crazy plan.” We hurried along the path. Neighbors waved solemnly or covered their hearts with their hands to extend their condolences. I nodded politely back to each of them.

Revel wasn’t out in his yard when we reached his house. Smoke streamed up from his stout stone chimney, so we walked up to the door. I thought about the last time I’d entered the house and immediately felt a rush of heat through my entire body. The man had both a mental and physical hold over me. How was it that I felt nothing for my fated mates, but every inch of me reacted to the mere thought of Revel Greyhart? I supposed it had something to do with the man himself. He was no ordinary man, and while the two princes may have held titles, they were inferior in every way to Revel.

Revel came to the door in an open shirt and breeches. “Didn’t expect visitors. I would have cleaned the place and baked cookies,” he quipped, but he did pick up a dirty coat and muddy work boots on his way back into the house.

“Actually, we need to go out to your shed, where the fishing nets are piled,” I said.

Both Revel and Lyric looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown horns.

“Are we going fishing?” Lyric asked.

I shrugged. “In a way. Just take me to see the nets, and I thought I saw some big pulleys and ropes out there, too.”

“This keeps getting more interesting.” Lyric rubbed her hands together. Revel was less enthusiastic about whatever was happening.

The three of us headed to the wooden shed where the old fishing nets were piled, covered with moss and cobwebs from years of disuse. They were in worse shape than I’d hoped.

“First of all, we need the net with the smallest mesh.” I held up my fingers and made a small circle. “Like this size.”

Revel smiled and shook his head. “Right. That size.” He picked a few folded nets off the top. Small rodents that looked like mice but sounded like birds came scurrying out and ran off to find cover. The musty, old fishy smell that came off the nets caused both Lyric and me to cover our noses. After several layers were removed, Revel finally pulled free one that looked just right.

I took one end and waved for him to walk the other way so I could see the length. It was at least twenty feet long. “How wide is the gulley running through town?”

Revel’s brow arched. “What are you up to?”

“There’s a whole reason for this. Trust me.”

“It’s probably ten lengths,” Revel answered. I should have known he’d answer in Norvale measurement, something I hadn’t figured out yet.

“Let me reframe the question. Do you think this net would fit side to side if it were stretched out tightly?”

Lyric was still puzzled, but Revel seemed to be figuring out at least this part of my plan.