That was what I’d been thinking, too, until my recent experience in the White Mansion with the concubine and king, when I’d realized she was the woman from my dreams, coupled with my latest dream, where watching her die felt like I had perished. Now I was troubled by an entirely different possibility.

Regardless, when I’d attempted to write down my Cold Place dream, it had come out looking a lot like this prophecy: vague, dreamy, and confusing as hell.

“Besides, we think we have it sorted out,” Jo said. “The word ‘Keltar’ means magic mantle. The clan of the Keltar, or MacKeltar, served as Druids to the Tuatha Dé Danann thousands of years ago, when the Fae still lived among us. When the Compact was negotiated and the Fae retired from our world, they left the Keltar in charge of honoring the Compact and protecting the old lore.”

“And we’ve learned there are five male Druids living,” said Mary.

“Dageus, Drustan, Cian, Christian, and Christopher,” Jo said. “We’ve already dispatched a message to them, asking them to join us here.”

Unfortunately, Christian was going to be a problem.

“You said you knew where the four stones are,” Kat said.

I nodded.

“So all we need is you to tell us where the Book is, one of the Keltar to pick it up and bring it here, the four stones laid around it, and the five of them to re-inter it with whatever binding song or chant they know. It sounds like one of them will know whatever needs to be done at the end. I spoke to one of their wives, and she seemed to understand what was meant by ‘the inhabited or possessed.’ ”

“Re-inter it where?” I demanded, watching Rowena closely. It looked as if my only role in the entire matter was to track it. This entire time I’d been feeling as if I had to do it all, but my part in the prophecy was really very small. There was nothing in the prophecy about me that was bad. Just that Alina might die and I would long for death—been there, done that. I felt a huge weight slip from my shoulders. There were five other people responsible for the bulk of it. It was all I could do not to punch the air with a fist and shout, Yes!

“Where it was before,” she said coolly.

“And where’s that?”

“Down the corridor Dani said you couldn’t pass,” Jo said.

The Grand Mistress shot her a quelling look.

“Can you get past the woman who guards it?” I asked Rowena.

“Don’t fash yourself with my business, girl. I’ll do my part. You do yours.”

“V’lane couldn’t get past it, either,” I fished, wondering why.

“No Fae can.” Smugness dripped from her words, and I knew she’d had something to do with that.

“Who is the woman that guards the hall?”

Jo answered, “The last known leader of the Haven.”

Rowena’s current Haven was cloaked in secrecy. “You mean my mother?”

“Isla was not your mother! She had only one child,” Rowena snapped.

“Then who am I?”

“Precisely.” She managed to try, convict, and execute me with the single word.

“The prophecy said there were two of us. One dies young, the other longs for death.” Had she and I been alone, I wasn’t sure how far I would have gone to force answers from her, but I knew this much: I wouldn’t have liked myself when it was over.

“Like as not, a washerwoman ate a bad bit of fish, had dreams on an uneasy stomach, and declared herself a prophet. The word is bloodlines. Plural.”

“Her spelling was appalling. There are extra letters in many words,” Jo said.

“You’ll need to neutralize those particular wards,” I said coolly.

“There will be no Fae present when we seal the abomination away!”

“V’lane won’t give me the stone,” I told her. “There’s no way he’ll just hand it over.”

“Spread your legs for another Fae and whore it out of him,” she said flatly. “Then you will turn them all over to us. There is no need for you to be present when the ritual is performed.”

My cheeks pinked, and it infuriated me. This old woman got under my skin like nobody else could. I wondered if my mother—Isla, I corrected hastily—had felt the same. I’d been so elated to discover the identity of my biological mother, and now, with everyone telling me she’d had only one child, I felt as if not only my mother had been stolen away from me but maybe even my sister as well. I’d never felt so alone in all my life.

“Feck you, old woman,” I said.

“Don’t waste it on me,” she retorted. “I’m not the one with the stone.”

“What was it you said to me once? Wait—I remember.” I used Voice at the full extent of my power when I said, “Haud yer whist, Rowena.”

“Mac,” Kat warned.

“She’s allowed to call me names but I can’t tell her to shut up?”

“Sure, and you can, on equal ground, without compulsion. You rely on such powers in times of no need, you run the risk of losing what makes you human. You’ve a hot temper and a hotter heart. You need to cool them both.”

“You may speak, Rowena.” Voice had never sounded so pissy when Barrons used it.

“Your loyalty must be first to us, the sidhe-seers,” she said instantly.

“Do you want the walls back up, Rowena?” I demanded.

“Och, and of course I do!”

“Then the Seelie will have to be involved. Once the Book is re-interred, the queen will need to come search it for the Song of Making—”

“The Song of Making is in the Sinsar Dubh?” she exclaimed.

“The queen believes fragments of it are, and from them she can re-create the entire Song.”

“And so certain you are you wish that to happen?”

“You don’t want the Unseelie locked away again?”

“Aye, I do. But they’ve been without the Song of Making since long before we encountered them. If the Fae regain that ancient melody, their power will once again be limitless. Have you any idea what those times might have been like? Are you so certain the human race would survive it?”

I blinked at her in startled silence. I’d been so focused on getting the Unseelie reimprisoned and sending the Seelie back to their court that I’d not deeply examined the possible repercussions of restoring the Song of Making to the Fae. It must have shown on my face, because Rowena’s tone softened when she said, “Och, so you’re not a complete fool.”