Page 94 of Wateredge

“There is a ring. Elizabeth Crowhart, the first of her name, had a ring; she had it forged after Ophelia Fowler died as a symbol. As a memory. The ring has been popping in and out of private collections, and I have a lead on it. A friend of mine from New York found it twice now, despite getting outbid, and I’m not letting it go.”

“Is it that friend of yours who is also a forger?” Deryn smirked. Rhiannon nodded.

“And what does that mean?” Ceridwen insisted.

“It means the moment I have the ring, I shall be proposing. So technically, Seren here is only beating me due to the difficulties of the purchase and the logistics surrounding the ring.” Rhiannon pouted theatrically and then threw her head back and laughed. “Who cares? I am so happy for you, Rennie!”

She hugged the still entwined Seren and Deryn, and Ceridwen joined in.

Seren felt the familiar current of magic flow through them; safe, reliable. She sighed, holding closer, allowing herself to be propped up for just a moment.

Then she let go and walked toward the windows overlooking the lagoon.

“So what do we do now? Just move on? I brought down the ocean and suddenly… what?”

Rhiannon stepped up to her, but instead of hugging her, laid her fingertips on the glass, intricate frost designs spreading outward from her touch.

“Nothing to be done but live on, second baby sister of mine. Dagmar and my future father-in-law will be investigated by law enforcement. Paloma will see to that. Ceridwen will figure out if they were connected to the good-for-nothing councilmen who resigned recently to make sure we corral them all. The town will get a new sheriff, an elected one this time. Magnus will either live inside his rotten brain for all eternity or be kicked off the machines, depending on what his family decides.”

“Yeah, about that…” Deryn came to stand near Rhiannon. “Isn’t Lark technically his wife? Will she be the one making those medical decisions?”

Seren shuddered.

“He had the medical power of attorney assigned to one of his brothers years ago. Lark is spared this mess, at least. And my understanding is that Dagmar will be the one deciding anyway.”

Ceridwen crossed her arms over her chest.

“Do we care?”

Seren turned to look at her sister, eyes still shadowed and exhausted.

“No, we don’t. We’re free of them.”

Ceridwen nodded, but her shoulders remained tense.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be free of them. And I don’t mean the Rathcrosses specifically, even if it does seem that Dagmar, in her effort to preserve the sainted family name, is indeed closing down shop on Dragons and pulling the plug on her wretched Museum of Faith forever. But won’t there be another Dagmar? And we still don’t know who set the Crow & Cat on fire. Who broke into our homes and businesses?”

Rhiannon removed her hand from the glass, and the frost dissipated.

“We will find out. We will figure it all out. It started with me, and we’re only three-fourths of the way in.” She winked and looked at her sisters, at the rings in the tiny box in Seren’s hand. At Deryn’s easy smile and Paloma’s jacket on her shoulders. “And we will get Victoria back. She still has quite a lot of explaining to do.”

Seren put the box carefully in her pocket

“She does, but she also had quite a lot of things figured out for us. The rings, the bets, the conversations and advice she gave us months in advance, preparing me, preparing Lark. Don’t even get me started on the things she must’ve told you three, because I don’t believe for a second she reserved her wisdom and her premonitions for me alone.”

Rhiannon smirked.

“Oh no, she has this adorable or maddening, depending on how you look at it, habit of dropping by my place at the most inconvenient of hours just to reminisce. Or to share something, like a recipe, despite knowing full well I do not touch the stove unless I absolutely have to. And under the guise of said recipe, there Victoria is, talking about Mom. Or Grandmother. And only months later will I recognize these talks as foretelling, or spells, or truths I was too busy, too sleepy, or too stubborn to see. And I know she did even more of that with Ceridwen.”

Ceridwen’s smile was fond. Seren felt it in the center of her chest, a sweet pain, blooming outward. Of course, Victoria’s sessions with Ceridwen would have been longer. Deeper. They were all waiting for the last quarter of the story to unfold. For fate to deal its last cards. For them all to pick the game up and go to war for their sister.

When she spoke, Ceridwen sounded pensive and a little sad, something Seren kept finding in her tone more often these days. The sweet pain spread further and further in her chest.

“She tried to get us all ready for what was to come. I don’t think I’m mistaken when I say that she felt very strongly that she wouldn’t survive the Water.”

Seren dropped her chin. She still had to confront the events of that night on the beach. What had been asked of her. What she had done. What happened in the end.

“There was no other way, Rennie. She knew it. We all knew it. The circle knew it.” Deryn squeezed her again.