Croi feels a watery compassion for Ceara; if she really is not the princess, then her life has been as much a lie as Croi’s has been. Croi sighs loudly, and the pixie mutters a string of curses in her sleep. In revenge, Croi pokes her cheeks and giggles at the pixie’s attempts to swat her away.

I had thought the Tine King would ask to speak to us. Surely, he was able to see the similarities in our magicks.

Croi shrugs, not wanting to think about Aodh. She will not covet things or people that don’t belong to her. Instead, she thinks about the menu for breakfast before drifting off to sleep.

Morning arrives too quickly, and Croi gets happily acquainted with a type of bread made of nuts and gold raisins and a hot drink made of bitter chocolate and sugar that serves as breakfast. Soon the camp is broken up and they’re riding hard and fast on a path toward the Caisleán.

Croi and Tinder ride with Ceara on her beastie, flanked on either side by Tine soldiers. Croi looks at the increasing lassitude in the magick as they get closer to Talamh Caisleán and pats her pack. Why haven’t more people noticed the state of the magick? Does no one suspect that the Talamh HeartStone is missing?

“What is a HeartStone made of?” Croi asks out loud. If the dryad is not able to find it in time, would she be able to replace it with another one? Would that be possible?

Ceara answers the question. “Fionar and her companions crystallized the purest form of whole magick, refined it into elements, and then broke the sphere according to the saturations of the elemental magicks in the sphere. The HeartStone of Talamh contains the purest form of earth magick, the HeartStone of Tine contains the purest form of fire magick, and so forth.”

A HeartStone is not something one can simply replace or re-create. Croi can feel her other self rolling her eyes at her. Well, if she had eyes, she’d be rolling them.

“So the monarchs of each kingdom get to hold the HeartStone of the kingdom?” Croi tries to see the Tine King, who is riding at the head of the procession.

Tinder, sitting on Ceara’s shoulder while facing Croi, nods her head. “Remember, I told you before. To be the monarch, you need to have the strength to hold the HeartStone. Only a few among the fae have this strength. Other kin can’t hold the HeartStone at all.”

“I remember. So magickal strength is of utmost importance in a monarch?” Croi asks.

“Yep,” Tinder says. “The Saol ceremony requires the monarch of an elemental kingdom to infuse the HeartStone with a percentage of their magicks. If the monarch is unable to do so, the Saol ceremony will be unsuccessful.”

“Oh…” Croi takes a breath. “What happens if a HeartStone is lost?”

Both Ceara and Tinder look at Croi.

“I’m just asking!”

“Don’t ask. The consequences of a missing HeartStone are not something the Otherworld can bear,” Ceara says, her voice grim.