“I have a responsibility to my siblings, but I shouldn’t have done what I did. For that, I apologize.” Caolan bows. He won’t acknowledge her words.

“I understand what you did.” Croi doesn’t need him to.

But understanding doesn’t mean forgiveness.

“But I won’t forgive you. I will never forgive you. If you really are sorry for what you did, please never let me see you again.”

No rancor makes barbs of her words. Croi knows that she cannot compare to his siblings. Perhaps it would hurt less if she had a family of her own. But she doesn’t. Her words are a weary plea that is, perhaps, more cutting than her anger would be. Croi doesn’t turn around to watch the catkin stumble away.

Hours pass.

Embers rule where fires burnt, and the only conversations that can be heard around the clearing are those of crickets riding the moon to midnight. The kidnapped kin willingly slip into sleep, though there are some who lie still with their eyes wide open; they’re the ones stalked by nightmares. Rebel soldiers are strategically placed around the clearing, though whether they are keeping danger out or everyone in is not something Croi wants to think about.

Tinder returns with eyes full of questions, but she has learned by now not to ask them. Whatever the princess said in response to Croi’s questions doesn’t seem to have appeased her. Her magick is still carrying flashes of anxious blue. “Ceara didn’t have any answers to your questions, and she told me not to listen to you because you are clearly on the enemy’s side.” The pixie sits on the ground in front of Croi and sighs glumly. “But I feel like your questions poke holes in the story everyone insists is the truth. I feel like I’ve been complacent and naive, accepting everything that has been fed to me without asking questions or thinking for myself.”

Croi doesn’t say anything. Neither does her other self.

“On a completely different note, if you want, we can travel with the Tine envoy to the Talamh Caisleán. Ceara is accompanying her father and his entourage there for the Saol ceremony.” Tinder preempts Croi’s opposition. “Listen to me before you object. It will take us three days, four at the maximum, if we travel with them. It will take a lot longer if we go by ourselves. Do you have that much time? Even if you do, consider this. Many Redcaps wander the forest, and other horrors, the kinds which you haven’t ever seen before, thicken the nights in this world. How many of them will we kill? How many can we kill?”

Why would the Fire Princess allow us to travel with her when she thinks we stand against what she’s fighting for?

It’s a good question, so Croi asks the pixie. Tinder seems contemplative. “I think she thinks she can persuade you to join the rebel army. Whatever her purpose is, I guarantee that she won’t harm you.”