I flexed my fingers to gather the gentle wisps of wind, then sent a stream toward the mainland. I needed to know what was happening at the hotel—needed to know whether Maran was speaking the truth about the spell and just how many guards they’d left behind.

By the time we reached the far end of the island, my vision was blurring, and the ache in my head was so bad I was beginning to suspect concussion.

There was nothing I could do if it was, of course. Mentioning it would only cause derision, and it wasn’t like they needed me in tip-top condition anyway.

Several feet ahead of us, the narrow path split and moved down either side of the dragon’s “cheeks.” I paused. The wind’s whispers were much stronger up here and the visual information it held far clearer.

My connection had definitely deepened since that whole lightning incident.

“Is there a problem?” Vincentia said, still keeping the distance between us. “Or is this nothing more than an attempt to waste time?”

Oh, I was really going to enjoy tossing her ass into the sea.

“I’m trying to decide which is the safer path.” I cast her a glance. “Feel free to precede me and discover that for yourself.”

“The left path has been used more,” Maran said. “Get on with it or I’ll fucking spell you into obedience.”

I flicked my gaze to hers and said with a certainty that might well have been misplaced, “You can try.”

She raised her eyebrows. “An Aodhán pixie without her knives is not immune to magic.”

“This Aodhán pixie no longer needs the physical presence of the knives to be protected by them.”

Maran’s expression suggested she didn’t for a second believe that statement, but she thankfully didn’t test the truth of it.

I headed down the left path. Though the strength of the wind was increasing with every step down the dragon’s face, I was wary of doing anything until the stream of air I’d cast earlier had returned with her information.

It surely wouldn’t be too much longer. It was wind, after all.

Far below us the waves crashed against black rocks, a loud reminder of the fate that waited if any of us slipped. Sea foam flew high into the air, bright in the shadows, but between one blink and the next, it turned red, stained by the blood that now poured out of the cave sitting just above its reach.

It was a warning. Enter that cave and darkness would find us.

My steps faltered.

“Gods,” Vincentia growled behind me. “What’s the fucking problem now?”

“If we enter that cave, we’ll be attacked.”

Maran snorted. “Who by? The local birdlife?”

“There’s a dark gate inside.”

“Yeah,” Vincentia drawled. “Believing that.”

“The sword calls to darkness,” I growled. “It’s a logical location for a dark gate.”

“If there is, I’ll cast a spell to ward us,” Maran said. “They won’t get past that.”

“They get past Myrkálfar locks,” I growled back. “What makes you think your magic will fare any better?”