She said, “Jim’s moving out of the cottage soon, and you can stay there. I already said so, do you remember?”

Madeleine’s voice was muffled. “I remember.”

“You returned to me.” Hæra swallowed hard. “Now stay with me. At least a little longer.”

A shiver ran through Madeleine’s body, more pronounced than the tremble.

Hæra mustn’t panic. Not even if the moment—if Madeleine—felt like sand falling through her fingers, something that couldn’t be held or made to stay.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” she said, with some difficulty. How awful it would be not to have Madeleine’s answer immediately. But it’d be much worse to get a negative one when, if she waited, that might change.

Maybe she was learning to think ahead. Jonathan would be pleased.

Madeleine finally raised her head. She turned her face to the cloudy sky, her expression unreadable. “I might leave, I might not,” she said. That was better than I’ll definitely leave, at least. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Madeleine’s gaze was sharp. “I understand why you stayed here. But did you never at least dream of leaving? Seeing the rest of the world instead of this one, tiny island near the family that tried to kill you?”

Put like that, it sounded only logical. “I don’t dream. But you’re speaking in metaphors—yes?” When Madeleine smiled a little and nodded, Hæra continued, “My kind remains around the islands of the North Sea. And I can’t leave the ocean no matter what form I wear. My strength deserts me the farther I get from it. I couldn’t survive inland.”

For the first time, Madeleine’s expression softened. “Forced to be here…as you said. That’s unfair. I’m sorry.”

If Madeleine had seemed sorry for Hæra, that would have been infuriating. Madeleine seemed sorry about something else, and it brought compassion to her eyes. That alone gave Hæra the courage to say, “But you can choose. When you’re ready.”

At the word ready, Madeleine’s eyes hardened again. She didn’t look angry, though—at least not at Hæra. Instead, she turned that sharp, resolved look up to the cloudy sky. And Hæra knew Madeleine wasn’t going to wait to make her decision.

She held her breath.

When you’re ready, Hæra had said, as if Madeleine could ever be.

Foolishly, when setting out for Orkney, she’d vowed to be ready for anything. In hindsight, she’d only prepared herself for a limited set of options. She would meet her angel, or not; she would find answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask, or not.