Page 119 of Queen of the Shadow

“Me? It’syourspear.”

“Yes, but you’re my teacher. You guided me here. You figured out what Curruid needed so that the spear was revealed. You’re going to return us to the mortal realm.” He paused and added, “Youaregoing to return us, aren’t you?”

Scáthach met his gaze and all her humor had gone. “Yes. I must.”

“You must?”

“Wemust. For Uathach. For Tabiti. For Dunscáith. For Ulster. For your father. For your destiny.” Scáthach paused then, giving him an opportunity to say they could return to Dunscáith but he didn’t have to return to his destiny because he had decided to change his fate. The sorrow in his eyes was answer enough. “Yes,” she repeated. “We must.” Then she strode across the burnt sand and grasped the spear, pulling it from the earth.

The Queen of Shadow gasped as images flooded her mind. Cuchulainn rushed to her as she staggered under the weight of them.

“Scáthach! What is it?”

“It’s the spear. I know what it does.” She shook her head over and over, sickened by the terrible images the Gáe Bulg had shown her. “It kills. Always. Every time. The spearhead is magick. When it strikes a person, it splinters into thirty barbs that explode inside the body. They cannot be removed. It doesn’t matter where the spear embeds—even if it strikes a foot, a hand, an arm—that person will die.” With a grimace, Scáthach held it out to Cuchulainn. “Take it. I do not want such a thing near me.”

Cuchulainn grasped the spear. He met her gaze. “It showed me nothing.”

She shivered and wiped her hands down her tunic as if to rid them of the spear’s touch. “It showed me enough for both of us. Never forget.”

“I won’t. And I understand why my father allowed me to give up the berserker for the Gáe Bulg. A berserker can be killed. The spear cannot. It makes me undefeatable.” He sighed. “Dishonorably undefeatable as the wielding of it requires no skill.”

“You could leave it here,” said Scáthach. “Somewhere in the realm particularly horrible—like driven into the willow holding the dissolving woman. No one would find it there.” She watched several emotions slide over Cuchulainn’s expressive face, but when he met her eyes again, she saw resignation in his. “But your father wouldn’t like that.”

“Nor would the warriors of Ulster,” he said.

Scáthach wanted to shout,What about you! What do you want?But she was wise enough to remain silent. Sentanta knew he could change his fate. Cuchulainn had chosen not to, and she would respect his choice. Love cannot be caged and Scáthach would not even attempt to do so.

“Well, then, let us return to the mortal realm and those who wait there for us,” said Scáthach.

She sheathed her sword but left her shield and their travel packs and cloaks on the beach before she helped Cuchulainn strap the Gáe Bulg to his back where his shield had been.

“And now we swim,” Scáthach told him.

Cuchulainn’s gaze went to the dark, frigid water. “Are you sure we can’t just retrace our path?”

“Quite sure. Unless Mother is with us, the way we came is not retraceable. There’s only one way out for the living who are unaccompanied by the divine.” She took his hand and walked toward the turbulent water. “Though I think I can make our journey home bearable.”

They reached the water’s edge. Waves washed restlessly over their booted feet. Cuchulainn shuddered as the water lapped around his calves. “It’s so cold!”

“That’s part of what I can make more bearable.” One more time, Scáthach drew her dagger, but before she cut her skin, the Queen of Shadow bent and washed Curruid’s gore from it. She wiped it on her tunic before cutting a shallow line across her forearm, which she held out so that her blood dripped into the Winter Sea.

“Scáthach, daughter of Béfionn, would like to go home now, please,” she told the waves. “And I would like to take the Hero of Ulster with me.”

A tunnel of light blue water appeared just under the surface of the dark Winter Sea. It glowed brilliant turquoise, and within it sturgeons swam happily toward them.

“Your nursemaids,” Cuchulainn said, smiling.

“You’re not calling them sea monsters anymore?” she asked.

“Now that I’ve met a real monster of the sea, I know the difference,” he said. “What do we do?”

“Take a deep breath and dive in. The sturgeons will do the rest. We’ll emerge within sight of Dunscáith.”

But instead of diving into the sea, Scáthach and Sentanta turned to each other at the same moment. They came together, lips meeting, arms holding tightly. The kiss was deep and felt never-ending. And then Cuchulainn pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

“Scáthach, I wish—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips. “I know. You don’t have to say it. And I understand. Just kiss me again.”