Bryant stayed for the Pyre of his mother, although he felt no remorse or sorrow as the flames began to lick her hair and clothes. He stood next to Kaye without touching her and whispered, “Your fate will be the same if you stay. The High Priestess is always sacrificed to the tribes.”

“I know that,” Kaye said as a tear fell down her cheek for the woman who was much more her mother than his own. The fire popped as the logs shifted, and Kaye Conal’s body sank into the pyre and was swallowed by flame. People began drifting away, back to their homes and responsibilities.

“I’m leaving,” Bryant said without looking at Kaye.

“I’ll meet you in the tent then.”

“No, Kaye. I’m leaving with the others. I’m going home.”

Kaye sighed as she stared at the pyre, and next to it Petoskey's, which was smoldering ash now. “There is no priestess,” she said, voice low so only he could hear above the crackle and hiss of the flames. “There is no chief. Monk is next in line, but he needs help. They all turn to me. Maybe once things have returned to normal, I could follow you, but not now. Not when they need me so much.”

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“You chose Fie Eoin over me.” His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

“And you chose the Faye over me.”

The hurt in her eyes was more than he could bear. He knew he had no reason to return, except fear that he wouldn’t be welcome in Fie Eoin. Still, he couldn’t make himself live here. Not even for her.

So he didn’t reply—his voice wouldn’t have let him even if he could think of a reply. He wasn’t choosing the Faye over her; he was choosing them over Fie Eoin.

Bryant stared at her for a long time. At her Faye features which would blend into his tribe so well, and her wings that seemed to disappear into the shimmery fabric of the priestess dress she wore. Her hand was moving at her wrist, tracing the symbols he had carved into her bracelet, and then it was off and she was holding it out to him.

“Remember,” she said, and her words caught on her tears, “it was you who walked away this time.” She pressed the bracelet into his hand and stared at the pyre.

He looked at the bracelet, at the symbol of the High Priestess that he had carved in the center, and he could not blame her. Bryant walked away before he could change his mind.