I look down at my sword, afraid to ask the next question. “If we don’t?”
Aithinne winces. “If it comes down to him or me, the curse dictates it’s going to be me,” she says. Then, more softly, “But I spent two thousand years being tortured and imprisoned. I’m not ready to die. Not when I feel like I’ve barely lived.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I tell her firmly. “Did your wisp tell you how to find it?”
She hesitates. “You’re not going to like this.”
Before I can ask what she means, Derrick barrels through the door. He comes to a hard stop, the tips of his wings lit red. “The soldiers have crossed the border and they’re coming too fast to send Aileana before they get here.” He looks at me. “Now is a good time for you to unleash those scary powers and kill them all.”
Aithinne is already strapping her sword around her hips. “Is Kadamach with them?”
Derrick’s wings are buzzing, as agitated as a dragonfly’s. “I don’t know. I sure as hell hope not.”
I don’t miss the way Aithinne flickers a glance at me, a fraction of concern there. If Kiaran is out there with his soldiers, that means the war starts here. Right now. I may be the element of surprise, and my being there might be enough for him to call it off, but the moment he sees me with Aithinne—alive and ready for battle—he’ll assume I’ve chosen my side.
“There’s no helping it if he is,” Aithinne says.
“We should get Catherine, Gavin, and Daniel somewhere safe,” I say.
Aithinne slips on her coat and looks at me in amusement. “Where would they go?” she asks me. “If it starts, nowhere is safe from the Wild Hunt.” When I don’t say anything, she grips my shoulder. “The humans are going to take the horses out and draw the soldiers away from the other camps. This is their fight as much as ours.”
This world isn’t your burden. It belongs to all of us.
I know that. I know it. But if they’re forced into combat, they won’t survive. Helplessly, I look at Derrick.
His features soften. “I’ll bring them back here alive. All right?”
I reach out and stroke his wings in thanks.
“Be careful.” “If you leave before I’m back, you be careful.” He sighs before adding, “Don’t get yourself killed trying to save him.”
Gavin meets us outside the cottage. I notice he’s carrying weapons, as if he’s been training for this.
He glances at my sword and his lips quirk up. “Now this sight brings back fond memories. Though I admit, I miss the torn dresses. Trousers just don’t have the same touch of reckless insanity.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust you to flirt with me right before a battle. What happened to Brooding Gavin?”
“Brooding Gavin had a city to protect,” he says. “All I have now is my own arse. Oh, and this whisky.” He pulls open his coat and the bottle is right there in the inside pocket. He’s actually determined to save that shite single malt.
“You’re ridiculous,” I tell him.
Aithinne, however, brightens when she sees it. “Thank god,” she says. “Save a dram for me. I always like a spot of whisky after I murder things.”
God help me. Or kill me now. Just put me out of my misery.
I hear the quick clamor of hooves behind me. It’s Catherine and Daniel, hurrying out of the trees with three fae horses saddled and ready to go. “Stick by me,” Daniel says to Gavin. “Don’t do anything bloody stupid, all right? Not like last time.”
“You know me, old chap,” Gavin says, swinging up onto his horse. Derrick settles on his shoulder with his wings tucked in. “Bloody stupid is only my Plan B.”
Daniel looks over at me, his one eye assessing. “Good to have you back,” is all he says. Then he mounts his horse and Catherine does the same. We all say our goodbyes before the fae horses take off, so fast they blur. I don’t even hear them as they disappear into the dark woods.
Aithinne and I wait and listen.
In the span of minutes, I feel the soldiers moving through the forest. I send out a tentative, searching stroke of power. A few soldiers take off in the direction the humans and Derrick went, but Kiaran isn’t with them. Thank god.
The soldiers must sense me, though, because their power pushes against mine, a warning: We’re coming for you.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aithinne’s grim smile in response. We’re ready.
CHAPTER 14
AS THE soldiers draw closer, their power is hot against my skin, a combined energy that makes the air torrid, heavy.
Unlike the fae I encountered in the woods, they aren’t trying to hide their presence. They’re announcing it with every step. They’re screaming it. It’s the cocky entrance of fae who have no idea what they’re up against. They don’t understand that they’re about to be the first casualties of war. They’re about to be the declaration.
My power unfurls, a darkness at the back of my mind just waiting to be unleashed. Waiting to kill.
Come closer.
When the fae reach the outskirts of the camp, my power roars. It demands. It paces inside its too-small bone cage. When they finally step through the trees, I can barely hold it back.
Wait . . . wait . . .
Aithinne puts a hand on my arm as if she senses my struggle. Her power wraps around mine to hold it in place. There’s a steadiness to her gaze, a patience I hadn’t expected before a battle. Hold.
The fae in the forest surround us, their eyes glowing like beacons in the darkness. My power senses twenty heartbeats. Twenty inhales and exhales, breathing as one.
Twenty stupid, suicidal faeries who won’t live to see the morning.
I step forward, but Aithinne’s grip tightens. “Wait,” she says to me in a low voice. Then louder, so the others can hear: “You’re trespassing in my territory.”
An Unseelie at the front laughs. It’s a low, rough scrape at the back of his throat. “We know.”
“I see.” Aithinne sounds calm. So calm. Almost like she feels sorry for them. “Then you must be aware that Kadamach intends for you to be killed.”
They remain unmoving, impassive. Maybe they haven’t learned how to feel yet. Maybe Kiaran taught them what he learned in the Unseelie Court himself: that emotions are a weakness.
“You’re young,” she says dismissively. “Just made.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” one of them asks.
Aithinne shrugs. “It’s not your fault he sent you to your deaths. He can just make more soldiers. You’re expendable.”
I look sharply at Aithinne. What are you doing?
Her expression says everything. She’s giving them an opportunity to switch sides. To save themselves. They’re taking their place in a war they never started, one that began thousands of years ago.
Aithinne is the kinder monarch. She’s the better monarch. He’s just the stronger one. The one meant to live.
None of the fae answer. Their composure never falters; they’re ready to die if necessary. Kiaran must have trained them well. Apparently he never lost his ruthlessness.