She looks amused. “The good news is, the way to the Book is through the palace. You can use the power of the crystal to open the doorway.”
“And the bad?” I’m not going to like this.
Aithinne forges ahead. “You’ll have to find some way to abduct Sorcha. Only her lineage can find the portal that leads to the Book.”
“Aithinne.” I say her name very, very carefully. “You’re saying I’m supposed to enlist—against her will—the faery who killed me to help me find this Book?”
“Well, yes. The Morrigan’s consort was a relation of Sorcha and Lonnrach’s. The wisp was very clear that her blood was the key to the prison. You’ll need her—alive, regrettably.”
I curse. Loudly. Of course it would be their relative. Of course. Terrible things. Always. Happen. To me.
“Even if Kiaran agrees to this plan, I’ll never convince Sorcha to help.”
“You don’t need to convince her. Chain her up. Drag her along.” Aithinne shrugs. “If she starts getting irritating, punch her in the face. When the time comes, use your power to send word to me and I’ll help you with her. I’m quite anxious to smash my fist into her nose.”
“You and me both,” I mutter.
Sorcha and Lonnrach have both destroyed me in different ways. Sorcha murdered my mother and, eventually, murdered me. I used to have nightmares about her. I used to track her kills. She was the reason I gave up everything to become what I am.
But Lonnrach . . . he almost did what she couldn’t: He tried to break my very soul—and he nearly succeeded. The marks of his teeth might no longer be on my skin, but their effects haven’t waned.
I only spent two months imprisoned by him in the fae realm, the equivalent of three years in the human world. But each day had stretched so vast that I had no concept of time. He broke into my mind for information to use against me, an extraction that required my blood. He’d pierce my skin with his teeth, day after day, over and over again. His bites left hundreds of scars down my arms and across my throat. Indentations that contained precious memories.
Over time, those memories faded in my mind, like old etchings that had been sanded away. To bring them up again, I had to scrape my fingernails over the scars, digging them in just to bring up the memories of who I was. They were all I had left.
I shut my eyes briefly. I have to do this for Kiaran and Aithinne. For Catherine and Gavin and those people in Aithinne’s cottage who didn’t choose their fate. I have to do whatever it takes to find the Book and give them their lives back. I won’t fail them again.
“I hate this,” I mutter.
“Really? I’m having a grand time,” Aithinne says brightly.
“That’s because you’re barmy.”
“I believe you just mispronounced magnificent.”
She leads me back to the edge of the cliff. This time when I peer down at Kiaran’s castle, the soldiers are still in formation. As if they’re waiting for instruction. We have to act now.
“You don’t intend to open the portal halfway down, do you?”
Aithinne looks like she’s considering it. At my outraged expression, she winks. “I’ll do it here.” She gestures to the soldiers. “Be ready. As soon as they sense power, they’re going to attack. Make sure you don’t lose control and almost murder my brother like you nearly did me.” She smiles. “Easy.”
Right. Just battle four dozen soldiers to get the attention of my lover, who may or may not be evil depending on what mood he’s in.
“You know,” I say lightly, “I think we need to rethink your use of easy. Just a suggestion.”
“I have taken your suggestion under consideration and decided to ignore it.” She steps back with a smile. “Ready?”
I recall another portal Aithinne opened for me to cross between islands. “You’re not going to have me nearly crushed by tree branches again, are you?”
“No, no. Crushed by water.”
With that, she lifts a hand as if she’s beckoning something. Water rises from the sea, up and up toward the sky, until it’s flowing with the force of a waterfall. The stream wraps around me, the water rushing past like a river suspended in air. It encloses me, mist spraying my clothes, my skin.
Just before it closes entirely, Aithinne says, “Good luck. I’ll await your word.”
Then I’m surrounded by water. The current is so deafening that any sound beyond it is muffled. I grip my sword tightly, ready to engage. My body is in fighting stance.
Then, suddenly, the water clears. Aithinne has dropped me right in the middle of the soldiers, no doubt on purpose. A hush goes through them. They all tense.
My power gives a mocking tap on their shoulders. Right here.
They attack as one. God, they’re fast. Faster than the fae in the forest. These must be Kiaran’s better soldiers, because they move like I do. Like they’ve been trained for this—trained for me.
The Cailleach’s powers urge me to use them. All I have to do is let go and I could destroy these soldiers in a minute—a few seconds, if I wanted to show off. It would be so easy. All I’d have to do is—
Use your powers sparingly.
Aithinne’s no-nonsense instruction brings me back from the brink.
Stay focused, Aileana. Don’t give in. Don’t die yet.
I might be slower without it, but I’ve never needed the powers of the Cailleach to win my battles in the past. I have to relearn how to use my body with its human limitations.
Every movement is a discovery. It’s my limbs on fire as I block and lunge and swipe. It’s the breath in my lungs bursting with exhilaration. It’s my fist slamming across a faery’s face so hard that my knuckles bleed. It’s remembering what I can do with a sword and how graceful I am. And it’s showing off for Kiaran. Remember this? Remember us? You once said I was exquisite in battle. Let me show you. Let me remind you.
My sword sings. I battle as if I’m in a dance, tempting him, beckoning him. For Kiaran—for us—this is how we seduce. And I can feel him watching.
This is me. Entering a room. About to ask you annoying questions.
When it’s all over, I stare up at the castle, my breath coming fast. Now let me in, you stubborn arse.
The doors to the castle open with an echo that can probably be heard across the sea.
I smile. Got you, Kiaran MacKay.
CHAPTER 16
IF THE castle had appeared nightmarish from the lookout point on the cliffs, it’s even more desolate up close. My boots crunch through the dry, cracked soil as I enter the gates. They tower on either side of me, massive doors carved out of black rock that lead to the dark interior.
A frigid breeze ruffles my hair and I resist the urge to shiver. This place is unsettling. Not a single thing is recognizable as being formed from the remains of Derrick’s home, a pixie city that was bursting with life. This castle was erected right over the rubble.