Then, in the deep lingering thoughts from this memory, I hear one so clearly: I don’t make a vow unless I mean the words.
I almost pull out of her mind with a surprised curse. Sorcha never told Lonnrach about the vow she made to Kiaran, the one that entwined their lives. Kiaran once said it was a vow the fae made to their consorts, but perhaps it was only observed in the Unseelie Kingdom.
I assumed she made her vow for the reasons Kiaran had, out of obligation or tradition. But she hadn’t—she had meant it with every piece of her soul.
Sorcha loved Kiaran. She loved him once the way I love him. It radiates in her memory, pure and untainted.
No wonder she looked at Kiaran and me the way she did; it hurt for her to see us like that. No wonder Sorcha betrayed Lonnrach back during the battle over the crystal.
She chose Kiaran over her own brother. Because she loves him still. I always assumed what she felt for him wasn’t real. I was wrong—maybe this is what thousands of years of unrequited affection and tragedy and war do to love. They destroy it. They turn it into something dark and ugly and corrupted.
“You can’t really mean that,” Lonnrach says.
“I do,” she tells Lonnrach firmly. “But it doesn’t have to be only about me. If we find the Book, we can use it to end the war. Simple.”
“And then what?” Lonnrach’s voice is brittle. “Do you think Aithinne and Kadamach will rule happily, side by side? That the Courts can forget thousands of years of slaughter and live in peace together?”
“It has to start somewhere. Why can’t it start with us?” Her expression is pleading. “Don’t abandon me, Lonnrach. Do this with me and I’ll forgive you for everything.”
I’ll forgive you for everything. What does that mean? Lonnrach gazes up at the branches of the tree and for a moment I think he’ll say yes. I can see his features softening, the first signs of battle-weariness that I saw when I was in the mirrored prison are there, left by centuries of bitter war between their kingdoms.
But then Sorcha whispers, “Help me save them both.”
“No.” Lonnrach steps back. “You don’t want to save them both, you want me to save him. And I won’t help him live. I won’t betray my Queen and my Court, especially not for—” He shuts his mouth.
“For what?” Sorcha’s eyes darken. “A filthy Unseelie? Just like our mother.”
His intake of breath is subtle but noticeable. When he speaks again, it’s through his teeth. “This is the way it is, Sorcha. We can’t change it.”
“You don’t want to change it,” she hisses. “I should have known that when you turned your back on me the first time. You’ll regret this.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ll make you regret this.”
“Sorcha—”
“Dutiful knight,” she mocks. “Enslaved to his beloved Queen. I hope I free her from the curse and save her life, just to watch Kadamach rip out her heart anyway.” Her pointed teeth flash in the nightmarish smile I know all too well. “And when he does, I’ll beg him to spare you. So that you’ll know, for the rest of your pathetic eternity, that it was your misguided sense of duty that got her killed.”
“If you weren’t my sister,” Lonnrach growls, “I’d kill you for that.”
Sorcha flashes her teeth in a snarl. “And if you weren’t my brother, I would have killed you after you showed me how to find the door.” She steps closer. “No, a long time ago. I should have hunted you down and killed you when I earned my freedom.”
Earned my freedom. Something must have happened in their past. Something awful. Something irreconcilable. She wasn’t free?
Lonnrach’s flinch is so quick, I barely catch it. “You’re going to die in there,” he tells her flatly.
“Better to die in there than be like you.” She pulls out her blade, but keeps it by her side. “You’re a sniveling, mindless coward. This time, I won’t forget it.” Then she slices the skin of her palm and slams her hand against the tree trunk.
Before I can see what happens next, Sorcha surprises me by pulling back and slamming into my mind. The force is so strong that I cry out and stagger back, wrenched out of Sorcha’s thoughts.
When I open my eyes, I’m on my knees in the dirt road.
CHAPTER 22
I TOUCH THE wetness leaking from my nose to my lips. Blood. Aithinne’s chastising voice rises in my mind. You’ll have to be more careful when you search for the Book. Use your powers sparingly.
“Kam? Are you all right?”
Kiaran kneels next to me and I swipe my sleeve across my nose before he can see. “Fine,” I say, waving him off to stand on my own. I don’t want Sorcha to see him help me up.
She went in search of the Book to save him.
“Nighean na galla,” she snaps, spitting on the ground. “I hope that hurt. I’ll never forget the feel of your disgusting little human mind—”
“Oh, you didn’t like that?” I cross my arms. “A terrible thing, isn’t it? Having someone else in your head, manipulating your thoughts.”
Sorcha snarls. “Whatever borrowed powers you’re using don’t make you fae, little girl. Let me out of these chains and I’ll feed you your insides before I kill you—”
My powers cut her off, and her sentence dies in a garbled choke. Aithinne’s warning doesn’t stand a chance against the rising tide of darkness inside me, demanding to be released. Demanding bloodshed. Demanding battle.
Just a little bit of pain.
I twist my fingers to cut off her air. My power slides down my veins, ready to kill.
Just a little bit more—
Kiaran grips my shoulder. “Stop.”
I shake him off. “I’ll never forget her sword.” My hand fists and blood pours out of Sorcha’s mouth. “It felt like this.”
“Kam.” Kiaran turns me to face him. His hands are on either side of my face, his voice gentle. “Look at me. Look at me.” He speaks through the darkness to something human in me.
“She went to find the Book, MacKay. She knows where the door is.” I can’t help the power in my voice, the low, dangerous pitch that doesn’t sound like me anymore. That barely sounds human. “I can make her help me.”
I can make her do anything. I could make her dance until her feet bled. Whatever I want.
“Not if she’s dead.”
My lip curls. “I know that.”
“Do you? Because you’re killing her,” he tells me, voice hoarse. “I can feel it.”
Shock courses through me, just enough clarity to force my powers back down. To lock them up in the tight space of my chest and keep them from spilling out again.
Sorcha immediately gulps in air, her chest heaving with the effort.
It hurts so damn much to hold all that power. I feel like I’m dying. I am dying. But Kiaran is studying me too closely, so I shutter away the pain. I ignore the ache. After his willingness to kill people to help save me, I can’t tell him that every time I use my powers, I die faster. I can’t risk what he might do.
Don’t let him see.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him, shaking my head. “I can’t—I’m sorry.”