He nods again.
I push the tattered material away to get a better look. Unlike mine, his wound has already begun the early stages of the healing process, which means that even with his powers bound, his healing is much faster. It won’t be instantaneous, but he’s a lucky bastard.
I use one of the scraps to dab at his injury. Kiaran doesn’t make a sound, not even when I wrap the cloth to bind his wound and start on the next one.
“Does it bother you?” I ask. “Knowing you won’t heal as quickly here?”
“No. This is . . .” He goes quiet. “Sometimes it’s easy to take life for granted when you don’t have to worry about dying.”
I turn the words over in my mind, wondering what it would be like to be immortal. That something as small as the sight of your own blood could be a revelation.
“I don’t know,” I say lightly. “I wouldn’t mind going into a battle worrying a bit less about being mortally wounded. Sometimes I wish I were fae.”
“No, you don’t,” he says with a bitter laugh.
I look at him in surprise. “You wouldn’t want me to live forever?” With you?
Kiaran stares into the fire, his expression betraying a hint of unease at the thought.
“No.” His answer is the twist of a knife.
“Oh.” I don’t want to see how much deeper that blade goes.
I turn to put some distance between us, but Kiaran’s voice rings out behind me. “My kind hoard years because we’re selfish by nature,” he says, sounding almost angry. “We add each one to our collection until we’ve amassed so many that living no longer has any meaning. It becomes trivial, unimportant, and boring. Is that what you want for yourself? What you want me to wish for you? Because make no mistake, a human death would be far more kind.”
I go cold inside. That’s his future, his life, his existence. If I survive to find the Book and make it mine, he’ll live on. My bones will be long in the ground and he’ll still endure.
The fae don’t truly live. They simply exist.
When my eyes meet his, the black of his outer irises bleeds over the lighter color again. I hate that small bit of darkness there, that reminder of his Unseelie nature, a separation between us.
The need to feel his skin on mine is overpowering. I just caught a glimpse of our separate futures, and now I’m reminded of how little time we have left. If we find the Book, this is it. If we don’t find the Book, this is it. These small breaths between battles.
“I want you,” I whisper, swallowing before my voice catches. I’ve never told him that before. Not ever. I glance at the space beside him. “May I sit?”
The blackness keeps spilling across his irises, and then retreats. He takes a deep breath and nods. I slowly ease next to him, pressing my thigh to his. He settles his hand on my knee, a gesture that’s both familiar and distancing. As if he wanted it there to either touch me in return or push me away.
“Tell me to stop and I will.” I press my palm to his cheek and he shuts his eyes. “Just say the word.”
I lean in and kiss him softly, only once. “All right?”
Kiaran’s grip on my knee tightens, but he nods again.
I dip my head to press my lips to the space above his shoulder. “All right?” I whisper again.
He’s still. So very still. I hear him swallow. “Aye.” The word is a plea on his lips, and I hear the blatant want there. The need. Just as much as I want and need.
I scrape my teeth gently down his neck and feel his soft, shuddering breath against my tongue. He seems more human than ever before. More vulnerable. Just . . . more. More everything.
When I slide my hand down to the bottom of his shirt, he seizes my wrist. I watch the struggle in his expression and understand that even if he feels human, he isn’t. He’s Unseelie. And I’m testing his limits.
When he opens his eyes again, they’re clear. I can tell he’s exhausted, that the battle to keep his Unseelie nature contained is beginning to take its toll.
“Sleep,” I tell him. “For once, you need it.”
When I start to get up, he doesn’t release me. “Stay,” he rasps out. “Don’t go.”
He pulls me down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, whispering the words again. Stay. Another. Stay. Another. He says it like it’s all he has left to ground him. He says the words because we don’t have years.
We hoard our minutes, our precious hours, because they’re all he and I have left.
CHAPTER 30
WHEN I stir and pat the space on the ground next to me, I find it cold. Empty. Something crunches nearby and I snap my eyes open, my hand going for a blade.
Sorcha and Aithinne are leaning over me.
“You were snoring,” Aithinne says, tilting her head slightly. “And pawing at the ground like a small dog. Humans are very strange when they sleep.”
Sorcha snorts. “Are you capable of saying anything that isn’t completely ridiculous?”
“I’ll say something that isn’t completely ridiculous when you say something that doesn’t make the people around you want to rip your head off.”
I sit up so fast my head spins. It’s still nighttime in the forest—or perhaps it always is. The bonfire has long since died, but the moon still hangs full in the sky, bright enough to illuminate the spaces between the trees. I scan the woods for Kiaran, but there’s no sight of him. The only indication he was here is the flattened grass next to me, his coat tucked around me like a blanket. He must have covered me before he left.
“Where’s Kiaran?”
Aithinne straightens. “You were the only one here. We walked through a door and there you were. Snoring.”
Why would he go off alone with the Morrigan still out there? My stomach knots with dread. I hope she didn’t lure him away. She was able to manipulate his Unseelie nature in the cave far too easily.
“The Morrigan attacked us,” I tell them, pushing to my feet. I shove my arms into Kiaran’s coat and pick up my sword. “We need to find him. Now.”
Aithinne looks confused. “You only fell through that hole a few minutes ago, how could—”
“Don’t be a idiot, Aithinne,” Sorcha says in irritation. “Time works differently here, depending on where you are. It’s the same as in the Sìth-bhrùth.”
Wherever he is, Kiaran is injured, tired, and losing control. He could be in trouble.
I buckle my sword sheath to my waist and head for the trees. “If you’re coming, hurry up.”
They glance at each other, but follow. Aithinne matches my stride, looking askance at me. “You don’t even know where you’re going, do you? You’re not walking into a fight, you’re running into it at full speed with a blindfold on and your ears lopped off and—”
“Thank you,” I say. “That metaphor did not need to be extended.”
I risk using a small pulse of power, a searching stroke in the trees around us. Find Kiaran.
Nothing. Not a stir, not a breath, not a whisper.
Aithinne waves a dismissive hand. “You know what I mean.”