Am I the pawn? Then I think of Sorcha’s words. Maybe I’m the entertainment.
I’m pressed so close to this stranger that I can feel his heat through my dress, and it isn’t a normal heat. It scorches. Power burns so thick in the air that I almost gag. It tastes like smoke down my throat, coal fire in my lungs. I can barely breathe. I can barely think.
The Morrigan. She lured me here and I’m utterly, utterly alone. A fleeting image of Sorcha flashes across my mind. Of her mangled limbs and her trembling voice as she sang.
Let’s put you back together and try something else.
“Stop,” I whisper. “Stop.”
“You want me to stop?”
The Morrigan’s hands tighten at my waist, and I feel the unmistakable hint of claws scraping across the fabric of my dress. Her breath is on my neck and I feel the quick bite of teeth. It’s gone so fast. A warning. A nip. One that says, You’re mine.
“But I’m only returning the favor, little human. A small revenge for killing me in the cave. How does it feel?”
That’s her voice now, clear and distinct. A raspy whisper that makes me think of destruction and looming chaos.
“Go to hell.”
Her laugh makes my bones freeze. “How I’ve missed humans. So expressive and so painfully stupid.” Her voice washes over me like a rising tide in winter. Quick, unmerciful. Cold. “Why are you here, Aileana Kameron?”
I risk asking a mocking question. “Can’t you read my mind?”
“In glimpses. Like this ballroom and this dull reception. But unlike your friends, you still have the power to protect your thoughts.” Her claws tighten at my waist. “Now tell me why you’ve come before I sink my claws into your gut.”
“You know why I’m here. I want your Book.”
“Everyone wants my Book for their own purposes. Power, greed, delusions of grandeur. What might your reasons be?”
I pull back enough to see her face, those dark sooty eyelashes framing fierce, bright sapphire eyes. “I want to save my realm.”
The Morrigan’s power rolls across my skin, sinking into my veins and brushing across my bones. Strong, so similar to mine. She’s the Cailleach’s sister. Like calls to like. “You already knew how to save your realm,” she says. “It’s part of my curse. All it took was for one of them to die. And instead, you brought them both to me. Such an unexpected blessing.”
I shut my eyes briefly as her words sink in. I delivered them both—weakened, their powers bound, practically human—to their greatest enemy.
“Are you going to kill them?”
Her lips curl into a small smile. “I don’t sacrifice my pawns until I’m certain I’m about to win.”
I’m not a pawn, then. I’m the key. Always the key.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper. She wouldn’t be here, dancing with me, if she didn’t want something.
The Morrigan’s eyes gleam. “You know the worst part of what my sister did to me?” she asks, instead of answering. Her thumb brushes down my cheek. “It wasn’t that she betrayed me, or even that she tried to destroy me. It was how she left me: without a body. Not dead, not alive, stuck in this pathetic half-state.” She leans in, her voice brushing across my skin like a whisper of silk. “What do I want from you, Aileana Kameron? I want your help. I want my Book.”
Of course. She wants me to do what Sorcha couldn’t: bring the Book to her. And if I don’t . . .
Sorcha’s words echo in my mind again. I was her entertainment.
If the Morrigan doesn’t know where the Book is, there’s still a chance to steal it, have Sorcha open it, and make it mine.
The plan still stands. Find Kiaran. Find the Book. Kill the Morrigan.
“I would advise you not to consider that an admission of weakness,” the Morrigan says in a tight voice. “If you don’t do what I want, I’ll tear you apart. Easily.”
“If you could harm me so easily, you would have done it already.”
“I almost had your lover murder you in my cave.”
“But you didn’t. In the end you couldn’t.”
Now she smiles. It’s like the edge of a razor. “What a clever little girl you are. I can see why my sister passed her powers to you and not to one of her useless children. Pity about your human body.”
“Why ask me to find the Book?” I say, ignoring her jab at my mortality. “Because I have the Cailleach’s powers? Just because she hid it from you doesn’t mean I know where it is.”
A flash of irritation crosses her features. “My sister? Please. She could never have got away with this on her own without me detecting it.” Her voice is sharp. “It was that girl—my consort. I always knew she was too soft. She stole the Book, took it to my sister and they hid it here together. When I followed them, the Cailleach killed my body and trapped me.” Her lip curls in disgust. “I hope my curse made her suffer.”
Aithinne was right not to trust the stories she’d heard. Even the older fae she spoke with must not have been alive when the original Cailleach betrayed the Morrigan. A thought occurs to me: Perhaps Sorcha erased her own memory to protect it.
To make sure the Morrigan couldn’t read her mind to find it.
I keep my expression even. “You didn’t answer my question. Why me?”
Her fingers lift my chin and I meet her eyes. Their bright blue color doesn’t make them any less deep, as deep as an abyss. There’s something vengeful in that gaze, something that has been angry and building for centuries upon centuries. “My little bird was like you once. Stubborn, headstrong. She sauntered in with her garish wings and her wild song and I thought to myself: Those wings would look better painted the crimson of blood, and her voice would sound more beautiful from a cage of my design.”
Sorcha. She’s talking about Sorcha. Little bird.
Broken limbs like mutilated wings. A haunting voice like a caged lullaby. A broken shell of a girl.
“She was such a beautiful thing. I would have been happy to have her chirping by my side, under my rule. But she couldn’t use my Book and that made her useless.”
Couldn’t use my Book. Her words roll around in my mind. Sorcha couldn’t use the Book anyway. No wonder she vowed to give it to me—as if it were a concession, an exchange. Kiaran for the Book. She gave it to me so easily, and I never—for a moment—stopped to think why.
Because I’m a fool. An easily manipulated fool who had everything to lose. And when you have everything to lose, all someone has to do is choose which weapon to use against you.
I try not to let anything show in my face, but I must have failed. The Morrigan’s lips twitch. “She didn’t tell you.” She throws back her head and laughs. “Oh, my clever little bird. Always so secretive.”
I look away. “Just tell me why you’re asking me.”
“Of course.” Her smile disappears as quick as the strike of a blade. “It was my sister’s precaution: Only those in my consort’s bloodline can open the Book, but they can’t use it themselves. She never did trust anyone. Not something I knew until I read my little bird’s memories.”