Derrick is dead.
Catherine’s eyes fill, as if she reads my mind. She leads me across the camp and down the path through the woods, until we reach the outer edges of the forest. I barely notice how long it takes.
Finally, she takes hold of my elbow and says, “Look.”
I open my eyes and my entire body goes numb with shock. When I left to find the Book, this had been a forest so thick that the light barely penetrated to the ground. The trees towered into the sky, so high that I could barely see the stars. I remembered their lack of color, the way the forest looked as if it were a faded ink drawing instead of a real forest.
Now it’s gone. It’s all gone.
There’s nothing left.
CHAPTER 41
CATHERINE GUIDES me through the last line of trees, and what I see there sends another jolt of horror through me. The forest has broken away and fallen into a massive crevasse like the one in the Sìth-bhrùth. It goes so deep that I can’t see beyond the dark.
There isn’t any land left on the other side, either. The escarpment here extends out of sight, as far out as an ocean. A deep black pit of nothing. It’s as if the camp were the only place left in the whole world, an island dashed into a dark space.
And what’s left of the camp? A few thatched cottages and a bonfire? “How much has gone?” The question catches in my throat.
Catherine shifts uneasily on her feet. “We’re in the center of it. The only reason this camp isn’t at the bottom of that pit is because Derrick put up a protective shield. With him gone”—she pauses—“I’ll wager it won’t last much longer.”
“What about the mainland?” Stay steady. Be calm.
“Aithinne opened a portal and left a few hours ago to inspect the damage. She says everywhere she’s looked so far is the same. Land crumbling, lochs drying up.” Catherine steps away from me, her expression fierce. “I know you’re grieving, but you have to win this fight. You have to.”
“I will.” I must.
Find the Book, kill the Morrigan. For Derrick. For this small, sad, scorched realm. So I can return everything to the way it was.
I back away from the cliff and my vision pulses as another headache slams through my temples. I sway on my feet and Catherine catches me. “You really should get some rest now. I’ll talk to Aithinne about replacing your weapons.”
Catherine leaves me by the fire. Gavin and Daniel have gone off somewhere, but Sorcha is still there, looking into the flames with an unreadable expression.
She glances up when I settle down on the log near her. She’s lounging on the ground, her long legs crossed at the ankles. She’s putting on a damn good show of appearing at ease. “You look ghastly,” she says.
“Don’t make me punch you in the face.”
I swear she almost smiles. “Well, well. Someone is embracing her ruthlessness.”
My laugh is dark, dry, and brittle. “Do you want to know how cruel I can be? There are moments when I think about what the Morrigan did and how much I want to punish her. I think about taking that Book and giving her a body just so I can torture it. Slit her throat, tear out her heart, and make her hurt. And then I realize”—I look up at Sorcha—“that’s what you warned me about. It would make me just like you. And I’m still so tempted.”
Sorcha goes still. Something about her expression is raw, open. When she speaks, her voice is rough. “The Morrigan and the Strategist both put me in a cage. He marked me and tried to make me his. She broke my body, stole my soul, took away my name, and forced me to sing until I had no voice left. She murdered who I was and left behind this . . .” She looks at her hands. “This shell. I know I said it was inevitable, but fight it. Don’t give in and be like me. Don’t let yourself.”
I stare at her, turning over her words in my mind. “Why?” I whisper. You said I was ruthless. I don’t think I can be merciful, not like Aithinne.
Sorcha looks away. “Because it won’t give you purpose. You won’t ever find relief. Those painful memories don’t disappear just because you destroyed the one responsible. Killing just makes you empty.”
She stands and strides off toward the forest, stopping only when I call her name.
“I can’t forgive you,” I tell her. “You took my mother from me, and you made Kiaran say that vow. And I can’t ever forgive you.”
When Sorcha turns her head, her expression is shadowed by the trees. “Forgiveness isn’t something given,” she says softly. “It’s something earned. What could I do to earn it, Aileana? Nothing. I’d make the same choices. I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
A jolt of surprise goes through me when I realize she said my name.
She said my name for the first time.
Before I can reply, she walks away without another word.
Gavin steps out of one of the thatched cottages. He watches her retreating shadow and looks at me. “Do I want to know?”
“No,” I say softly.
“Should I send Aithinne to threaten her?”
Haven’t there been enough threats? Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Forgiveness isn’t something given. It’s something earned.
“That’s not necessary.” My voice sounds flat, unfamiliar to my own ears.
What do I know about anything anymore? I used to think all fae were evil. It was uncomplicated, easy. Now my thoughts and feelings are messy and chaotic. The one person who made things easy was Derrick.
And he isn’t here.
Gavin settles down beside me. “Do you want to be alone?”
I stare into the fire. “No.” I can’t help the sob that erupts from the back of my throat. “Gavin, I’m not all right.”
“Shh. Come here.” Gavin gathers me against him.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
I can’t keep losing the people I love. I can’t keep fighting. I can’t keep going out into a battle with less and less of a reason to win.
Gavin strokes my back, and when I look into his eyes, they’re wet with tears, too. “Since when do you ever admit defeat? You’re as stubborn as Derrick was.”
“And now he’s gone,” I whisper. “I watched the Morrigan kill him, using the person I love as his executioner. Just to make me pay for refusing her.” I shut my eyes, trying to push away the memory of Derrick dying. “Look, can we talk about something else?”
Gavin is silent for a moment. Then: “I knew you cared about Kiaran. I didn’t know you were in love with him.”
That’s not any better. Gavin is terrible at this. But I’ll take any change of topic I can get.
“I’m not sure he knows either. I’ve never said the words.”
Gavin squeezes me gently. I settle against him. Now that Derrick is gone, he’s the one comfort I have left from home. Him and Catherine.
“I used to think the fae were incapable of loving anyone,” he says. “But when I see him with you, I think—” His laugh is low, dry. “I loved you once. And I never looked at you the way he does.”
Derrick’s words from back in the pixie city flicker across my memory. Like he wishes he was mortal.