The Falconer (The Falconer #1)

Chapter 36

36

The warmth of the forge caresses my skin as I wake—a welcome change from the cold I woke to before. I assume it must be late evening, judging by the darkness bleeding through the arched windows of his bedchamber. Which means I’ve been asleep for a while.

My gaze falls on the bundle of clothes at the bedside—soft linen trousers and a shirt that actually belong to me. Kiaran must have retrieved them from my townhouse after I fell asleep. The comfort of my attire helps steady my nerves, left shaken after last night’s unexpected intimacy. After letting him feed. This fae has slipped beneath my armour and carved out a space for himself inside me.

I dress quickly and secure my weapons belt, taking care not to aggravate the lingering soreness between my thighs. To my surprise, I find there is none—no lingering marks or pain. As if it had never happened.

With a fortifying breath, I make my way downstairs, following the scent of ash and hot metal toward the forge. I find Kiaran near the carved cabinets, inspecting one of the replacement gears closely. Candlelight catches on his hair, the sharp angle of his jawline. He hasn’t even glanced up at my arrival, seemingly absorbed in examining the metalwork. But I know better. He tracked my every movement from the moment I stirred upstairs, just as I’ve attuned myself to him, two predators constantly circling.

My gaze sweeps the surface of the long wooden table, taking in the clutter of intricate components scattered across its surface—gleaming gears, etched plates, slender vials filled with viscous liquid. The newly forged pieces Kiaran meticulously crafted in the night to refortify the damaged seal.

I lean a shoulder against the wall. “I see conspiring with machinery has kept you busy since I fell asleep.”

“I took a brief respite to break into your house and find you some clothes,” he replies without looking up.

“How did you get past the pixie? Please tell me you plied Derrick with honey wine and promises of violence first. He does so appreciate macabre gifts.”

“Used my voice,” he says simply.

“Ah. Perhaps I ought to finally invest in locks which are impervious to magical tampering. Might even rig the front door with traps,” I say lightly, walking closer. “Flaming oil comes to mind as a deterrent against breaking and entering.”

“You consider flaming oil a reasonable response to my bringing you a change of clean clothes?” Kiaran replies drily.

“Of course not. I would obviously start with poisoned stakes and work my way up gradually from there,” I reply, standing opposite him while he works. “I’m sure you would relish navigating a lethal obstacle course every time the urge strikes you to rifle through my undergarments.”

His mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Your faith in my skills remains inspiring.”

“Merely an acknowledgement of your many questionable talents.” I nod toward the components strewn across the table’s surface. “I take it you made good progress on replacement parts while I rested? Please tell me the world is not ending, and this isn’t an elaborate ruse to trick me into one last night of hedonistic revelry.”

Kiaran sets down the gear at last, pinning me with his gaze. Even now, the unearthly beauty of those eyes steals my breath.

“The seal components are done,” he says. “I’m letting the power in the alloys set fully before we go and replace the broken pieces of the seal.”

His casual words fail to disguise the ruthless calculations behind that elegant mask. I see it in the way those eyes flicker between mercury bright and violet dark as some debate wages within him, cooling his emotions to remote stillness. He’s preparing for what comes next, I realise. What the seal will demand of us both—more blood and power and pain.

“In that case, would you care to spar with me?” I ask lightly. “If touching me helps stabilise your focus, fighting in the snow might prove diverting for us both.”

I turn without waiting for his response, breathing deep so he can’t detect the pounding of my heart. So he doesn’t notice the unsteadiness of my hands, the reckless desires threatening to choke me.

I make my way outside into the snow-blanketed garden, if only to escape the sudden closeness of the forge. Out here, I can almost pretend his presence doesn’t threaten to shatter what little armour I have left.

I stop in the centre of the narrow path bisecting the pristine snow. A barren and beautiful place. Lifeless. I hear Kiaran’s footsteps crunch ever closer behind me until I sense him draw up just shy of touching distance. It takes effort not to shiver. I’m unsure if it’s from the cold or the scorching awareness thrumming across my skin. This feral thing between us. The raw intimacy of last night still smoulders, waiting to ignite at the smallest provocation.

I tip my head back, glancing at him sidelong. Snowflakes cling to the dark waves of his hair, the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He looks like something savage and otherworldly that emerged from a remote forest.

“Well?” I ask, infusing my voice with casual boredom. “Do you intend to stand back there appreciating the view all morning? I thought we were meant to be sparring, not competing over who looks prettiest covered in frost.”

Amusement ghosts briefly across Kiaran’s face, there and gone. “If you insist.”

Power slams into me.

It crashes through my senses, ripping away all control and sending me sprawling to my knees on the frozen earth. I barely catch myself, grazing my palms, pain brightening the world for one searing instant. A startled gasp tears from my throat.

Everything in me rails against this vulnerability, this forced submission. I should have known better than to ever show him my back.

“Shut your eyes,” Kiaran commands, his voice resonating through my bones, allowing no resistance.

Darkness swallows my vision immediately. I clench my fists, breathing through the disorientation. The cold from the ground leeches up from my knees, numbing me. I strain every sense, trying to track Kiaran’s movements by the soft crunch of his boots on snow. But everything goes eerily, unnaturally silent around me. No hint of life stirs in this dead garden.

Fear sinks its claws deeper into my fraying composure. I’ve never felt so untethered, lost inside my own head. It’s as if he peeled back the layers of my armour, my defences, rendering me vulnerable. Exposed. Bile climbs my throat as the blackness presses in from all sides. I force slow, deep breaths, grappling for control.

“Break it.” Kiaran says softly.

Not a hint of mercy or affection in that cultured voice. Just a remote assessment from an impartial executioner studying his next victim.

Instinct rises up, baring fangs and claws forged from animal impulses. But this is the lesson he means to teach me—to find and embrace that animal fury for survival.

To fight or flee.

Resist or die.

I extend my senses outward into the crushing darkness, seeking to exploit any flaw or weakness in his hold. But Kiaran’s will surrounds me, as implacable and remote as winter.

“Break it,” he repeats, soft threat and cruel promise. “Or yield.”

I try reshaping my panic and rage into a blade to pierce his hold. But the shadows cling tighter, impervious to my attacks. The darkness presses in on all sides. Choking me. Trapping me inside my own skin.

The darkness presses in tighter, suffocating, forcing the air from my lungs. Nausea climbs and climbs. I can’t catch my breath or think past the dizziness of being confined and blinded. It’s as if dark water has closed over my head, a ruthless riptide wrenching away all points of reference.

I hear him sigh and whisper, “Forgive me for this.”

Kiaran’s power crashes into my mind again, shredding discipline to tatters as it tears through vulnerable memories.

—Fangs flash in the darkness. Strong hands wrench my head aside, exposing the vulnerable line of my throat. There’s a sharp pinch, a wet heat at my neck. The shadows come alive with inhuman growls and razor-filled mouths descending.

Nails rake my back. Agony explodes through me as a knife plunges deep and twists. I can’t scream. My nails break as they dig into the earth beneath me, saturated in my blood.

Break, the fangs say.

Break, the voices say.

And when you do, you’ll break so exquisitely—

No. I force my way back from the edge through sheer fury alone. Focus on the red rage filling my veins until I feel alive. With a vicious snarl, I tear my eyes open and wrench against Kiaran’s hold with everything I have.

The frozen garden materialises around me again. My nails have scored deep gouges down my forearms. The frigid air sears my raw throat—I realise I’ve been screaming.

Disoriented, I blink until Kiaran comes into focus before me. He says nothing at all, just watches me with eyes empty of anything human. Cold and remote as carved marble. Lethal grace honed into a weapon aimed straight at my heart.

I let my shredded arms fall, watching blood spill over to soak the pristine white snow. My price paid in flesh.

More injuries are nothing new. But the ragged patterns trickling toward Kiaran’s boots feel different somehow. A line crossed irrevocably between us.

“You saw those memories. Didn’t you?” I gasp.

Something in me fractures further beneath that gaze. I am flayed open now for him to examine. Laid out piece by piece at his feet. The damage goes deeper than skin—he saw the unspoken thing between us I can’t name. The blood dripping in the snow feels like a eulogy.

I wait for him to speak.

But Kiaran only shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. When he looks at me again, the silver sheen has receded from his irises. Regret, lurking beneath the granite and ice.

He lifts my bloodied, quaking hands between both of his own. So gently, brushing a thumb across his mark on my palm. As if I have become something fragile and feral all at once. A half-wild thing requiring infinitely patient taming.

Then he falls to his knees and leans forward, pressing his cheek to my lap. A predator kneeling in supplication, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, sweet lass,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

I scrape my nails through his hair, punishing. “I never wanted you to see me like that.”

He shuts his eyes. “Rage is the only weapon I know against compelled submission. I had to teach you.”

I hold him against me, still half-feral, still wanting to hurt something. Understanding why he’d done that, but wanting to be angry, wanting to rage. Wanting to turn my fury outward until it destroys.

“And have you done that, Kadamach? Turned your own pain into a weapon like I just did?”

Kiaran goes still at the sound of that name on my lips. One reserved only for lovers or enemies, but not for me. Not between us.

“Yes,” he answers simply. Honestly.

Pretty words and pleasant lies could never survive what’s left between us now. We’ve ravaged one another, right down to the bone.

He lifts his head, and we regard one another across the blood-spattered snow. The truth hovers on my tongue, but I forge ahead, giving it voice. “After losing your Falconer?”

A muscle feathers along his jaw, but he inclines his head in silent confirmation. “And my sister,” he says quietly.

That takes the edge off my anger, loosens the tension in my hands by slow degrees until I’m cradling his face in my palms. “She’s one of the ones imprisoned, isn’t she?”

His voice comes out low and rough. “Aithinne chose to bind the seal a thousand years ago. She knew I had to be free to stop our enemies and to protect the Falconers while she was gone. She made me vow it. And now I’ll join her beneath the city with the others.” Kiaran’s hushed words scrape like a blade over bone.

The quiet admission hits me with crushing force, stealing air from my lungs. What just happened is forgotten in a wave of desperation so intense that I’m dizzy.

“But the seal hasn’t fully ruptured yet,” I rasp. “You forged replacement parts. If we—”

“It still requires my power to bind them properly, Kameron.” His words clash against mine, final as the fall of an executioner’s axe. “I already used magic to charge the replacements. Without my presence during activation, the wards will fail.” His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on mine. “The locks would break.”

I can already see the implacable resolve in his ageless features. An immortal preparing to inter himself alongside the traitors he battled centuries ago. Caging himself to buy a handful more years of peace for a city not his own.

My next words scrape raw from my throat. “So that’s it then? Mere hours left together before you lock yourself away for eternity?”

Kiaran’s expression shutters, his elegant features smoothing into a mask once more. “I’ve made my choice. It was made a long time ago.”

Bitter anger surges up to choke me. “Well, far be it from me to dissuade you from martyrdom. You wouldn’t be the first I’ve lost to misguided duty or penance.”

I whirl away, composure fraying. But I only manage three strides before Kiaran seizes my wrist, jerking me back to face him. No remote tactician now, but fire barely contained.

“I think you know this stopped being about duty the moment I gave you my mark,” he says, tone almost sharp.

“Is this goodbye then?” I whisper.

“I don’t say goodbyes.” Kiaran’s thumb caresses my bottom lip. “Come with me. I have something for you.”

He turns away down the path. After a moment, I follow in his footsteps.