The Falconer (The Falconer #1)

Chapter 38

38

The ground shudders again, and I stumble, barely catching myself against the wall.

“I thought we had more time,” I say, grabbing the crossbow and securing it over my armour.

Kiaran’s expression betrays nothing as he straps on enough gleaming weapons to arm a regiment—no hesitation in his quick, efficient movements. While my heart hammers against my ribs, Kiaran remains composed. A warrior preparing for battle. I’m reminded that while I’ve only ever faced down rogue fae, he’s familiar with war.

“The fae were already testing the locks,” he says, not glancing up. “Once they sensed weakness, they struck to shatter the seal’s defences. I’d hoped we had more time.”

Of course, they would seize any chance for freedom. They’ve been chained in the dark for over a thousand years. Give them the barest whiff of escape, and they’ll grasp it, consequences be damned.

“Silly me for thinking immortal entities of unfathomable power might show some restraint instead of immediately unleashing chaos,” I say, aiming for light sarcasm.

At my biting words, Kiaran pauses. He pins me with one of those looks that strip all my carefully constructed walls away, leaving me vulnerable in ways no one else can manage.

“Was that your attempt at humour?” he asks. “To ease the tension?”

“It’s either this or screaming, so yes. Consider it gallows humour if that helps.” I blow out a ragged breath, my heart kicking faster. “If I were attempting actual humour before imminent death and destruction, you’d know. Perhaps I’d juggle severed heads.”

The corner of Kiaran’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. Before I can commit that rare softening to memory, he turns his focus back to choosing implements of destruction. Kiaran finally selects a single black curved blade etched with shifting runes and slides it into his sheath.

Then he grasps both my shoulders, the heat of his palms steadying me. Our gazes lock. “Listen closely. They’ll be disoriented at first after crossing through the veil. We take advantage of any weakness. Fight off as many as possible until you can engage the replacement parts I forged.” His eyes trail over the armour protecting my body in a possessive caress. “Use my power through that armour when you need it. Understand?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. Kiaran squeezes my shoulder again before releasing me to gather the freshly forged mechanical components.

Together we sprint out of the forge. On the street up ahead, a cry splits the darkness as one of the Fade’s fae horses takes shape from the mist. An uncanny creature seemingly wrought from liquid metal, its molten eyes fix on us.

Kiaran lifts me astride the tooled leather saddle before swinging up behind me. I feel every tense line of his body pressed against my back, breathing in time to the frantic rhythm of my own ragged breaths. Fear and exhilaration war within me.

“Hold on,” he says.

His boots dig into the creature’s flanks. We surge through the gates into the fog. Rain sheets down in frigid rivulets, plastering my hair against my skin, leaching away what little warmth remained. I welcome the numbness. It keeps my raw panic caged behind my teeth.

I force out the question that’s been plaguing me, giving voice to my doubts. “How can you be certain your reconstructed seal components will integrate properly?”

Kiaran leans into me as our mount bounds uphill, breath warm against my cheek. “The original device bore my sister’s power. It will recognise mine.” He pauses, then adds more softly, “No reckless gambles. You leave me there, and you don’t try to save me.”

My chest constricts at his words, ribs threatening to crack. I nod stiffly.

We leave the Fade and push through onto the rain-slick streets of Edinburgh. All around us, buildings shudder on their foundations, stone cracking and crashing down in plumes. Screams echo up the narrow wynds as panicked people flee the destruction, but their terror barely registers through the maelstrom in my mind. Raw energy coils thicker and tighter through the electrified atmosphere as the power of so many ancient fae unfurls after long imprisonment.

As we crest the hill, hulking shapes materialise from the churning fog. Even at a distance, magic crackles and around the fae, power bleeding out in visible sparks through the charged air. While we scrambled to shore up their failing prison, they readied an entire invasion. And not one of them appears weakened.

“Kadamach.”

The slicing voice halts my frantic thoughts. Every muscle in Kiaran’s body goes taut against my back. I crane my neck to find the source and stop breathing. An elegant silver-plated warrior stares at us across the distance, seated astride a horse wrought of the same flowing mercury metal as Kiaran’s mount. His beautiful face is framed by a spill of ivory hair that whips in the storm. That remote stare bores through me.

When the fae speaks again, contempt drips from each syllable in a language I don’t understand. “ Ig fi′r e′ de′g-to′ .”

“Lonnrach.” Kiaran bites out the name as if it were a curse. “I see imprisonment hasn’t dimmed your arrogance.” The fae’s too-bright gaze fixes on me, pinning me in place. “Nor tempered your audacity, Kadamach. Why don’t you introduce me to your lovely consort? I assume she’s why we’re speaking this barbaric language.”

I have only a heartbeat to brace myself before Lonnrach’s power crashes over my senses. It spears through muscle and bone, scorching along my veins until I grit my teeth against the searing violation.

Kiaran’s protective grip on my waist tightens. But even that anchor point proves useless against the full onslaught tearing through the last shreds of my mental defences.

I sway in the saddle, grappling for any handhold to keep my seat. Blood roars loud in my ears, nearly drowning out Lonnrach’s sibilant order. It resonates through me, reverberating down to hollow marrow. Compelling me against my will.

Come to me.

Every muscle in my traitorous body strains, yearning to obey. To submit to the smothering darkness enfolding my mind in sickly sweet oblivion. Lonnrach’s cloying presence slides into the cracks and empty spaces inside my skull until no part remains untouched. Claiming me from within.

I try shaking off the oppressive fog smothering my thoughts. But submission comes so much easier than fighting. The crimson blossoms of his power slides over my tongue—lush petals gliding sinuous and smooth. I watch as my hands release their white-knuckled grip on the saddle.

Against my screaming will, my body sways out of the seat toward the silver-armoured fae.

In a heartbeat, Kiaran is beside me. His bruising hold clamps down on my wrist before I can obey the compulsion to approach Lonnrach. To offer up my throat or beg at his feet. To become a doll with all its lovely, bloody insides scooped out.

“No.”

The single growled syllable shatters the stillness. Kiaran’s power scours through my psyche. Scraping away the effects of Lonnrach’s influence.

When my vision finally clears, I see Kiaran’s eyes have bled to quicksilver. His power spills out around us in a glacial tide, leeching all warmth from the electrified air. He looks every inch the lethal fae warrior I first met—beautiful and distant, honed by endless centuries of violence. Utterly merciless.

Yet Lonnrach’s luminous focus remains trained on me.

“You’ve always been selfish with your pretty toys, Kadamach.” I can almost feel the phantom trace of his hand trailing down my arm, my throat—another violation. Can taste those cloying blossoms coating my tongue once more.

I sway into Kiaran, pulse hammering a frantic rhythm beneath the skin.

Mine , Kiaran’s power seems to whisper across my nape, down my spine. Always mine.

“If you want to keep all your fucking limbs attached when we finish here, get the hell out of my consort’s mind.” Kiaran’s resonant voice comes out lethally soft. “ Now .”

Lonnrach smirks. “Let the girl come to me. Unless you’re admitting that your consort is weak?”

Kiaran’s expression shutters as he glances at me. Eyes searching, considering.

Then his hand falls away, his power recedes, and I’m only aware of the sudden sensation of my legs obeying commands no longer my own. Of my body swaying forward as if pulled by invisible strings. Lonnrach’s presence pours into all the hollow spaces in my mind until no part remains untouched. Violating deeper with each step.

I gave up control too easily before. Now, it’s far too late. I’m standing before Lonnrach with no memory of closing the distance between us.

His hand comes up to grasp my chin. As our eyes meet, I feel myself plummeting deeper. Pulled under dark waters by some inexorable tide eroding what little remains of my fraying self. My thoughts drift muted and dull beneath the crushing weight of Lonnrach’s will. I am consumed inch by inch. Unmade and remade in his image.

“So delicate for a Falconer.” Lonnrach’s musical voice drifts to me as if through deep water. “Slim bones. Easily breakable.”

The fae trails a possessive finger over the line of my jaw again. Like a wolf admiring the graceful arch of its prey’s throat a moment before snapping its neck. I should recoil, but my traitorous body only leans nearer. Craving more of this gentle brutality. The smell of crushed blossoms and loamy earth envelops me—spring rain on the moors. But beneath lurks something darker. Decay clawing up from grave soil, hungry and insistent.

“Tell me, has Kadamach fed from you yet? Tasted how sweet you are?” he continues. “His scent is all over you. And his hunger always was insatiable, even compared to mine.”

I hear Kiaran growl, a feral rumble from deep in his chest. Lonnrach’s casual words are challenging his restraint. His fury bleeds through our bond like shards of ice in my veins.

Lonnrach tips his head, noting Kiaran’s response. “Come now, Kadamach, no need to play the jealous suitor on my account. We both know you always craved variety. I simply want to see what about her enticed you to brand her.” He turns his attention back to me, trailing his fingertips almost gently along my throat. “Such a shame we’ll have to break that pretty new armour before I rip your soft throat out—but I confess I’ve always had a certain weakness for the taste of Falconers.” His next whispered words ghost over the shell of my ear, “And you have something I want.”

“What is that?” I shape the question at his command.

Lonnrach’s lips curl with the hint of a smile. “Plenty of time for that.” He looks over at Kiaran. “She’s exquisite, and I’m sure she tastes lovely. That’s all I can recommend in her.”

“Is it?” Kiaran asks, voice tight. “Because the only reason I’m not separating your head from your body for touching what’s mine is because I think she ought to have the pleasure of doing it personally.”

What’s mine.

The thought resonates through me, beginning to nudge loose the tendrils of influence. Kiaran just claimed me, even while I’m under Lonnrach’s influence.

The fae’s luminous gaze trails over me. Considering. Assessing. Violating without laying a hand on me.

“She seems tame. But perhaps your tastes have softened over the years of my captivity.” Lonnrach smiles, baring the sharp points of too-white teeth.

Tame.

Submissive , my thoughts snarl back. He thinks you’re so weak he’s insulting you to your face, in front of the male who marked you because he thought you worthy.

Something sparks to life inside me then, flaring to brilliance deep in my chest, igniting a flood of heightened, blistering awareness. Of molten fury scorching through my veins. Kiaran’s power echoes within the armour shielding my body, aligning with my kindling anger and blooming brighter. The air around me charges with gathering energy. Currents crackle over my skin with violent intent.

I know Kiaran senses my defences locking into place, fortified by those rising emotions. The consort mark flares hotter. When the first raindrops strike my armour, they sizzle and evaporate on impact.

As I regain control in increments, wrenching what Lonnrach sought to claim back piece by piece, the fae blinks at me in surprise.

I sever our forced connection with a vicious snap. And I smile at him, all teeth.

“If I have something you want,” I snarl, “then you’ll have to fight me for it.”

In an instant, I yank the crossbow off my back and fire. Lonnrach dodges at the last second, but not quickly enough. The metal edge of the bolt slices through his cheek. Blood wells along the laceration, crimson against pale skin.

A promise written in blood.

For the span of a heartbeat, Lonnrach stares, eyes calculating. Then, he turns to address the rows of mounted warriors awaiting his command.

“Destroy it all.”