Chapter 40
40
The rain batters my armour as I sprint across the blood-soaked field.
Something dark and gleaming bursts toward me out of the corner of my eye. I throw myself down just as massive cu? si?th jaws snap shut where my head used to be. I roll, blades flashing out, and drive a weapon into the hound’s belly. Its guttural howl chokes off. I’m up and running again before its bulky body hits the mud.
The sharp bite of ozone overwhelms my tongue as I approach the seal. I drop to my knees, fumbling with numb fingers to open the satchel of replacement parts. The first damaged piece I yank out triggers the protective Falconer barrier.
No time for care or finesse. I slam the replacement gear into place, wincing as a jagged edge slices my fingers. Blood wells up, hot and wet, coating the engraved runes along the metal ring. A flare of light bursts outward, circling me and the broken seal in a glimmering wall of power. Agonised shrieks split the night air as the pursuing fae crash into the now-active barrier and erupt in an explosion of flame, ice and ash. The remaining fae rein their horses, keeping a wary distance from the dangerous barrier separating us.
Lonnrach emerges from the army’s ranks, scanning the shimmering wall with detached interest. The silver filigree adorning his armour glints in the moonlight.
“That won’t save you, Falconer,” he calls out.
I clench my jaw, biting back the first five scathing retorts that spring to mind. Antagonising the volatile fae lord that currently has my city under siege doesn’t seem the wisest decision, no matter how satisfying it might feel.
Lonnrach extends a hand wreathed in gold fire and launches the flames at the barrier. Cracks spread outward from the point of impact, rippling through the magical shield as it wavers under the force of the blow.
The other fae join in, raining down strikes fuelled by deadly magic. The combined assault batters the glimmering surface. I watch as it trembles, deformed by the repeated blows. It won’t hold much longer.
Cursing under my breath, I start yanking fractured pieces out of the damaged seal mechanism. I pile the warped brass discs and broken gears beside me in the mud. Just focus on the task. That’s all I can do.
The sharp ringing of blades behind me snags my attention. I glance up to see a familiar silhouette cutting through the fae riders. I’d recognise the lethal grace of that fighting style anywhere.
“Hurry up, Kameron!” Kiaran shouts over the din, dodging an enemy’s swing.
“Terribly sorry for the delay,” I call back. “I’ll be sure to plan for immortal armies and magical sabotage better next time! Do check my social schedule!”
Another vicious blast slams the failing barrier. Lonnrach watches me from across the field, no doubt waiting for the first crack to split open so he can gain access. His eyes track my every move with the patient focus of a hunter.
I replace each component with painstaking care. One slip could mean disaster. The gears shift, the engraved rings align—I can’t afford a mistake. Not with the entire city depending on me. I ignore the symphony of violence raging nearby and focus on the plates etched with runes, the gears that turn the intricate locking sequences.
My blood sizzles where it coats the metal. The closer I get to restoring the assembly, the louder the repaired apparatus hums and throbs with gathering power.
Almost ready to re-engage the trap. Almost ready to bury Kiaran along with the others. Just a few more repairs left.
Some perverse impulse compels me to seek him out amidst the chaos. I drink in the sight of him wielding those deadly blades with purpose and efficiency. The way he pivots and dances between enemies, iron sliding home into flesh, severing bone and artery.
I burn every detail into my memory. The glint of his dark hair in the fog, the shift and bunch of muscle beneath rain-soaked clothes. The restless prowl of a predator moving in for the kill. I’ll never see it again. Never spar with him or hear that rough velvet voice teasing me. Telling me without words that I’m his match in every way.
After tonight, only memories will remain.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force the final piece into place. The device vibrates with power, humming as the parts align and fuse again.
But the battle rages on around me. Swords continue to clash, and magic still detonates and roars. Dread congeals in my veins. It should be working. The wards should be triggered.
“Why are you just sitting there?” Kiaran demands. I watch as his blade slides home between a fae’s vulnerable ribs.
“Something’s wrong. It’s not activating the seal!” I shout back, pulse now thundering against my ribs. Did I position something incorrectly? Or was there some crucial component I failed to identify and replace?
Kiaran parries another swing of Lonnrach’s curved weapon. “Then bleed on it again, Kameron!”
Lonnrach pursues Kiaran across the ravaged meadow. They collide again and again. But Kiaran’s movements have slowed. He rallies, deflecting blow after crushing blow, but I can see the toll. The force of Lonnrach’s strikes causes Kiaran to slide in the mud, boots seeking purchase. He’s as dangerous as ever, but sharing power with me has weakened him.
“You’ve improved since our last bout, Kadamach.” Lonnrach bares his teeth. “But prison provided time to plan all the creative ways I’d make you suffer.”
Kiaran’s expression remains implacable, giving no reaction. “And ample time for your arrogance to swell unchecked, clearly.”
They leap at one another again. Raw power ignites the air as their blades meet, forcing me to squint against the searing brightness. When the harsh light fades, I note blood slicking their clothes from fresh wounds. The gashes tearing across Kiaran’s broad shoulders look deep. His left sleeve is soaked through with red.
Lonnrach’s grin stretches wider. “Don’t you want to end his suffering, Falconer? Just imagine the eternity of torment in store for your Kiaran. The exquisite agonies I have planned will last centuries.”
My chest aches with the need to keep watching Kiaran, to sear every line of him into my soul, my heart. But I force my attention back to the inert seal mechanism. Gripping my knife, I reopen the gashes on both arms. Blood drips over the engraved runes. I watch the way it beads and pools across metal, waiting for the machine to react and engulf this meadow in implacable magic once more.
“Leave my consort out of this,” Kiaran says. “I’m the one you blame for our realms falling to ruin, remember?”
I hear the clash of their blades meeting again and again, their forms nothing but blurs behind the blinding discharge of colliding power.
“Why do you delay, Falconer?” A familiar voice slides through my mind. “Are you finding it quite difficult to trap your Kiaran?”
I jerk my head up, pulse stuttering. Sorcha stands on the scarred battlefield beyond the barrier’s glimmering veil. She tracks my every movement with those fathomless emerald eyes. I feel the sudden invasive scrape of her presence winding into my thoughts. Pushing deeper.
I wrench my attention to the task before me, muscles locking with effort. Watch the steady drip of crimson spilling over metal. Listen to the seal’s mechanisms buzz and whir mere inches from my knees.
Shut her out.
Shut everything out.
But Sorcha’s alien power smashes into my mind, threatening to drag me into dark water.
The vision hits before I can brace against it—I’m that terrified woman from months ago, pinned screaming beneath claws and fangs. Drowning in blood and agony. I can taste iron bright on my tongue, choking me. Feel my ravaged body go cold.
I push back against the traumatic memory. I cling to my anchor—the white-hot fury smouldering in my veins. The rage Kiaran showed me how to turn into a weapon. I draw it close, letting it fill the vulnerable spaces inside me. Her ruthless mental grasp claws at my psyche, trying to make me falter. But I harden my will and force her out. I reopen the gashes on both arms, deeper this time, and watch my blood seep over metal and stone.
The engraved runes flare crimson at contact. Almost ready. Almost awake again. Just one final push needed.
I steal myself and risk one last look at Kiaran. He and Lonnrach are absorbed in their duel, scorching the earth black around them.
“Goodbye,” I whisper, steeling myself to spill the blood that will seal his fate.
Before I can move, Lonnrach seizes a fistful of Kiaran’s torn shirt and hurls him at the shield.
Time seems to slow, each heartbeat stretching.
The barrier shatters with an ear-splitting crack, leaving the air threaded with golden fissures. Kiaran’s solid weight collides with my chest a second later, driving the breath from my lungs in a painful whoosh. The force of it knocks me flat onto my back in the mud.
For a dazed moment, all I can do is gasp for air and pray my ribs aren’t broken. I become aware of Kiaran’s body pinning me down.
Gritting my teeth, I push against his heavy shoulder. When he doesn’t stir, fear slashes through me.
“Kiaran?” I rasp out.
I roll him off me. Rain pelts my skin as I take in his condition. The entire left side of Kiaran’s face is blackened and raw, flesh charred away to bone. His eyes stay closed, chest still. I press my fingers desperately to his throat, feeling for a pulse. His skin is cool and lifeless beneath my searching touch.
Panic constricts my chest. “Kiaran, wake up. Open your eyes, damn you. You stubborn bastard, wake up! Don’t do this!”
I shake him. Wake up, wake up, wake up.
The soft crunch of boots over grass alerts me to Lonnrach’s approach. “He’s still alive. Not even the seal is strong enough to kill Kadamach.”
The casual assurance brings near-hysterical laughter bubbling up my raw throat. Kiaran is alive. For a wild moment, I want nothing more than to lose myself in his familiar scent of pine and rain. To reassure myself of the life still slowly pulsing through his veins.
My relief is short-lived as Lonnrach’s hand clamps around my wrist. I jerk against his hold, grunting with effort. He presses the sharp edge of a blade beneath my chin almost tenderly. I feel the nick of pain, the slow slide of blood escaping the cut.
“In this moment you believe me your worst enemy.” Lonnrach’s gaze drifts toward Kiaran’s unmoving form, shadowed with emotion I can’t identify. “You’ll wish you had killed Kadamach when you had the chance.”
He shoves me aside, and I sprawl in the mud, pain radiating through my body. Through the filth and rain, I watch as he approaches the seal.
He lifts one boot and brings it crashing down on the central activation ring.
The device splinters like glass under his heel. The seal is demolished. Magic and blood crushed to glittering powder carried away on the wind and rain.
Lonnrach’s eyes reflect no remorse or triumph, only calm purpose. “It’s not personal, Falconer. I just don’t think your kind should exist.”
Then he slams his power into me, and I black out.