Chapter 7
SEVEN
CAIRN
Alleria has been asleep for a while now.
Her fingers are still curled around my forearm, where it rests across her stomach, and her breathing is slow and even.
Every so often, she stirs, not enough to wake, but enough to touch me in some way—my hip, my face, or squeeze the arm she’s clutching—before settling back into a deeper sleep.
My eyes move over her face. Her jaw is narrower now, her cheekbones more defined … and the ear closest to me, where her hair has fallen back from it, ends in a point that wasn’t there two days ago.
I keep returning to it, while Caelum’s words turn over in my head.
It puts things back the way they’re supposed to be.
I should try to rest. I haven’t slept for days.
Since we started tracking her after Brennan took her, however long ago that was.
And it’s been another two days since we got her back to the camp and healed her.
My head feels thick, my eyes gritty and heavy, but every time I start to drift, I fight my way back to wakefulness.
Her nightmares might return. The shock could hit her again. She might reach for me and find me asleep. Some irrational part of me has decided that closing my eyes would be breaking my promise not to leave her.
So I lie here, staring down at the top of her head, and fight to stay conscious by focusing on the Nightwild threads humming at the edges of my awareness.
Through them, I can sense the Guard spread out amongst the remaining shelters.
The camp is quiet now. The rescued fae are gone, Kaelith and Sorel with them, leaving only five of my Guard here with me.
The original plan was to move the fae who had been hiding since we escaped the Dell in groups. That plan died the moment Brennan took Alleria. Now that we have her back, the king’s soldiers will eventually come into this forest, searching for her. I want everyone gone before that happens.
Using glamour and magic, Kaelith and Sorel have taken the remaining fae, with instructions to check on the village that helped us. Brennan knows about it now. He knows humans helped us.
I can only hope the warning reaches them before the king’s soldiers do.
Alleria murmurs in her sleep, turning her head. Her fingers tighten on my arm, and her lips move. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I’ve heard her say my name enough times now to recognize the shape of it on her lips.
It’s hard to believe that not long ago, she tried to put an arrow through my chest. I’ve always prided myself on being able to predict the way humans will behave, but she has defied everything I thought I knew since the moment I turned her hunt into my escape.
She should have been easy to hate. Yet she never was.
The entrance to the shelter moves, and Therin steps inside. He’s carrying a fresh pot of the herbal drink Serath made. With a glance in my direction, he crosses to the table and sets it down, then walks over to sit on the floor facing me.
I raise an eyebrow at him.
“You’re lying down. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or if I should worry.”
“She woke a few hours ago, clawing at her throat. She thought she was still hanging.” I look down at her. “It took a while to bring her back. Then the shock caught up with her.”
“What about you? Have you slept or eaten anything?”
“Alleria ate, and drank some of that tea Serath left for her.”
He glances at her, noting the way she’s curled against me, and his expression softens. “I didn’t ask about Alleria.”
“No.”
“No, you haven’t eaten and slept, or no you’re not going to answer my question?”
“Does it matter?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a joy to be around when you’re exhausted. All the warmth and charm of a frost-bitten rock.” He looks at the ceiling. “You need to sleep.”
“I know.”
“And yet here you are, wide awake.” He holds up a hand before I can respond. “It’s been two days. You need to close your eyes for a few hours. Vel and I are keeping watch. It’s not going to stay this quiet for long, and whatever comes next is going to require you to be clear headed.”
“I’m fine.”
“There’s that word again. Your definition of it is wrong, because you’re lying and that shouldn’t be possible. She’s sleeping properly, you said so yourself. Close your eyes.”
“If she—”
“If she wakes, she’ll let you know. If she has another nightmare, you’ll hear it.
For fucks’ sake, I’ll sit right here and watch.
If a single hair on her head moves out of place, I will personally come over there and shake you awake.
But you need to sleep, because you’re useless to everyone in this state, and that includes her. ”
“I don’t need—”
The hairs rise on the back of my neck as the air around me fills with the scent of stone and earth and running water. It fills my lungs, and the Nightwild magic reaches for it.
Underhill.
The smells of Nightward surround me—the salt and the wind and the spray off the cliffs below the castle that was our home, mixed with the sweet taste of magic. Fae magic, wild and free.
In my mind, I can see the training grounds where Therin and I spent centuries beating each other bloody for practice, where I stood the night before Therison Vale and looked up at the stars.
I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d see them.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. The magic inside me reaches for it with everything it has.
Home.
Therin shoots to his feet. His eyes are bright, lips parted, one hand lifted as though he can hold the scent in place. The grief and longing on his face are clear. Our eyes lock, but neither of us speaks as we breathe in air that feels right for the first time in centuries.
Then it fades, thinning until the air returns to normal.
No, not normal. It turns stale, empty, and wrong.
“Tell me you felt that.” Therin’s voice is rough.
“I felt it.” My jaw is locked so tight, it’s making my teeth ache.
“That was Underhill. I could smell the metal and heat from our forges.”
“I know.” I can still taste it in the back of my throat, fading with every breath. “I’d forgotten how it felt … to breathe air that holds magic.” The confession comes out soft.
“Is the Seal breaking?” The wild need in his eyes can’t be ignored.
I want to tell him yes. I want it to be true so badly it hurts, but I won’t build up hope, because the truth is …
“I don’t know. I felt it before, just after we returned with Alleria. It lasted barely a second, and I thought I imagined it.”
“But it was real, because this time I felt it. We both felt it, right?” He looks at me, and what I see in his eyes is the same thing I’m feeling and desperately trying to hide—a desperate, dangerous hope.
“If it’s breaking, Cairn … if there’s a way back—”
“I know.”
“If we can reach it—”
“I know, Therin.”
We both fall silent. Alleria is still sleeping, and I wonder if she felt any of it in her sleep.
Therin sinks back to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares at the ground.
“If it happens again, we need to be ready.” He pulls himself back together, the wild hope shoved down somewhere I can’t see it. “We need to understand what’s causing it, and see if it’s getting stronger.”
“We will. But we need more than one moment and a handful of questions before we make it our main priority. I won’t give our people hope that I can’t back up.”
“It’s been three hundred and twelve years.” His voice is soft. “I’d stopped believing finding Underhill again would be possible.”
“I hadn’t.”
He looks up, frowning.
“I couldn’t afford to. If I stopped believing there was a way back then everything I’ve done … every year in that collar, every fae that died … was for nothing. I had to keep believing, even when there was no reason for it.”
“Well, now you have a reason.”
“Yes, we do.”
He’s quiet for another long moment, then he lets out a breath and some of the tension eases from his shoulders. “You should try and sleep. Whatever this means, it’ll still be here when you wake up.” He pushes to his feet. “I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours.”
As he passes, he reaches out to pat my shoulder. “Maybe we’ll make it back home after all.” He steps out into the dark, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
He’s right. I do need to sleep. But the ghost of Underhill lingers in every breath I take, and sleep is a long time coming.
There are fingers on my throat, moving slowly downward, tracing the marks along my skin.
The touch is light and careful, but my skin crawls.
The sensation sends every instinct into defense, and I move.
The Nightwild magic forms a dagger as I roll to pin the intruder beneath me.
Wrapping one hand around their throat, I press the blade against their skin.
“Cairn!”
My eyes snap open. I have Alleria trapped beneath me. Her eyes are wide, and her pulse is hammering against my palm. She holds still, staring up at me.
For one, long sickening moment, I see her blood on my hands, her throat cut from my blade, her eyes lifeless and dull. Then she blinks and the image passes.
The blade dissolves. I pull my hand from her throat, but the imprint of my fingers remains.
“Fuck.”
“I thought I dreamed it.” Her hand lifts and her fingers trace over my jaw. “Not dying. Being here with you. All of it.”
I should move off her. I should put space between my hands and her throat, my body and hers, every weapon I can summon and every place she’s still breakable. But her fingers keep moving over my jaw.
I focus on the feel of them. The warmth of her touch. The sound of her voice. I let each one drag me back to the present. To this moment.
Her fingers slide from my jaw and into my hair.
“I was afraid to open my eyes in case I was still in that cell … or worse, in the square waiting to be hanged.”
The fingers in my hair flex, her nails scraping against my skull. I squash down the instinctive need to pull away and free myself.
She isn’t them.
She hasn’t bought me.
She isn’t reaching for the collar, a chain, or a command.