Page 100 of The Falconer

I suck in a deep breath and Kiaran grips my shoulder, as if he heard my thoughts. ‘Remember what I told you about cherishing these moments? You might lose them.’

I dig my fingers into the grass. ‘Don’t presume to tell me about loss, MacKay. What do you know of it?’

He deliberately brought that part of my memory back to teach me a lesson and show how it could be used against me. It’s not my strength. It’s my weakness, and it always has been.

Kiaran says, ‘Lie still, Kam.’

He says it so calmly and rationally, and just like that my anger is shattered. I settle next to him and stare up at the sky again. The clouds are beginning to clear. Everything is so calm, so still. He’s right – I need to appreciate this moment. I don’t know how much my life will change after midwinter, if I’ll even have one to return to.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. You lost your Falconer.’

‘Not just her.’ There’s a catch in his voice. I glance over at him, startled. But when I try to meet his gaze, he looks away. ‘My sister, too.’

The sister Kiaran didn’t want to talk about this afternoon in the drawing room. His sister, who built the device. Who can’t be contacted . . .oh, no.

I shut my eyes. ‘She’s imprisoned, too, isn’t she?’

‘Aye,’ he says quietly. ‘Aithinne fought alongside the Falconers. She made me leave in the middle of the battle, so I wouldn’t be trapped with her and the others. Sorcha stayed out of the fight and had been tasked by her brother Lonnrach to slaughter the surviving Falconers if they won. My sister wanted me to ensure that didn’t happen.’

‘So she sacrificed herself.’ I almost reach for his hand to squeeze it, to offer him some comfort, but I don’t. I’m not certain how he’d take it. ‘Do you think she’s still alive down there?’

‘The others aren’t strong enough to kill her.’ His jaw tightens. ‘But that doesn’t mean they won’t find a way to make her wish they could.’

I shiver. Despite all that I’ve seen, I can’t even begin to contemplate what methods of torture thedaoine sìthare capable of. Even a faery as powerful as Kiaran’s sister could be broken after two thousand years of it. God, what Kiaran must have gone through – muststillbe going through – knowing what his sister is enduring and being unable to do a thing to help her.

‘We’ll get her out,’ I reassure him. ‘She’ll be free of that.’

Kiaran nods. ‘Take care with her. She’s the only one who can come up with a more permanent lock for the prison.’ He’s silent for a long time, and when he finally speaks again, I barely hear him. ‘And I’ll take her place with the others.’

I’ll take her place with the others. All this time I’ve been dreading the consequences if I fail to activate the device. I’ve never considered what will happen if I succeed.

‘Then you’ll be—’ He’ll be imprisoned. And when his sister is safe, we’ll be looking for a way to keep him there. ‘No, MacKay.’

Kiaran tilts his face to the sky. Moonlight bathes his skin in a lustrous glow. ‘It’s my choice.’

Something tightens in my chest and I can barely breathe. No matter what happens, I’ll never see Kiaran again after midwinter. Every option I have ends the same way: with me losing him.

I bite back a bitter laugh. I tried so hard to steel myself against him, putting so much effort into convincing myself of how unfeeling he is, how inhuman. I realise now that despite all my vows never to forget he’s fae, it doesn’t matter any more. Perhaps it never did.

‘Please don’t,’ I whisper. I want him to tell me that he’ll find some way to escape. That we’ll make it out of this together.

‘I have to.’

Anger flares inside me. ‘You don’thaveto do anything. Staying out of this doesn’t go against your damn vow.’

‘This has nothing to do with my vow.’ He looks at me then, with infinite sadness in his ancient gaze. ‘I want to be there with you until the end.’

Chapter 34

When faced with the probability of death, hours speed by like minutes.

I’ve spent the night and morning building and bolting metal until my eyes hurt. My weapons are loaded, in perfect working condition, laid out in my dressing room. My arsenal is diverse, every weapon lethal to the fae, but it still isn’t enough.

There’s one more person I have to see before everything begins. My father sits at his desk, writing. It’s such a familiar image, how I’ve always come to picture him. I take a moment to memorise his features. The dark hair that spills onto his forehead, his brow always creased into a frown of concentration. Those green eyes of his – the only thing we have in common – are narrowed as he composes his letter.

I wonder what he and I would be like now if he had ever shown me any affection, if he had let himself love me just a little. How different would we have become?

‘Father,’ I say.

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