Page 106 of The Falconer

Please say we’ll be fine, I think to him.Please.

A flash of emotion crosses his features, something incomprehensible to me, as if he can read my thoughts. ‘I don’t know.’

Sometimes I wish faeries could lie as easily as humans do. Maybe then Kiaran might feel compelled to reassure me, just this once. I want him to tell me that we’ll be victorious. I want him to tell me that I’ll activate the device and find some way to save him from imprisonment with the others. I want him to tell me that I won’t lose him the way I lost my mother.

I reach over and clasp Kiaran’s hand. His soft intake of breath makes me pause, but after a moment, I thread my fingers through his, and he lets me.

When you lose someone, it’s so easy to forget they’re gone at first. There were so many moments when I would think to tell my mother something, or expect her at the same precise time each morning for tea. Those flashes are so fleeting, so joyous, that when reality surfaces, the grief becomes fresh all over again.

I can’t go through that with Kiaran. I almost lost myself in grief the first time.

‘I’m scared,’ I whisper.

Kiaran looks at me, so still and quiet. I brace myself for his words, unsure of what he’ll say. Terrified by what he’ll say.

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he grasps me by the collar of my coat and presses his lips to mine. Kiaran kisses me deeply, with an urgency I never thought him capable of. He kisses me like he knows he’s going to die. He kisses me like the world is going to end.

I cling to his shoulders and tug at his jacket, bringing us closer. I want nothing more than to hold him and bury myself in his arms and forget everything. I want time to stop.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. ‘I’m scared, too.’

I never thought I’d hear those words. Not from him. I look up at the moon again and it’s nearly consumed. ‘Leave,’ I tell him, suddenly more frightened than ever. I have to try one last time to convince him. ‘You still have time. Save yourself—’

Kiaran’s kiss is fierce, his breathing ragged. ‘Have I ever told you the vow asìthichemakes when he pledges himself to another?’ He slides his fingers down my neck and his lips are so soft against mine that I barely feel them. ‘Aoram dhuit,’ he breathes. ‘I will worship thee.’

I come undone. I pull him hard against me, and bury my face into his neck. My tears are scorching hot against his skin. I press my lips to the wild pulse at the base of his throat. ‘I’ll save you,’ I tell him. ‘I will. I promise.’

Before he can answer, a piercing screech of scraping metal echoes around the park.

The ground beneath the locomotive shakes and I grab the helm to steady myself. Mist rises from the earth, soft and ethereal at first, then thicker, faster.

I look up at the moon. It’s engulfed in red.

Kiaran grips my hand. ‘Close your eyes.’

‘What?’

I can’t see him through the rising mist. It’s thickened too quickly.

He shoves me against the seat and covers my eyes with his hand. Light filters through his fingers, through my closed eyelids. It’s so bright, it actually burns. A dense, oppressive heat thick enough to suffocate me if I let it.

Then . . . power. Similar to Kiaran’s, only magnified a thousand times. My mouth is inundated with sweetness and mud and dirt and crushed flower petals. I try to swallow it down, suppress it, but it keeps coming. It’s crushing me, a flood strong enough to rip me to pieces. It’s choking me, drowning me, and I can’t breathe through it.

‘Kadamach,’ a powerful male voice says. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’

Chapter 36

‘Lonnrach,’ Kiaran says.

He takes his hand from my eyes and I blink against the bright mist. Swallowing the power is difficult. My senses are overwhelmed: the stark taste in my mouth, the scent of rain and something sweetly floral.

The dense mist clears to reveal a tall figure astride a steaming, muscled horse. Ametalhorse. Silver alloy with gold veins, the opposite of my armour, and beaten so thin that its organs are visible beneath. Shining metal bones and muscles of varying thickness glint in the moonlight. Everything is metal except for its heart – which is a real, fleshy organ that beats and pumps liquid gold through the horse’s veins. Steam blasts out of its nose and swirls around Lonnrach’s legs.

There are more riders behind him, dozens of them, and other faeries on foot, standing silently in the tall grass. No wonder their power is overwhelming – I’ve never encountered more than two fae together at the same time. All of them wear battle armour like mine. Beside them are a dozencù sìthand redcaps, and looming on the rocks above us aresluagh. Their thin, semitransparent wings are tucked in as they watch us, eyes glittering, but they’re poised for flight.

My very first thought is to run. Run until I faint.

‘So this must be the Falconer I’ve heard so much about,’ Lonnrach says. He speaks gently, his words carried by the breeze.

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