Page 78 of The Falconer

I gape at Kiaran. ‘What—’ I shift to touch them again. God, but even my counterpane is clean of blood. ‘How did you—’ I stare at him. ‘Some fae remedy?’

Kiaran shrugs. I ignore him and shove the pristine counterpane down my legs. All of the cuts I received from crawling on the beach rocks are healed. The raw skin and broken blisters on my hand are smoothed over. Even the injuries on my forearm, where thecù sìth’s teeth scraped me, are scarred. My bruises, aches and pains have vanished.

‘Do you mean to tell me,’ I say through clenched teeth, ‘that you’ve had that concoction thisentire time?’

‘Of course.’ His response is nonchalant.

I remember those nights I wandered home from our hunts covered in blood, most of it mine. When I barely made it there alive, and Derrick had to wake me every few hours to make sure I hadn’t died. I endured my injuries in secret, dealt with the pain made worse by layers of clothing and corsets.

Kiaran could have alleviated that. Instead, he made me bear it. Just like that, my sympathy over his former human lover recedes and I’m left with the glaring reminder that he really can be a cold bastard.

‘You never once felt the need to use it,’ I say, voice shaking, ‘during any of those nights I earned dozens of injuries?’

‘This was a special case,’ he says, ‘since the poison would have killed you.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t let it,’ I snap.

There’s Kiaran’s anger again. It mirrors my own, except where mine is hot, his is the most frigid kind of cold. The temperature in the room drops and when I breathe in, I feel my lungs constrict.

‘What would you have proposed for every other time?’ he says. ‘That I carry you away from every monster you face?’ He moves closer, until he is practically nose to nose with me. ‘Shall I smother you with my protection until you can’t breathe or lift a damn finger to defend yourself?’

‘Don’t exaggerate,’ I snarl.

‘I trained you for battle,’ he tells me. ‘When we fight thesìthichean, do you think I’ll have those vials with me? My needle and thread handy? Healing isn’t one of my powers, so I taught you to endure pain.’

I’m beyond caring about his excuses. I have to know what else he’s hidden from me. ‘Tell me something. How long have you known the seal was going to break?’ When he doesn’t respond, I ask again. ‘How long?’

He clenches his jaw. ‘Since before I met you.’

‘Ugh!’ I shove at his chest, scramble off the bed and sit at my work table. If I don’t do something with my hands, I might be inclined to shoot him with my lightning pistol.

I snatch up the half-finished shoulder mount for my sonic cannon and shove a screw into one of the holes.

Kiaran doesn’t even spare a glance at my project. ‘Do you think it would have been better if I had told you? You were clearly grieving. You were untrained. When I met you, you couldn’t even use a blade.’

‘My, you are absolutely full of compliments today.’

His contemptuous gaze rakes me from head to toe. ‘Thedaoine sìthwill be at their weakest when they first escape the mounds. It’s the best time to strike, and you’re still not strong enough to fight them.’

I go still and the screw slips through my fingers onto the table. ‘Not strong enough?’ I ask quietly. ‘I thought I proved myself perfectly capable earlier.’

‘You bested me once, Kam. Do you honestly think you can defeat hundreds of traineddaoine sìth?’

I barely understand anything he says beyond the sting ofnot strong enough. ‘Not strong enough?’

Just when I think I have myself under control, he strips it all away and I’m left struggling with the creature inside me that wants nothing more than to fight him until we’re both exhausted and bruised.

‘No,’ he says. ‘Not yet.’

I snap. I grab the lightning pistol off the table. The core rods fan open as I aim for an extremity I know he can heal and pull the trigger.

Kiaran is much faster. He blocks the shot with his hand, grasping the capsule tightly in his fist. He stares at me calmly – for about a second. With a hiss of pain, he opens his fist and the metal capsule drops to the hardwood floor. A Lichtenberg figure forms on his palm, snaking up his wrist from a burn at the centre.

He stares at me in shock. A startling display of emotion for Kiaran.

I lean back in my chair, my anger sated. I believe I’ve proved my point. Again. ‘My shot wouldn’t have killed you, but I imagine that’s still quite painful.’

I don’t know what I expected from him. Annoyance, perhaps. Maybe for him to frown in displeasure and call me a fool again. What I didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. Not the melodic, too-beautiful fae laughter he uses to intimidate me, but genuine laughter that dimples his cheeks and actually makes him look human.

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