Page 91 of The Falconer

‘Beautiful,’ he says. ‘Brutal. No words in any language could ever adequately describe it.’ When I stare at him expectantly, he looks reluctant to continue. ‘I hated my home as much as I loved it.’

‘But would you go back, if you could?’

‘No,’ Kiaran replies, his voice clipped, a bit angry. ‘Never. It’s not worth it.’

‘Why not?’

He sighs. ‘Because I didn’t belong there any more, Kam. I don’t belong here, either.’

He doesn’t sound like he hates it. He sounds as if he misses it, as if he left a part of himself there that he’ll never be able to reclaim. ‘Too many painful memories there?’

I think about the Falconer he once cared for, what she might have been like. She managed to convince him to make a vow never to kill humans, to fundamentally change the creature he was born to be. What I wouldn’t give to know how she took a faery, cold and hard and brutal as any other, and humanised him.

Just when I think he might be open with me, he shuts down. His jaw tightens and he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his wet trousers. ‘Aye,’ is all he says.

We’re on the dirt path again. The soil crunching under my boots is the only noise other than the rain. The downpour has slowed to a soft, light mist that looks more like snow.

‘After midwinter,’ Kiaran says, ‘will you still marry him? The Seer?’

I suck in a breath. ‘My father wants me to.’

‘But what doyouwant?’

What you want isn’t important.

But it is. I want to leave the house without a chaperone. I want to be able to turn down dances and not smile and grieve without being judged for it. I want to feel again, the way I once did. I want . . . I want . . .

Hope again. To look forward to a day when my need for vengeance is pacified and I have a future. I know the truth. Even if I could kill Sorcha without condemning Kiaran to death, I won’t ever change. I can’t stop being what I am. This is my nature now, like Kiaran said, and I’ll never be sated.

I can’t say any of this aloud. ‘I want to decide my own future,’ I say instead.

Kiaran studies me, long and slow. ‘Don’t we all?’

A sudden powerful electric jolt shoots through my body. It happens so fast, my knees buckle and I stumble.

‘Kam?’

‘Whatisthat?’ It doesn’t hurt, but the sensation isn’t exactly comfortable, either. It invades me, alien and unwelcome. My skin tightens and aches and I resist the urge to scratch my arms. It’s under my flesh, a persistent tingling. ‘Don’t you feel it?’

Kiaran shakes his head once. ‘What’s it like?’

‘Something electric.’ I shiver again. ‘It’s irritating. Like my skin is going to crawl off.’

Kiaran grasps my arm to pull me forward. ‘We must be close, then.’

The sensation only grows more intense as we continue, but also becomes more tolerable. I can feel my blood pumping through my body, urging me to move faster. I close my eyes briefly and let the feeling lead me.

I leap over a rock in a run and bound across the grass, even though I can barely see. Kiaran races beside me.

The sensation becomes more acute, electricity more intense, a magnet pulling me in. I turn onto another rocky path and realise we’re heading right for the remains of St Anthony’s Chapel.

I race to the north wall of the stone ruins, where the chapel’s entrance used to be. The energy drops to my feet before I reach the threshold and I fall to my knees in the mud.

Then I dig. With my fingers, my hands. I don’t know what the bloody hell I’m doing. I just claw at the ground desperately, breathing so hard that my throat hurts. I dig and dig until my fingernails bleed and dirt cakes my skin. Somehow I know my body won’t stop shuddering until I find the device. I have to find it. There’s a buzzing in my ears, a low clicking that only makes me dig more frantically. I have to find it. I can’t stop now.

My nails scrape against something metal. As I brush off the mud, something glows bright and golden underneath, warming to my touch. Something about uncovering it calms me. The clicking softens as I clear away the dirt that borders a luminous gold disc about the size of a carriage wheel.

The buzzing and electricity are gone and my trembling has stopped altogether. I lean over the golden cover for the seal, tracing the symbols carved into it. So beautiful and warm. There are five indentations near the edge of the disc, as if pressed there by fingertips. Compelled, I cover them with my mud-caked fingers.

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