Page 11 of The Fallen Kingdom

The fae haven’t moved. When I peek around the tree, I notice they’re in attack formation, listening and waiting for any enemy. They’re so still, as if they’re not even breathing.

I reach out with my abilities—nothing more than a searching stroke through the air—and I sense that they’re connected. A web of power links each soldier into a cohesive unit. It keeps the darkness of their hunger for human energy at bay, a burden shared by the group.

Unseelie. Just like the other fae.

I could try to send them somewhere else. I brush their minds with my power, a slight suggestion, a nudge:Maybe you should go back the other way.

As if he can sense what I’m doing, Derrick turns sharply toward me. I stroke a finger down his wings to reassure him, but he shakes his head rapidly, fingernails sinking into my neck. I can’t help the startled jerk that causes me to lose control over my powers.

The small nudge I had intended to give the fae becomes ashove. An obvious declaration:I’m right here.

Oh, bloody hell.

A ripple of awareness moves through the group. Their powers search the air, grasping at mine and prodding to find its source—

My power retaliates. It fills me, the ache in my chest growing. Itscreamsat me tolet it out let it out let it out. I’m dimly aware of Derrick whispering things in my ear, saying my name to try to bring me back. His power attempts to wrap around mine.

Mistake. My power shoves him out, and Derrick tumbles from my shoulder. His wings barely beat in time to save him from slamming into the ground.

“Aileana!”

His startled cry isn’t enough to break through the pounding, unrelenting power roaring to get out. I can’t stop it. I can’t control it.

I let it go.

It wraps me in a cloak of darkness, thick and impenetrable. I am suddenly calm, my pulse a steady cadence. My mind slides right back into the instinct of a hunt. It’s so easy. My power assures me that I am perfect. I am untouchable. Without my memory, it’s the only thing that can help me feel complete again.

I ease away from the tree, ignoring the pixie attempting to grasp at my hair. He says a name—my name—but I’m too far gone to care. I don’t remember that name. I don’t remember that girl. I flick him away with my power so easily.

Then I’m moving fast. To the next trunk, then the next, an unseen predator stalking her prey. I move as if I were part of the shadows. As languid and easy as smoke through the trees.

The fae never even see me as I whirl between them. Not when I whisper in their ears, counting down the moments until their deaths.You first. Then you. I’ll save you for last.

The Unseelie stir, their breath coming fast. Their fear is an elixir.

Until another thread of energy—of fright—makes me pause. Derrick. He’s afraid of me. Just the sick, rancid taste of it makes me lose my concentration. I brush against the tree with an audiblescratch, and the nearest fae turns with a blade in his hand.

He strikes high and I barely move in time. He slices me across the shoulder.

That’s all it takes. I throw back my head with a rough, savage hiss. My blade is in my hands before he can move again. I lash out, catch his throat. I feel the eyes of the others on me, taking in the sight of my dripping blade, shadows rising around me, the body at my feet.

One of them screams—a sharp cry that echoes through the forest. As one, they dive for me.

My sword whistles through the air, nothing more than a blur. Skin breaks beneath my blade; blood splatters across the ground. I am faster than they could ever hope to be. I move like a dancer, in graceful whirls and kicks and rapid slashes.

I am powerful. I am merciless. Each kill fills me up, gives me more energy. My massacre is as swift as spreading darkness.

Something comes at me, a light out of the corner of my eye. I grasp it before I even know what it is, a small body in my hand, my fingers closing over tiny bones and soft, breakable wings.

“Aileana!”

That’s Derrick’s voice. Derrick’s scream. I stare down at him in shock, catching his stricken expression before he flies off into the trees.

I drag in a breath as I survey my kills. I did this. Derrick saw me do this. He saw me lose control.

Why don’t I feel anything?

Not even pride or accomplishment—and something tells me I felt those things about battle once. That later, I fought only out of necessity, survival. Kill or be killed. Either way, I feltsomething.

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