Page 15 of The Fallen Kingdom

A woman’s voice amid the torment.Our realms will be destroyed.

“She died,” I whisper, finally realizing what that memory meant. “The woman in my memories. When she died, it caused all of this.” I don’t know how to explain whoshewas, except that she was someone important. Someone who held power over these realms.

“You’re not making any sense,” Derrick says. “You’re not fuddled, are you? Is this something to do with your broken mind?” Then he puts up a hand hastily. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I keep forgetting you’ve—”

“Derrick.” My voice is breathless. At his questioning look, I say, “I think she told me how to save the realms.”

CHAPTER 7

AITHINNE’S CAMPis in the middle of the woods, where the trees are so colorless, they’re almost black.

Lit torches form a massive circle through the trees, the flames flickering high. Beyond the light are three stone cottages. The structures have been hastily and haphazardly built, the walls composed of larger stones interspersed with smaller rocks and uneven, thrown-together thatched roofs. The dwellings form an arc around a massive fire-pit burning high enough to bathe the camp in a dim, golden glow. Though the sun hasn’t set yet, the rest of the forest is so dark that it might as well be night.

There are three people sitting on logs by the fire, speaking in hushed tones. One of them is a girl with blond hair, her delicate features illuminated in the light. She’s sitting close to a muscular young man wearing an eye-patch, who leans closer and whispers in her ear. She laughs, nudging the other man with her elbow.

He looks so much like her. My fae powered senses can make out the details of his features even from here: the same hair color, the same blue eyes. I can see the scars that frame one side of his face around his eye. When he laughs, it’s quieter, more restrained.

Something about the scene makes me swallow back a lump in my throat, makes me want to apologize for something, and I’m not certain what.

Just when I’m about to step forward into the light, Derrick flutters in front of me and puts up his hands. “Not yet. Not until we see what can be done about your memories.” His expression is firm, no-nonsense. “Stay here while I get Aithinne.”

Derrick flies off in a flurry of wings, zooming right past the people around the bonfire. He ignores their surprised greetings and makes for one of the structures. He shoves his way through the rickety wooden door and it closes with a slam.

From the shadows of the forest, I watch the trio around the fire with a longing that aches. I know them. I’m positive I do.

I loved you enough; we all did.

I might be the Aileana who came back from the dead, but I’m nottheirAileana. I don’t have memories of how each of these people loved me. I don’t recall how much I loved them in return.

Despite that, I can’t ignore the impulse to tell themI’m here. I’m alive.

The feeling is so strong that I shift on my feet, about to move forward, when I see a faery—the Seelie Queen, it must be—throw open the cottage door Derrick just went through. He trails behind Aithinne as she strides past the fire.

One of the humans asks if everything is all right. Aithinne responds with a quick, distracted nod, and hurries through the trees at Derrick’s direction. I stand still under the dark cover of the branches until she sees me.

Her eyes meet mine, and she makes a sound in her throat. “Trobhad seo,” she says. Before I can do or say anything, her arms are around me in a crushing embrace. Then she’s murmuring in another language, one I’ve heard before but don’t understand. “Chan eil mi tuigsinn, agus chan eil e gu diofar. You’re back! You’re alive!”

Aithinne’s power calls to mine, wraps around me as warm as her physical embrace. It’s like an old coat I’ve worn a thousand times. I’ve used that power before, in the life I don’t remember. I know I have.

Aithinne pulls back and grins, taking in the state of me. “Oh, my goodness, look at you!” she says in delight. “You look wonderful for someone who just came back from the dead. All of your limbs are exactly where they should be.”

Derrick flutters beside us, clicking his tongue. “She doesn’t remember you, you ninny. Can you fix her or not?”

Aithinne tilts her head, never losing her smile. “Maybe. Do you know, I’ve never fixed anyone’s mind before,” she says brightly. Then she leans in, as if to tell a secret. “I hope I don’t make your head explode. It’s rather nicely shaped.”

“Aye,” I say dryly. “Especially since I need it.”

“Fix her scent,” Derrick says, “She doesn’t smell the same and I don’t like it. My shoulder seat isn’t nearly as pleasant and it’s making me unhappy.”

“Well, her scent might be different, but the lack of memories hasn’t changed her scowl. Such a magnificent murderous glare you have,” she tells me. “I love it. Teach me.”

“For god’s sake, Aithinne,” Derrick says. “Admit it, you got into my honey stash and now you’re completely foxed, because she’s not—”

“Can we focus on the task at hand?” I ask impatiently. “I’d like my memories back.”

Aithinne moves closer, her nose nearly touching mine. Her eyes are an exquisite, bright silver, the color swirling. Suddenly, she sniffs and wrinkles her nose. “You smell like my mother.”

Derrick pauses right in the middle of another agitated loop around the trees. “Your mother? As in the Cailleach, the deranged former monarch, your mother?”

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