Page 35 of The Fallen Kingdom

Pawn. Pawn. Pawn. Three of them fallen like trees in a forest.

I swallow hard when I realize they mark different camps on Aithinne’s land. The ones he’s planning to attack first. Right in the center is the Queen.

And her crown is broken off.

The heavy wooden door behind me closes and I go still. I sense him standing there, as surely as if he were touching me. I hold my breath and turn.

Kiaran.

CHAPTER 17

KIARAN ISeven more uncanny than I remember, every inch the faery King he was born to be. His luminous, pale skin stands out in contrast to his gleaming dark hair. The candlelight casts him in a halo of red and gold, an effect that’s unsettlingly angelic. But an angel could never look that dangerous, that savagely beautiful. An angel wouldn’t look at you as if torn between desire and violence, between yearning and something else. Something primal. Something dark.

I go still when our gazes meet. His once vivid lilac eyes are now cold and ringed with black, like ink spattered across flower petals.

I can’t recall the last time I was so uncertain about him, so torn between fighting or running orwant. The memory of his lips against mine surfaces, unbidden. I recall it perfectly now. White-hot kisses and trembling hands sliding down my arms, my back, my hips. The sounds he made, his whispered encouragements against my skin.

Kiaran lets out an uneven breath. I wonder if he’s remembering, too. If he’s thinking about every word we’ve ever said to each other, every promise we’ve ever made. I wonder if he sees that space inside me that belongs to him and always will. And he didn’t take it by force or coercion. He wore away small pieces of it until so much was taken up withhimthat before I realized, I had given him the whole of my heart. I had given him my soul. I had given every part of me that was mine to offer.

Kiaran turns his head away sharply, his entire body tense. As if he’s getting himself under control—or, at least, trying to.

Then he looks at me again, and his expression is too even, too composed and unreadable. I grip the table. Not ready to run. Unable to step back. Uncertain about stepping forward.

Aithinne’s voice in my mind is a reminder to remain cautious.No matter how normal he might appear at first, his hunger will always win out. Always.

Is he Kiaran right now? Or is he Kadamach? “Hullo,” I say softly.

Then he’s striding toward me with a hard glint in his gaze, purposeful. Threatening? I can’t tell.I can’t tell. I grasp the hilt of my sword in warning, but he doesn’t even glance at it.

His hunger will always win out. Always.

I pull the blade from its sheath. In the space of a breath, the tip is pressed to the base of his neck.

Kiaran goes still. His eyes lock with mine, his features softening. “Kam,” he whispers.

That’s all I need to hear. The single syllable is a declaration between us, an admission.I missed youandI’m still hereandI’m still me.

I drop the sword and it clatters to the floor, forgotten.

My first words are spoken through tears. “I walked into this room to ask you irritating questions. Are you stillyou?”

Kiaran says something under his breath. A prayer? Then he steps forward, presses his forehead to mine, and wraps his arms around my waist. “I don’t know yet. Ask me another irritating question. Pester me with them.”

I let out a choked laugh. “Oh, thank god. I was concerned I’d have to challenge you to a duel.”

“You still might.” He shuts his eyes, as if he’s savoring the sound of my voice. “I enjoy a good duel, don’t you?”

“Swords or fisticuffs, MacKay?”

His smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Both. Either. I don’t care. I just want you.” He cups my cheek. “Kam.” He says my name like he can’t say it enough. Like it’s his prayer. Like I’m his salvation. Then, in a voice just below a whisper, “Touch me.”

I slide my fingertips across his jaw, my thumb brushing his lower lip. Buying time before I explain everything. I have so much to say. “So you’re probably wondering—”

“Don’t finish that sentence yet,” Kiaran says, pushing me gently against the table. He pulls the collar of my shirt aside to press a kiss to my shoulder. “I prefer this instead.”

“You have no idea what I was about to say.”

“Something about how you’re alive, why your eyes look that way, and why your power feels different.” Kiaran’s lips trail to my collarbone as he begins unbuttoning my shirt. Kissing lower, until he finds the scar over my heart. When he pulls away to look at it, the black ring around his irises bleeds into the color and the fine hairs on my body rise. I’ve never seen his eyes do that before. “And it’ll involve our realms hanging in the balance, both our lives, and an inevitable exhausting battle. Do I have the right idea?”

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