Page 6 of The Fallen Kingdom

“I can’t remember,” I whisper.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” the pixie says. He plants his hands on his hips. “Do you remember dying?”

“No.”

“How you got those freaky eyes?”

“No.”

“How you gained the power to level a whole forest?”

I let out a small laugh despite myself. “Still no. Listen—”

“You remember me, right?” the pixie bursts out. When I shake my head, his face falls. “But...I’m Derrick. I lived in your closet. You’re my companion.” He waves his hands frantically. “I made your dresses!”

I frown down at my dress. “You made this?”

Now Derrick looks insulted. “No, I did not make that.Thatis hideous. I made you things with ribbons and flounces and you looked like you belonged on the top of a fancy cake.”

When I just blink at him, he takes my moment of uncertainty to fly over to me. Then, before I can even protest, Derrick is tangled in my hair.

I almost push him away. I open my mouth to tell him,Stop touching me, because I’m starting to feel things. Too many things. Killing is easy, it’s instinctive. It doesn’t require thoughts or memories or regret over my empty mind. It doesn’t come with a name that’s more like a burden.

Then the pixie’s hands slide through the strands of hair just behind my ear, his cheek presses briefly to mine, and I can’t say the words. Each touch is enough to break through my violent urges to speak to the parts of me I’ve forgotten. Something in me that knows he’s doing this to make sure I’m really here. Alive.

How long have I been dead?

Two months, nineteen days. I’ve kept count.

One inhalation, another, as he breathes in my scent. Derrick frowns. “You smell different.”

His wings fluttering against my skin are so utterly familiar that I shut my eyes. My body relaxes. All my fighting instincts and roaring power are calmed by the immediate comfort his scent and touch brings, a sense ofhome. I can’t help but reach up to stroke his wings.I’m home. I’m home. He’s my home.

“What do I smell like?”

“You, but not.” Derrick sniffs again and scowls. “I don’t like it. It reminds me too much of—” He presses his lips together, the halo around him flashing crimson.

“Now, now,” I say gently. He looks upset, and something tells me an upset pixie is never a good thing. But I have to know. “You can’t start a sentence like that and not end it.”

“Fine,” he bites out. “You smell likehim.”

I suddenly find it painful to swallow and I don’t know why. “Him?”

Derrick’s wings are fanning gently, his jaw tight. “There’s a lot you’ve missed. Let’s save that conversation for later. I just got you back.” He looks me over, pausing at the mix of soot and dirt on my face. Suddenly, his light goes dim and he looks stricken. “Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you’ve been wandering around all this time—”

“No,” I say quickly. Then, more quietly: “I came out of the ground and couldn’t remember how I got there.”And there was no one there to remind me. “You didn’t leave me behind?”

Derrick’s shocked eyes meet mine. “Of course I didn’t—” Then he realizes what I just said. “You came out of the...? Bloody hell. Bloodyhell. No wonder you pointed that sword at me. No one else was here except those goddamn Unseelie.”

Now he’s prodding my temple with his wee fingers, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head when you came back?” Derrick asks, all concern now. “You humans have very fragile heads. Your brain isn’t about to leak out of your ears, is it?”

I wince when he touches a shallow cut along my hairline where a branch must have snagged me while I was running. “Um. I don’t think so.”

“Good. Can you count to five?” He waves a hand in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

I pull away. “Stop that. I’m not an idiot and I don’t have a visual impairment.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know?” he asks, clicking his tongue. After another minute of inspection, he says, “The good news is, you have no serious injuries and your head isn’t broken. Congratulations.”

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