Page 64 of The Fallen Kingdom

He’s so close. His fangs flashing, reaching for me, to choke the life out of me—

Kiaran grabs the wraith by the throat and with a swift jerk of his hand, snaps her neck. Gasping, I stare at the wraith’s slouched, lifeless form as I draw my powers back inside me. I ignore the pounding headache at my temples and stare at Kiaran, but he won’t look at me.

He doesn’t have to.

To my left, the cave wall begins to crumble as easily as dried mud to reveal a portal. Small bits of stone splash around us. I swat at the water in my face, braced for another fight—for the Morrigan to return. But through the portal, all I see is a forest below the magnificent stars of a night sky. A way out of the cave.

Just beyond the line of dark trees, I swear I see a glimpse of a girl with long hair and pale skin silhouetted against the moonlight.

But when I look again, she’s gone.

CHAPTER 29

OUTSIDE THEcave, the forest towers high with trees as thick and dark as soot-covered columns. A bright full moon hangs high, the light illuminating the tops of the branches in a dusky, glowing haze. I tilt my head back at the cool breeze, shivering a bit in my wet clothes.

Who was that girl?

“Did you see...” My voice trails off when I glance over at Kiaran.

His breathing is slow and steady, as if he’s counting the seconds to calm himself down. He lifts a trembling hand to push back his hair. “See what?” His rolling accent is uneven.

“Nothing. Never mind.” I press my lips together, uncertain what to say. “Should we go through the forest?” I ask instead. “Won’t the Morrigan find us easily here?”

“Even the Morrigan would have to recover from an attack like that,” he says. “Taking physical form would have required a great deal of power. We’ll use the opportunity to rest.” Kiaran tosses me his coat. “Here. There’s a roll of bread for you in the inner pocket. You need to eat something.”

The bread is wrapped in leaves that kept it dry. I gratefully murmur my thanks that Kiaran is so practical. Between the Morrigan’s attacks and worrying over the Book, I didn’t even notice how famished I was.

Kiaran gathers wood for a fire and I light it with my powers. A small bit of energy I’m willing to risk because I’m so bloody tired and I’ve never seen Kiaran look this rough, either.

Now you know how I feel, I think wryly as I move to sit near the flames.No invulnerable, shining fae skin. No immediate healing. Just the deep bone-tiredness of mortality.

Kiaran sits opposite, as far from me as possible. The scent of burning wood must mask the scent of my blood, at least a little. His eyes flicker to me in a quick, controlled assessment. “Your wounds need binding.”

I can’t help but smile. “First the bread, now my wounds. Is this the Kiaran MacKay way of fussing over someone?”

“I don’t fuss,” Kiaran says. “I give stern instructions, like: Bind your goddamn wounds.”

“I don’t like overbearing men.”

His mouth quirks into a sly smile. “And yet I love assertive, stubborn women.”

I laugh in surprise. “God, I adore you.”

I ease my coat from my shoulders to check my injuries. There are a few superficial scratches down my arms. The deepest ones, along my shoulders, will need stitching. But I don’t have the luxury of such things now. All I have for dressing my wounds is the fabric from my coat. Brocade isn’t exactly ideal, but anything is better than bleeding out.

As I peel the sopping coat the rest of the way off, Kiaran’s sharp voice startles me. “Burn it.”

I glance up in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“Burn. The. Coat.” This time he says the words through his teeth. “Wear mine to cover up your scent. I can smell your blood and it’s driving me mad.” Then he says something I never would have expected in a thousand years: “Please.”

Please. In all the time I’ve known Kiaran, he has never, ever said that. Along withSorry, I assumed it wasn’t in his vocabulary.

But there it is, the word hanging in the air between us, a mark of his desperation.Please. Now I know the way he looked at me in the cave before he killed the Morrigan’s wraith form wasn’t for show. It wasn’t to make the Morrigan think she had won.

She almost had.

“Very well,” I say quietly.

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