Page 93 of The Fallen Kingdom

When I nearly fall again, Catherine catches me and slides her arm around my waist to hold me up. I lean heavily against her, flushing with embarrassment at how weak I am.

“I have you,” Catherine says. “I have you.”

We slowly make our way out of the cottage. I close my eyes against the outdoor light. A headache pounds through my temples and Catherine waits patiently until I move forward.

When I open my eyes again, I see Gavin and Daniel sitting next to the fire keeping an obvious eye on Sorcha, who looks unusually passive. Kiaran and Aithinne must have gone off somewhere. And Derrick...

Derrick is dead.

I remember this feeling. I remember how much it hurts. After my mother died, I would wake up and go into the drawing room, still expecting to find her sitting on the settee with her morning tea in hand. She used to look up with a soft smile and say the same thing:Good morning, darling. What shall we do today?

But she wasn’t there. There was no smile waiting for me. No words of welcome. Just a cold, empty couch in a cold, empty room. Every day was a reminder that she was gone.

Just like this. Just like now.

Derrick is dead.

Catherine’s eyes fill, as if she reads my mind. She leads me across the camp and down the path through the woods, until we reach the outer edges of the forest. I barely notice how long it takes.

Finally, she takes hold of my elbow and says, “Look.”

I open my eyes and my entire body goes numb with shock. When I left to find the Book, this had been a forest so thick that the light barely penetrated to the ground. The trees towered into the sky, so high that I could barely see the stars. I remembered their lack of color, the way the forest looked as if it were a faded ink drawing instead of a real forest.

Now it’s gone. It’s all gone.

There’s nothing left.

CHAPTER 41

CATHERINE GUIDESme through the last line of trees, and what I see there sends another jolt of horror through me. The forest has broken away and fallen into a massive crevasse like the one in theSìth-bhrùth. It goes so deep that I can’t see beyond the dark.

There isn’t any land left on the other side, either. The escarpment here extends out of sight, as far out as an ocean. A deep black pit of nothing. It’s as if the camp were the only place left in the whole world, an island dashed into a dark space.

And what’s left of the camp? A few thatched cottages and a bonfire? “How much has gone?” The question catches in my throat.

Catherine shifts uneasily on her feet. “We’re in the center of it. The only reason this camp isn’t at the bottom of that pit is because Derrick put up a protective shield. With him gone”—she pauses—“I’ll wager it won’t last much longer.”

“What about the mainland?”Stay steady. Be calm.

“Aithinne opened a portal and left a few hours ago to inspect the damage. She says everywhere she’s looked so far is the same. Land crumbling, lochs drying up.” Catherine steps away from me, her expression fierce. “I know you’re grieving, but you have to win this fight. You have to.”

“I will.” I must.

Find the Book, kill the Morrigan. For Derrick. For this small, sad, scorched realm. So I can return everything to the way it was.

I back away from the cliff and my vision pulses as another headache slams through my temples. I sway on my feet and Catherine catches me. “You really should get some rest now. I’ll talk to Aithinne about replacing your weapons.”

Catherine leaves me by the fire. Gavin and Daniel have gone off somewhere, but Sorcha is still there, looking into the flames with an unreadable expression.

She glances up when I settle down on the log near her. She’s lounging on the ground, her long legs crossed at the ankles. She’s putting on a damn good show of appearing at ease. “You look ghastly,” she says.

“Don’t make me punch you in the face.”

I swear she almost smiles. “Well, well. Someone is embracing her ruthlessness.”

My laugh is dark, dry, and brittle. “Do you want to know how cruel I can be? There are moments when I think about what the Morrigan did and how much I want to punish her. I think about taking that Book and giving her a body just so I can torture it. Slit her throat, tear out her heart, and make her hurt. And then I realize”—I look up at Sorcha—“that’s what you warned me about. It would make me just like you. And I’m still so tempted.”

Sorcha goes still. Something about her expression is raw, open. When she speaks, her voice is rough. “The Morrigan and the Strategist both put me in a cage. He marked me and tried to make me his. She broke my body, stole my soul, took away my name, and forced me to sing until I had no voice left. She murdered who I was and left behind this...” She looks at her hands. “This shell. I know I said it was inevitable, but fight it. Don’t give in and be like me. Don’t let yourself.”

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