Page 34 of The Fallen Kingdom

Every movement is a discovery. It’s my limbs on fire as I block and lunge and swipe. It’s the breath in my lungs bursting with exhilaration. It’s my fist slamming across a faery’s face so hard that my knuckles bleed. It’s remembering what I can do with a sword and how graceful I am. And it’s showing off for Kiaran.Remember this? Remember us? You once said I was exquisite in battle. Let me show you. Let me remind you.

My sword sings. I battle as if I’m in a dance, tempting him, beckoning him. For Kiaran—for us—this is how we seduce. And I can feel him watching.

This is me. Entering a room. About to ask you annoying questions.

When it’s all over, I stare up at the castle, my breath coming fast.Now let me in, you stubborn arse.

The doors to the castle open with an echo that can probably be heard across the sea.

I smile.Got you, Kiaran MacKay.

CHAPTER 16

IF THEcastle had appeared nightmarish from the lookout point on the cliffs, it’s even more desolate up close. My boots crunch through the dry, cracked soil as I enter the gates. They tower on either side of me, massive doors carved out of black rock that lead to the dark interior.

A frigid breeze ruffles my hair and I resist the urge to shiver. This place is unsettling. Not a single thing is recognizable as being formed from the remains of Derrick’s home, a pixie city that was bursting with life. This castle was erected right over the rubble.

Nothing is left of that city. It’s as if it never existed.

Inside, it’s a cavern. The antechamber is vast, with great arched columns that lead up to a ceiling lit by flickering candles suspended in the air. Every inch of the black rock walls is covered in fae symbols. There’s an aura to the room, a strange glow of energy that casts a shimmer along the stone archways, like when sunlight strikes water at a certain angle.

The walls breathe as if they were alive, as if this entire place were living, a sleeping creature. It’s unnerving and beautiful, terrifying and darkly lovely. A million different dichotomies. Like everything fae.

“MacKay?”

No response.

You invited me in, and now you’re stuck with me, Kiaran MacKay. You’ll have to speak to me if you want me to leave.

I cross the antechamber and head toward a massive oak door that connects the great hall to another room, equally vast and deserted. An empty dais occupies the far end, indicating this as the throne room. But there is no throne there, no sign that anyone rules from the palace at all. My skin is covered in gooseflesh as I pass the vacant dais.

I swear I can feel the age of this place as if it were written along the walls, a tapestry of power depicting the rise and fall of the original palace that the crystal came from. This is an extension of the Old Kingdom, then. Not a replacement palace, but the Morrigan’s home, created anew.

I wince as my footsteps echo across the floor. It’s so loud: the only sound in this empty place. Despite the candles floating near the ceiling, the air is cold. Like the ruins of an old cathedral, desolate and filled with memories long lost. An old fallen kingdom risen out of the rubble and destruction of another.

“MacKay,” I call again. Still no response. “Fine, if you won’t speak then I will: I killed your soldiers in the woods. Your sister didn’t do it.” Nothing. Not even footsteps. “I would apologize, but I’m not sorry.”

I sigh in irritation when there’s no response.Bloody hell, MacKay.

Fine. If he won’t speak to me, I’ll make myself feel welcome. I’ll shout annoying questions down the halls if I have to.

I stride across the throne room and through another door, pausing just beyond the threshold. Now this looks more lived-in. It’s an intimate space, furnished. At the far end of the room is a window that spans from floor to ceiling. Right in front of it is a single black leather chair. I almost smile at the memory of Kiaran’s flat in Edinburgh, what seems like so long ago now. The only furniture he’d had in that place was a chair, a table, and a bed with warm wool blankets. Practicality and small comforts over opulence.

Aithinne was right: He is a creature of habit.

I approach the window. The view overlooks the cliffs of the mainland down to where the waves crash against the rocks just below the palace. I slide my fingertips across the back of his chair. I can picture him sitting there so easily, listening to the sea raging below. Kiaran always found solace in stillness; we both did. It’s one of the reasons we trained so well together.

To my left, I notice the bed.The bed. It’s exactly the same as it was in my dream, right down to the carvings in the headboard. How is that possible?

Aithinne’s words brush across my mind.The Cailleach’s power recognizes its own. And it’s easier because he’s your lover.

When my memories came flooding back, it must have helped our connection. My fingertips graze my neck. Despite the smooth, unmarked skin, the pressure of his teeth hasn’t faded. Nor has my memory of this room. It wasn’t entirely a dream, then. Somehow, my power linked with Kiaran’s and I saw this room before ever setting foot in it.

The only difference is a massive table constructed of heavy oak on the far end of the room, set right in front of the grand fireplace. From here, I can see a scattering of objects on it.

I approach the table slowly.

A map is laid out there, branded into what looks like tanned leather and topped with old chess pieces carved from ivory. I trace the lines of the map and recognize the curve of the bay just beyond the castle, the forest I traveled through with Derrick that stretches eastward along the isle. Each piece is set very deliberately across the map.

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