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Chapter Twelve

NIALL O’LEARY

“Defying the wisdom of ancestors can be a path to ruin.”

Aisling Talamhain, Revered Clan Seer

T wilight wraps Inis Mór in its dusky embrace as I walk Felicity back to Pier House. She’s ahead of me, her strides clipped, her shoulders drawn tight like she’s trying to outrun something she can’t quite name.

I feel the tangled mess of emotions she’s too stubborn to admit thrumming through the ceangal . Confusion. Frustration. Fear. It slams into me like a riptide, dragging me under with her. She wants to pretend none of this happened, to shove it into some neat little box where she can ignore it, but the bond won’t let her. I won’t let her.

“So, what’s got you running?” I ask, my tone deliberately light.

She doesn’t stop walking. Doesn’t even look back. “I’m not running.”

“Sure, and I’m not fae.” I flash a smirk she can’t see, but I know it’ll piss her off anyway. “You always storm off when you’re totally fine?”

Finally, she stops. Turns around when we reach Pier House. “I need a shower. I need to check in with Cyn. Not everything’s about you, you know.”

I step closer, slow and deliberate. She could gut you with a look and leave you bleeding just to make a point and then some, especially if those shadows that trashed the bedroom at the cottage are any indication. “Oh, love, this isn’t about me. It’s about us.”

Her jaw tightens, her gaze darting away like she’s trying to find an escape route. Smart. She should run. Hell, I should let her, but that’s not really an option, now is it? I wait. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, Felicity doesn’t like being cornered.

She closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath, like she’s counting to ten to keep from throttling me. It shouldn’t be endearing. It shouldn’t claw through centuries of perfectly constructed walls, but it does. This pull—this goddamn hunger—it’s the ceangal . Twisting, tightening, locking us together in ways I don’t even understand yet.

When she looks up at me, her eyes glinting in the half-light, she pins me in place like she’s about to set my entire world on fire. “Tell me I’m not crazy,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. “Tell me I’m not the only one who feels whatever this is.”

It’s a crack in her defences, and for a second, I see the fear she’s trying to bury. “You’re not crazy. And you’re not imagining it either. It’s real. It’s dangerous.”

Her brow furrows. “Dangerous, how?”

“Has anything like the shadows—what happened tonight—ever happened to you before?” I ask, lowering my voice. If she’s encountered this before, it could mean something I’m not ready to say aloud.

She hesitates, her hand rising instinctively to touch the mark on her chest. “Not exactly,” she admits, her voice strained. “But there’s been other things. Things I can’t explain. Why? Is that not normal for—” She falters, her gaze snapping to mine. “For whatever the hell is happening between us?”

It’s the answer I expected but still hits like a punch to the gut. She doesn’t realise it yet—the enormity of what she’s just admitted—but I do. It confirms something I’ve been trying to push aside, and it’s worse than I thought.

“It’s not common,” I say, keeping my tone level, careful not to spook her. “Not among my court.”

What I don’t tell her is that my people can wield mist and wraith-like tendrils—illusions meant to trick, ensnare, and drive men to madness—but we are far from limited to them. We twist nature to our will—vines that strangle, frost that burns, illusions that whisper lies until they become truth. We are tricksters given flesh, shapeshifters honed for deception and war. But whatever crawled out of her skin tonight? That wasn’t ours. That reeked of the Crimson Court. Or maybe even the Obsidian.

Our marks should match. She marked me, branding me as hers, but mine should have been ours—her raven and my púca, together. Just like the one over her heart.

Which means Felicity is no ordinary mortal. She might not even be human. How she doesn’t already know that? That’s a mystery in itself.

“There’s something about you,” I say, stepping closer. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back away. “Something powerful. We need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Her gaze locks on mine, fierce despite the flicker of uncertainty I catch in her eyes. “Before it’s too late for what? You keep saying things like that, like this is all some cosmic disaster waiting to happen. But you’re not telling me anything I can actually use. If there’s something wrong with me, if I’m not…” She hesitates, her voice catching. “If I’m not who I think I am, then you need to stop dancing around it and tell me. What’s so powerful about me, Niall? Because I don’t feel powerful. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of shit I didn’t ask for, and you’re the only one with answers. So spill it.”

She stirs a fierce protectiveness I haven’t felt in my life for any lover. Whatever is happening to her, whatever the hell she is, it’s not something she has to face alone. She doesn’t realise it yet, but we’re bound in ways deeper than magic. Her well-being is more than a concern for me now. It’s my ass on the line too. And I’ll be damned if I let her drown in shadows and secrets without me.

I move in, until there’s no space left to steal. “You want answers? Fine. You’re not some mortal caught up in fae bullshit. That mark on your chest? We’re bound, and it doesn’t affect only you. Those shadows? The magic that’s been clawing at you from the inside out? It’s a part of you .” I pause, letting the words sink in. “And it’s not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what you are and why every dark thing in this world is starting to notice.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. Not my Felicity. Instead of breaking, I see the flicker of determination in her eyes. She’s not running from this, even if it terrifies her.

“And I’ll stand with you,” I add, softer this time. “No matter how dark this gets. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“This scares the hell out of me,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But so do the shadows. And if you’re saying we can face them together, then…I need you to mean it. Don’t say it if you don’t.”

Lie to her? That’s not so easy, not with that damn bond humming between us like a live wire. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Shadow Witch.”

Her breath catches. She looks at me like I’m some kind of lifeline she doesn’t want to grab but can’t help reaching for. Her hand moves almost on its own, brushing against my chest.

“Good,” she says, and then she grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me toward her. Then, with a shaky breath, she rises on her toes, her hands sliding up to my shoulders as her lips brush mine. Soft, tentative, like she’s testing the waters of something she can’t undo.

I don’t hesitate. My arms wrap around her, one hand threading into her hair while the other grips her waist. The kiss is wild and everything I didn’t know I needed until now. Her nails scrape against my chest, and I feel our bond flare.

Shadows flicker at the edges of my vision. They’re not subtle. She’s not mortal, not entirely. Beneath that fragile exterior lies a power that could tip the scales between light and dark, and I’m the fool who pulled the trigger by getting close to her.

By connecting, we woke up something in her. Power that’s connected to the fae that’s only starting to stir. The bond between us is a loaded gun, and I’ve got no clue where it’s aimed.

Time? That’s a luxury I don’t have. Not when every second brings us closer to something I can’t name but feel in my bones. It feels like I’ve been here before. Whatever this is, whatever we are, it’s bigger than us. And it’s only a matter of time before it all comes crashing down.

When she finally breaks away, her forehead resting against mine, she exhales. “You’re the most frustrating man I’ve ever met.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “And you’re the most stubborn godsdamned woman I’ve ever known.”

Her laugh is soft, almost bitter. “Guess that makes us a terrible idea.”

“Or the best one.” I pull her a little closer. “But I don’t care about the odds, love. I’m all in. Shadows and all.”

She exhales a soft laugh, her resolve slipping into something more vulnerable.

“I want to see you tonight,” I say, my tone light despite the weight pressing on my chest. “Join me for dinner.”

The flicker of hesitation across her features cuts deeper than I care to admit. “Like a date?”

I’m out of my depth. Fae don’t date. Not like this. But for her, I would rewrite every rule. “Aye. A date.”

Her smile is slow, reluctant, but real. “Seven?”

“Seven.”

She leans up, brushing her lips to mine. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant—then it burns. My hand moves to the small of her back, pulling her closer as I taste her, letting her taste me. Her body melts into mine, and it’s all I can do to keep my beast leashed. She becomes mine every second I touch her, deeper than any bond or mark could capture. I draw her bottom lip into my mouth, teasing her until she moans softly against me.

The sound sets my blood on fire, but the shadows at the edge of my vision twist and writhe, a reminder of everything bigger than us. Bigger than this moment. It’s me who pulls back, breaking the kiss even though I’d give my last breath to keep her here.

She stares up at me, breathless, her cheeks flushed. “I should go. It’s Cyn’s birthday weekend. She’s going to wonder where I got off to.”

“Aye, you could tell her you got off with me,” I suggest, grinning.

“Incorrigible,” she accuses, but there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes.

“And you love it,” I shoot back. My chest tightens because part of me hopes it’s true.

Her gaze dips, a wicked smile curving her lips as her eyes flick back up to mine. “Well, I’ll leave you to keep your pants on and your hands to yourself. For now.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Shadow Witch.”

Her laughter lingers as she turns and walks toward Pier House. The setting sun paints her in an ethereal glow, and I swear, for a moment, she doesn’t look mortal at all. No, she’s looks like a goddess.

The door closes behind her, and I exhale, running a hand through my hair. The shadows stretch and coil in my periphery, the whispers of my ancestors clawing at the edge of my mind.

They’ve never interfered before.

The warning is clear: She is neither fully human nor fully ours. Shadowborn Witches belong to the in-between, where even we cannot go.

Shadowborn Witches. The name is a ghost of a memory, a whisper from the dark corners of my ancestors’ tales. I thought they had died out. When we sealed ourselves away from the Ironlands, the last of them fled deep into the Obsidian Court, claiming the shadows as a refuge.

A handful stayed behind, clinging to some misguided belief that humans could be redeemed, that we could live in harmony. Fools. The bloodlines faded into obscurity, diluted and forgotten by time. Or so I thought.

Felicity is a living contradiction to history, to everything I’ve been taught. The shadows cling to her, respond to her, as if they’ve been waiting for her all along. If her power ties her to the Shadowborn, then she is part of the prophecy, she will bear the one destined to heal and destroy our worlds.

I glance at the door where Felicity disappeared moments ago. If she’s tied to the Shadowborn Witches, then there’s no escaping what’s coming.

The in-between. A place of neither light nor dark, where nothing is what it seems. If Felicity belongs there, I fear we’ve awakened something far worse than shadows.

And it’s coming for us all.