Page 48

I jolt upright, a ragged gasp tearing from my lungs. Pain lances through every nerve ending. It takes a moment to register the rough scratch of wool against my skin, the sweat-damp sheets tangled around my legs.

Where am I? What happened?

Fragmented images flash behind my eyelids. Kiaran’s teeth sinking into my throat. The blue of the Morrigan’s eyes, staring out from his face. The tattooed fae, slipping through mirrors. And Derrick—

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.

Derrick is dead.

The knowledge crashes through me. Scours me hollow.

Dimly, I feel the hot spill of tears down my cheeks. The aching throb in my throat.

A rustle to my left snags my attention. I blink past the salt-blur of tears to see Catherine leaning over me, concern etched into every line of her face. Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed. She’s been crying.

“Hello,” she says. Hoarse.

“Where . . .?” I croak.

She looks away. “Back at camp. You’re safe.” A pause, weighted. “So are the others.”

Not all of them. Not Derrick. Never Derrick, not ever again.

I shut my eyes. Clench my hands in the blankets until my knuckles blanch. “What happened?”

Catherine draws an unsteady breath. “We heard thunder. I thought maybe it was more land breaking apart. But it was you.” She swallows. “You tore open a rift between realms. Dragged yourself and the others out.”

I try to snag the wisps of memory, but they scatter like smoke. There’s only the vague impression of light. Of heat. The concussive force of my power slamming out of me in a wave of destruction. Kiaran holding me as I sobbed, whispering soothing words against my temple.

And then nothing but the darkness dragging me under.

I touch my shoulder. Stroke the place where Derrick should be. His absence is a yawning void, devouring everything.

“He saved me,” I whisper. “He died saving me.”

“I know,” Catherine murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

A bitter laugh scrapes out of me. “He wasn’t supposed to die. Not for me. Not ever.” My voice breaks. “How could he do that? How could he just . . . leave?”

“Oh, Aileana.” Catherine sighs and reaches out to grip my hand. “He did it because he loved you.”

The tears come harder. Faster. Broken sounds claw up my throat. It hurts. It hurts like my heart is being shredded. Like there’s nothing left but tatters.

Catherine eases onto the bed. Gathers me close. She holds me while the grief rips through me in waves, dragging me under again and again.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. Minutes, hours. Time loses all meaning in grief. I’ve felt it before.

“I never got to thank him,” I rasp. “For everything he did. Everything he was.”

“He knew, Aileana. Of course, he knew.”

I think of Derrick. Of his quick hands. The way he’d sit on my shoulder, watching the world with ancient, glittering eyes. His ridiculous clothes, all ribbons and flounces. The way he’d sing bawdy tavern songs just to make me laugh.

And now he’s gone. Ripped away, like everything else.

Something calloused and cold unfurls behind my ribs. Like rage. Like the serrated edge of a scream. I welcome it. Let it wash through me, burning away the numbness.

I shove the blankets away. Swing my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way the room spins. The nausea rising in my throat.

“Aileana, what—” Catherine reaches for me.

I shrug off her hand. “I have to go back.”

She gapes at me. “You can’t be serious. You were half-dead when you dragged yourself out of there! You can barely stand!”

“I’ll manage.”

I take a step toward the door. The pain is blinding—it’s all I can do to lock my knees, to keep from pitching forward. Catherine makes a low, distressed sound and steadies me.

“You’re not going anywhere. Not like this.”

“I have to,” I rasp. “I need to finish this.”

I made peace with my death the moment I stepped into this war. The moment I let the Cailleach’s power sink barbed hooks into my soul. When I dragged my stubborn carcass from my grave by my nails.

I’m already dead. I’m just waiting for my body to catch up.

Catherine’s face twists. She drags me into her arms, and I feel the warmth of tears. “You stupid, stubborn woman,” she rasps. “I love you so much, and I’m angry at you.” A shuddering gasp tears out of her. “Don’t you dare leave me and die.”

My throat locks up. “I won’t,” I whisper.

“Liar.”

I snort. “Then I’ll try not to.”

Reluctantly, she pulls back. “There’s something you need to see,” she says. “Before you go.”

I let her lead me out of the cottage, with her taking more of my weight than I’d like. Toward the outer edges of the camp, where the trees thin and the shadows grow long.

And then I see it. It’s like looking at the end of everything. At the slow death of the world.

The land has cracked and disintegrated, leaving a gaping wound. A crevasse that swallows everything—a void with no end. No light.

“How much is left?” I don’t recognise my voice, the flat quality threading through it.

“We’re at the centre of it.” She scrubs a hand over her face. “The only reason what’s left of the camp didn’t crumble is because of Derrick’s wards.”

I shut my eyes and try to breathe past the bands compressing my lungs. The deep, gnawing ache taking new teeth.

“And now that he’s gone . . .” I can’t finish. Can’t say the words out loud.

“The magic will fade,” Catherine says quietly. Gently, like she can soften the blow. “And then this too will fall away.”

I look out over the pittance that remains. The scattered handful of cottages, the smouldering bonfire. The ragged edge of the cliff where the rest of our world used to be.

All that’s left of everything I’ve fought for. Killed for. Died for. A lonely island of the lost and broken, just waiting to collapse into the dark.

“And the mainland?” I don’t want to know, but I make myself ask.

“Aithinne opened a portal after you returned. To survey the extent of the damage.” Catherine hesitates. Wets her lips. “Everywhere she’s been, it’s the same. More breaks in the land, more lochs and rivers drying up.”

She turns to face me then, reaching out to grip my shoulders. “I know you’re grieving,” she says, low and fierce. “I know you’re in pain. But you have to win this. You have to fix it.”

Find the Book. A tug under my sternum, sunk deep and dragging. Kill the Morrigan and set everything to rights again. For Derrick. For everyone.

So I can finally, finally rest.

I take the yawning desolation, the simmering rage, and pack it away. Lock it up tight behind my ribs and throw away the key. Let my face smooth out into a mask, blank and cold as an executioner’s.

“I will,” I tell her. “I promise.”