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Sorcha tosses her hair. “I didn’t drag myself out of that bitch’s clutches just to scurry back into hiding. Time to remind her why I was her favourite plaything.”

“As delightful as this posturing is,” Kiaran growls, “I’d like to stop restraining a furious death goddess now. So if we could move this along.”

The Morrigan slams into my shield again. The impact judders through me, magic fraying. Slipping. I feel something rupture behind my eyes. Taste blood on my tongue.

But I shove the pain down deep. Lock it away beneath my ribs. “What if Kiaran, Sorcha and I combined our power? “Could we stop her?”

Lena tips her head. Considering. “No better time to try.”

Kiaran’s gaze snaps to mine. “Just say when, and I’ll turn her loose.”

I draw a breath that saws at my lungs. “Gavin, Daniel . . .” I glance at the two men—all that’s left. The ache in my chest sharpens. “I need you to buy us time.”

Gavin’s answering grin is reckless. “You hear that, Reid? Looks like it’s finally time for my idiotic Plan B.”

Daniel snorts. “I suppose there are worse ways to go than being a martyr.” He looks at me, gives a sharp nod. “We’re with you. Now finish this.”

“Rip her apart,” Gavin adds. “And when it’s over, bring us back. You hear me? Or I’ll haunt your troublesome arse for the rest of your godforsaken life. I swear it on my best waistcoat.”

“Understood.” I’m proud of how steady and calm I sound.

I extend a hand to Sorcha. “I still loathe you,” I tell her. “More than any creature that’s ever walked this earth.”

“Oh, Falconer.” A chuckle. “I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual.”

On my other side, Kiaran twines his fingers through mine. Warmth seeps into my skin at the contact, steadying me. Grounding me.

“Now, Kiaran,” I say.

Agony lances through me as I drop my shield, allowing the protective magic to fall away. The air fills with the acrid stench of ozone, power crackling around us.

Gavin and Daniel hurl themselves at the Morrigan. Her head whips toward their approach, a predator catching the scent of prey.

Kiaran’s lips graze my ear. “Don’t look,” he breathes. “And don’t listen. Don’t let it distract you.”

To the sounds they’ll make as she tears into them. To the screams.

I let my eyes fall shut, turning my face into Kiaran’s warmth. He smells like frost—like home.

Lena’s hands alight on my shoulders. Steadying. Ancient words pour from her in a lilting murmur. They sear themselves into my skin. My soul. Burrow and take root.

I echo them back, letting the spell twine with Sorcha’s voice. With the relentless drum of Kiaran’s heart against my cheek. The magic swells inside me. It fills every hollow space and crevice until I’m brimming with it. Until it feels like my bones might splinter apart.

But I call up the dregs of my power and shape them into offerings. Into a fragile flame cupped between shaking palms. I feed it with each rasping syllable, each fresh spill of blood from my nose, my eyes. It scalds my tongue. Chars my lungs.

I don’t stop.

Energy whips around us, radiant and sibilant. Shadows and light tangled together. Life and death and eternity braided into one arcane cord. It takes all I have to stay upright. To keep our tenuous connection from guttering out. From shattering.

Sorcha’s and Kiaran’s power courses through me. It floods my senses, blistering nerve endings until I’m stripped raw. I feel my atoms begin to fray, the fundamental core of me unspooling.

But I hold on. I let pain and desperation become tinder for the flames.

My vision strobes crimson at the edges as I watch our combined spell slam into the centre of the Morrigan’s chest. Aithinne’s mouth gapes wide, but no sound emerges.

Only silence, thick enough to choke on.

And then the world explodes.

Power detonates outward in a blinding light, levelling everything in its path. The few buildings still standing tremble on their foundations. Mortar turns to powder, stones shaking loose. The atmosphere ripples with the aftershocks.

Aithinne crumples to the ground. Her eyes flutter open, dazed but mercifully clear.

Her own once more.

I slump against Kiaran. He eases us both down and gathers me into his lap.

“Sorcha,” he says, “see to Aithinne.”

Cool fingers skim my brow. Ghost over my cheeks. “Look at me, mo chridhe ,” Kiaran commands. He tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Keep those lovely eyes open for me.”

Before I can summon a response, a crack splits the air, followed by the ominous groan of straining masonry. All around us, the remaining structures crumble as the realm collapses.

Lena’s soft voice drifts through the haze of pain. “Not much time left to save your world. Unless you kill your sister within the next thirty seconds, Aileana is the only one who can break that curse.”

Me?

A hairline fracture spiderwebs through the cobblestones near my face. I stare at it, uncomprehending. Something niggles at the base of my skull. Some vital piece I’ve forgotten. It hovers just out of reach, taunting.

And then it slams into me. A child of the Cailleach . . .

Kiaran goes still. I feel the tension thrumming through him in realisation.

Has to sacrifice that which they prize most . . .

“Lie to me,” he says, voice rough. Raw.

. . . Their heart .

I try to jerk out of his embrace. “No.”

I’m a child of the Cailleach. And for me, the thing I hold most dear—

It’s Kiaran.

It’s always been him.

The beautiful, brutal bastard doesn’t even flinch. Just cups my face in his palms. Lays his brow against mine and breathes deep.

“You know why you have to do this, clever girl. Tell me a lie that can’t be twisted to truth,” he whispers.

Tears slide down my cheeks. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Don’t cry, you infuriating creature,” he murmurs. “No need to ruin such a spectacular, world-saving evening at the last moment.”

A choked laugh scrapes out of me. He silences it with the press of his lips. The slow drag of his mouth over mine.

When he pulls back, his eyes are bright.

“Tell stories about us,” he says. “When the dust settles, and the smoke clears. When they whisper about the Unseelie King and his consort.” He brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones, wiping away the tears.

“Tell them that when I first saw you, I knew. I saw how clever you were. How bold and fierce. Brilliant and broken and so very beautiful. And I knew loving you would never be a choice. It would come as easily as breathing.”

My heart clenches. But he isn’t finished.

“I would have picked you,” he tells me. Hushed like a secret. A prayer. “If I’d had a choice, if there’d been anyone else, I would have picked you. Every time. In every world. In every life.”

He breaks off as the buildings around us crumble. As the realm begins to splinter and dissolve.

Another kiss, soft as a sigh. “I’ve been alive for two thousand years. Seen empires rise and fall. Generations live and die. And in all that time, I never did a thing that wasn’t selfish. So let me do this with you now. Let me do one thing that matters.”

He presses the hilt of the sword into my palm. Curls my numb fingers around the grip.

“Tell me a lie, sweet lass,” he says again.

Taking the sword from him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The most impossible thing. But I do it. Because he’s asking me to. Because he needs me to.

I cup his cheek, memorising the feel of him. The way he looks at me—like I’m everything.

“I don’t love you,” I whisper.

The lie scrapes my throat raw. Leaves me bleeding.

But I say it anyway. I say it as I press my trembling lips to his one last time. As I breathe him in, taste the salt of my tears on his skin.

And then I drive the blade straight through his heart.