Page 8

The dream rips me from the veil of sleep, the metallic tang of blood still crisp on my tongue. I can feel the bruising press of his body against mine, the harsh bite of the tree bark at my back.

Just a dream , I tell myself, willing my hammering heart to still. But my pulse continues its frantic rhythm, whispering a darker truth.

I’m running out of time.

Before I can dwell on that, power ripples across my senses—foreign and dangerous. I freeze, heartbeat stumbling over itself.

Fae are close by.

“Derrick,” I hiss, scrambling to rouse the pixie slumbering beside me.

He blinks awake, confusion clouding his delicate features. Then awareness clicks into place as his wings flare in alarm. I feel his power unfurl, a protective net sweeping the area. Confirming my fears.

“Outside,” he says. “Quickly.”

We slip from the derelict cottage and melt into the shadows of the surrounding oaks. The rough bark snags my tattered clothes, the sound magnified in the heavy stillness. My heart hammers so loudly I’m certain they’ll hear its frantic rhythm echoing off the trees.

Derrick’s breath fans my ear, his voice barely a whisper. “A dozen soldiers at least. We need to warn Aithinne.”

I nod, pulse kicking faster. “Can we reach her by nightfall?”

Derrick nods. “If we move fast. Quietly.”

His small hand presses against my throat in warning. Wait. Stop . The warmth of his palm seeps into my clammy skin.

I force my frozen muscles to unlock and listen to the whisper-soft crunch of leaves beneath boots drawing nearer. The disciplined tread rings clear through the pre-dawn stillness, swift and efficient. I feel their power unfurl ahead of us, rich and heady, seeking.

Searching for me. For the bodies I left cooling in the loam.

I sense Derrick shift beside me. “We hide. No killing. The King will notice if they don’t return.” He peers around the tree sheltering us, gesturing me forward. “That way. Go.”

I ease around the massive trunk, breath trapped behind my teeth.

Too quick, and my heels will crunch through the crisp carpet of leaves.

Too slow, and the lingering scouts will sense the subtle disturbance in the air.

I slide one foot forward, wincing as my boot toe catches on a fallen branch.

The crack ricochets through the heavy silence.

I scarcely dare breathe, pressing into the rough bark and praying the sound goes unnoticed.

A thousand heartbeats as the forest waits, suspended on the knife’s edge of discovery.

No shouts or alarmed cries reach us. Cautiously, I extend my senses, brushing against the dozen minds ahead. I recoil instantly from the insatiable hunger. The soldiers’ thoughts churn with a restless violence, focused solely on the hunt.

A ripple of awareness moves through the searching fae, their focus latching onto my power, pinpointing the source.

My volatile magic strains against its tethers, screaming to break free.

To protect. To survive. And I’m helpless to resist the sudden violence pounding through my nerves. The explosive need to fight or flee.

Only the heady rush in my veins matters now.

I ignore the pixie grasping at my collar, gently plucking him aside.

“Aileana,” he hisses.

I abandon my refuge behind a gnarled oak and melt into the gloom. Moving swiftly between the close-pressed trees. Flowing between twisted branches and boulders like mist. A ghost gliding unseen through the darkened wood.

I approach one from behind. A cold promise woven through the spaces between their beating hearts.

“You’re first,” I whisper as I hook the soldier’s armour and open his throat with a swipe. His final choked cry is a benediction.

Next.

My blade flashes, blood spraying to pattern the leaves beneath our feet. An intricate mosaic wrought by my hands. So easy. This dance of blades and blood.

I descend on the remaining forces in a blur, my blade singing its vicious song. Slicing through armour and bone while my body moves thoughtless and graceful, anticipating each step in an intricately choreographed dance of death. I am smoke. I am shadow. Unerring and inevitable.

Each fae life I reap fills me with borrowed power until their light gutters out completely, endlessly devoured by my yawning hunger. I am merciless twilight spreading to swallow the wood. Until only stillness remains in my wake.

“ Aileana ! ”

Derrick’s shout pierces the red haze, and I’m myself again. Horror closes my throat as I take in the bloodied clearing, baptised by my fury. The broken bodies litter the forest floor, their eerie luminance fading as the last dregs of life slip free. Scattered on the leaf-strewn earth.

“Derrick, I—” The words lodge painfully in my throat. No explanation for this. For what I’ve done.

For what I did without thinking.

A rough sound escapes Derrick where he’s perched above on a pine bough. He draws in a ragged breath as if just remembering how to fill his lungs. He searches my face as one might a gruesome portrait. I know what violent hunger he glimpses inside me, the ravenous void.

“Now we have to hide a dozen bodies,” he snarls. “Did your self-control vanish as part of dying? Is this part of those new powers?”

I flinch. “Yes.” My confession spills out in a ragged exhale.

“Without my memories, I have no anchor to ground me or these powers. No direction. Just . . . violence.” I pause, hating the way my voice trembles over the inadequate words.

“I need your help. I’m sorry for . . . losing control like that. ”

The lengthening silence frays my composure.

I want to gather Derrick close and soothe away his distress with gentle strokes along his wings.

As if touch alone could erase what I did here.

But he remains out of reach, away from the unpredictable creature wearing his friend’s face.

So I wait, pulse thundering in my ears, counting the endless seconds.

After an eternity, Derrick’s wings stir the air. He alights on my shoulder, movements hesitant. Testing boundaries.

“I didn’t consider how it must have felt, crawling from that grave.” His voice holds a new empathy that catches me off guard. “With no memory of who or what you were.”

He offers easy forgiveness I don’t deserve. I blink against the sting blurring my vision.

“That’s no excuse for my actions. I know I’ve put us at risk.”

Derrick sighs, a soft exhale. “Your response was understandable, given your trauma.” He gently smooths back a coppery curl. “But you’ll be the one to shove them into the burial pit.”

I snort. “You’re far kinder than I deserve.”

“I can never stay angry when you’re standing there looking like a sad, wet little kitten.” He pats my cheek. “Now get to work, you homicidal menace.” Derrick nods to the cooling corpses scattered around us. “If we’re quick, we can make the Seelie camp before nightfall.”