blocks it with his hand, a thin slash of blood appearing across his palm. In the blink of an eye, it heals over.
“You can’t deceive me, Kadamach,” Sorcha says bitterly. “Not while you’re bound to me.” Kiaran’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s because of our bond that I’m warning you. My brother seeks to take the Seelie and Unseelie thrones.”
“Please. He doesn’t have that kind of power,” Aithinne says. I hear the tightness in her voice, the fear not quite concealed by nonchalance. “And he’s not Seelie any more. He has no claim to—”
“When he finds a way to steal the Falconer’s power”—she gives me a small, arrogant smile—“he’ll be one step of the way there.”
Mine? How could my power possibly help him do that?
“It won’t be difficult, since your little human friend can’t even access her power to fend him off.”
I don’t even respond to her insult. My mind is reeling. What did Lonnrach tell me in the Sìth-bhrùth? You can unlock an object I seek. That is your sole purpose.
He must have meant that only my power could unlock it, just like the device Aithinne made.
Without a monarch, the Sìth-bhrùth will wither. Someone must take her place.
How would my power help him steal the thrones? As if Sorcha sees the question in my face, she smiles mockingly. “Oh, my dear sweet lass. You still have no idea what you’re capable of, do you? Such a waste.”
A pulse of old anger heats my skin. Lonnrach may not be mine to kill, but Sorcha is. One day I’ll find a way to drive a blade through her heart and kill her without Kiaran dying in the process. Whatever it takes. She’s mine.
Sorcha bares her teeth. Come get me.
I will, I promise her. I vow it.
It isn’t until Aithinne steps closer that I realize I had my blade out and ready. “Lonnrach can’t take her power without the proper ritual, and even if he knew it, he’s not strong enough to perform it.”
“Well,” Sorcha says, finally averting her gaze from mine, “it seems he’s found a way around that.”
You can unlock an object I seek. That is your sole purpose.
Your sole purpose.
The object. The object will be what takes my power. I almost say it out loud, but clamp my mouth shut when I remember Sorcha is here. I can’t give away that I know anything.
Kiaran’s smile is mocking. “He didn’t trust you enough to tell you, did he?”
“Don’t bait me, Kadamach. I’m speaking to you at the risk of my brother’s wrath.” Sorcha whispers so softly that I almost don’t hear her at all. “At the risk of her wrath.”
Her? But Kiaran’s already speaking. “And you still haven’t said why.”
Sorcha’s expression is so vulnerable, even Kiaran seems surprised by it. “If my brother finds what he’s looking for, he’ll be able to kill you.” She recomposes herself, lifting her chin defiantly. “This is self-preservation, Kadamach. I have to keep you alive to keep me alive.”
What rubbish. This is Sorcha. She killed my mother. She’s betraying her own brother and can just as easily betray us. Why should we listen to anything she says?
“If you intend to help,” I say, working to keep my voice calm, “then tell us what else you know.”
Sorcha looks like she’s considering killing me, too. “Whatever he requires to take your power is on this island. That’s all I know.”
So Lonnrach isn’t just looking for the city and for me. Derrick said his soldiers had been patrolling the island before I escaped. That means whatever he needs to steal my power and become monarch of the Sìth-bhrùth is here on Skye.
You spent a year training under my enemy and that rogue pixie. I assume they often spoke about things you didn’t understand.
If Lonnrach got the location from my head, it can only mean one thing: He suspected Derrick or Kiaran knew where it was.
Kiaran steps forward. “If you’re lying—”
“Oh, Kadamach,” Sorcha says with her typical mocking smile. “You know we can’t tell lies. Now, I really do have to keep up my performance and make it look like I’m loyal to him.” Her green eyes glow bright. Those sharp teeth of hers flash as she grins. “You had better run.”
I suddenly feel the heat from her, as if she were the source of a blazing fire. Her power grows in my mouth, stark and unyielding. Iron and blood on my tongue, down my throat in an endless, unstoppable stream.
Then, I hear it. The