Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(42)

“Faelan?” says a shocked female voice. “Is that really you?” My frayed nerves spark, and I don’t want to turn. I can’t be hearing right. No way. The goddess wouldn’t do that to me, not tonight. My head is already bollocks; I need to find Sage, I—

A soft touch on my arm makes me look. “Astrid,” I say as my eyes fall on her. After more than three centuries without seeing her, my breath still catches: her regal stance, the smooth, milky skin of her bare shoulders, her perfect alfar features, the delicate way her brow lifts in surprise as she looks me over.

I’m suddenly filled with the memory of us sleeping too long under the old willow tree—and then not sleeping—the day before my brother adopted her as a ward. My gods, Astrid. What the bloody hell is she doing here? She’s not wearing her usual hunter gear of gambeson and tight leathers, and her bow and quiver aren’t perched on her back, but she’s exactly the same, with her ridiculously long golden braid.

“You’re in LA?” she asks, shock in her voice. She knows how much I’ve always hated cities—and that was before concrete and high-rises.

“I’m doing a job for Marius,” I say. There’s so much I want to ask her. But I blink and wake myself back up. I can’t stand here. I can’t waste time.

I glance around again, looking for that selkie I spotted a second ago with Sage’s energy trailing nearby. My guess is they were standing near each other. Maybe Sage spoke with her. I don’t see the selkie now, though.

“Shite,” I bite out.

Astrid follows my line of sight. “You’re looking for someone?”

“I have to go,” I say, beginning to walk away.

She grabs my arm, strong as ever. “Wait, how long are you here for? I want to talk to you, Faelan. It’s been so long.”

“You could’ve talked to me three hundred years ago, Astrid.” I focus on not noticing how familiar her touch feels. “But you chose to stay with my brother, remember?”

She flinches and releases me. “Faelan . . .”

We had decided to leave that summer—both of us. To break our House vow and swear fealty to Brighid instead of Cernunnos, who I’d been serving since my Emergence. In the end, though, she betrayed me, telling my brother Finbar of our plans. They attempted to keep my loyalty by locking me away for a few years, but I broke out. Knowing Astrid, she’s thinking, What are a few chains between old lovers?

I want to stand here and stare at her stunning features, to tell her she was the only girl I ever loved and explain how she crushed me with her betrayal. Instead, I say, “I’ll see you in another three hundred years. Send Finbar and Duncan my love.” And I walk away. I can feel her pain follow me as I go, and it makes my throat ache.

Until I sense another distinctly powerful presence: Kieran.

My teeth clench. I pull a fresh leaf from my pocket and follow the dark energy of the Morrígan blood, past the line of patrons along the front of the club, to the alley. I rub the green life between my fingers as I come around the corner. The leaf’s energy soaks into my hand in delicate threads, the life letting me see into the shadows at the far end, letting me recognize the dark prince—

Recognize Aelia crouched over a body at his feet.

And the blood pooling underneath the body.

Details register in a flash: an angry Aelia, her eyes glowing as she scolds Kieran; her hand gripping a still form on the ground; a figure with red hair, wearing a pink dress that’s soaked red at the chest, an upturned palm lined in red scrapes. And that smirk on Kieran’s face.

Rage courses through me, and I lunge at him with a growl. “What’ve you done?”

The prince shifts, leaving me grabbing for smoke. He appears at my side and points at Sage, saying with a sneer, “My, my, she has you keyed in like the dog you are, doesn’t she?”

But I’m too focused on all the blood, on Sage’s cut flesh, her glassy eyes. Dead? No, it can’t be. But she’s definitely fading. My gods . . .

I kneel at her side and gently pull her into my arms. Her head lolls against my shoulder. “Gods and bones . . . Sage . . . please hear me.” I shouldn’t have left her with Aelia. I never should’ve taken my eyes off her.

“Calm down,” Kieran says. “She’ll come back to us.”

Aelia stands in a rush. “And if she doesn’t, dumbass?”

“Then she’s not worthy of the title Daughter of Fire. Perhaps she’s been created from faulty blood, and I saved the Penta two weeks of unnecessary turmoil vying for her affection. Her energy was very odd; something isn’t right inside her. Isn’t it better to know now?”

I glare at him. “If she dies from your hand—”

“If she does, then she wasn’t a true daughter,” he says, his voice tight.

His sure words jar me. Fresh rage sparks in my gut. “I’ll tear your head from your shoulders for this, you bloody stuck-up shit.”

“Empty threats,” Kieran bites out. “You rejected your royal blood like a fool, and now you wish to come at me? To take on the role of protector to the second daughter of Brighid? But you believe I’m the prideful one.”

Aelia grips my arm. “Faelan, heal her. Come on!”

“He can’t,” Kieran says, a smirk relighting in his metallic eyes. “He gave up that right, didn’t you, bastard?”