Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(59)

He had no care for her family. And if he had no care for them, then he didn’t care what happened to her.

It shouldn’t sting as much as it did. She barely knew the man, although he had become a regular figure in her thoughts. She’d even given him a name.

Foolish, she berated herself. Childish. Friendship with him was wishful thinking.

She hurtled down the steps, pushing through the kitchens without pause. Pixie shouted behind her. Stopping would only result in more anger, and Sorcha couldn’t deal with any more.

A storm cloud brewed on the edge of the isle. It barreled towards her as she sprinted directly into its electric power. Storms didn’t bother her, not when she knew shelter was so close.

The sweet scent of peat filled her lungs. Bleating sheep scattered as she charged through their midst. The tie in her hair loosened in the breeze, flying free to let her hair stream back in a banner of bright red.

Her lungs ached, but she did not slow. She wouldn’t stop until she could slam the hut’s door behind her. The crash might stop her whirling thoughts.

A tear slid down her cheek. How dare it? She dashed it away with an angry slap, leaving a mark of red against her freckled jaw. Then another slid free, this time hitting her face so painfully that she realized it wasn’t tears at all.

It was rain.

The clouds unleashed their fury. Rain pounded the ground and echoed in her ears. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning cracked far off in the ocean, a bolt zig zagging from the sky and into the water.

She squinted and kept running. Her mother’s dress would be ruined, and it was another thing she could blame on him. Yet another ruined thing she loved that he stripped from her arms.

How love starved was she that she would trust such a monster?

The raging storm echoed the tumultuous emotions beating at her breast. He had no right. He had no right!

She lost her way in the sheets of rain. The hag’s hut was barely visible below the small cliff she stood upon, but she would not let that deter her. The rocks were slippery and dangerous. She skidded down, sliding her hands into cracks and crevices, gripping with strong fingers. A small, romantic part of her whispered that this might be what it felt like to touch the geodes of his skin.

She grunted and yanked a stone from the ground. It tumbled down the small cliff side and splashed into the foaming waves. Good riddance. She shouldn’t be wondering what he might feel like. She shouldn’t be wondering anything about him at all!

Sorcha would leave this isle empty handed and find another way to save her family. There had to be more she could bargain. She could promise her life to Macha just to get away from this place.

From him.

Lightning cracked and struck the ground above her head. Sorcha flinched, glancing up to see the bolt strike a tree hanging onto the edge of the small cliff. Blinded, she hugged herself close to the rock and whispered a silent prayer.

The tree screamed. Sizzling electricity raced through her, standing her damp hair on end until it passed. Then she heard it. The creaking groan, the snapping cracks of roots being pulled from the earth, and the rumbling of stone.

She looked up although she already knew what she would see. The aged tree released its precarious hold on the cliff and plunged towards her.

Sorcha tucked her body closer to the stones, wedging her side into the cliff, and shredding the delicate skin of her stomach. The roots slid past, the trunk smashed against the stones but did not touch her.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and then a wayward branch passed by her makeshift shelter. She lifted her head at the wrong moment and shrieked as a flame red strand of hair wrapped around the slick wood.

It yanked her backwards, tossing her into the deep mire where ocean met bog. Sorcha hit the water with a loud slap. Her back burned, and her mind screamed she hadn’t gotten a deep breath. She hadn’t inhaled before striking the water.

Bubbles obscured her vision. Air twisted, leaving the tree which dragged her further and further down. She reached her hands for the surface, dark waters swallowing her whole.

The tree hit the muck with a muffled thump. Billowing mud floated up like smoke, and Sorcha watched with horror as her limited view of the surface disappeared. She twisted, chest aching, and grasped onto the tangled bit of hair.

She tugged, but there was too much for her to yank free. Her fingers felt along the strand until she touched the tree branch. Something slithered through her grasp.

Sorcha flinched backwards in fear, stopped by a yank against the back of her skull which twisted her around. The foggy water was too dark for her to make out more than vague shapes.

But which way was up?

Her heart thudded painfully. She didn’t remember which way was up. The branch was attached to her so certainly directly above it would be up? But the tree angled down… Didn't it?

She tugged on her hair again, frantically placing her feet against the branch and pulling hard. She felt more than heard the ripping, but it wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t how she wanted to die. People didn’t often swim in Ui Neill; they were too far away from the selkies to have that bloodline in their midst.

She wanted to die on rolling green hills or in the middle of a field of heather. Why did it have to end like this?

I love you, she thought. I love you so much, Papa and all my sisters. I wish it could have been different.

Black spots blurred the edges of her vision. At some point, she would have to suck in a deep breath. She would breathe and that would be the end.