“For the love of the gods, what is this?” Nollaig asked in shock.
“You know what it is,” Reyna answered grimly.
Narrowing her eyes, she leaned over Tarrah’s shrieking face and pressed her open wound against her lips. Suddenly, Tarrah went deathly still. Reyna’s blood dripped into the shadow fae’s open mouth, and with it, the power of Seelie, she hoped.
After several silent seconds ticked by, Reyna pulled her arm back to her side and wrapped the wound with a torn scrap of her tunic. She would heal soon enough, but she did not wish to leave her blood in this place.
Tarrah remained still. Her vacant eyes stared up at the dense rainforest canopy. The only sign of life was the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
Lorcan frowned and sank back onto his heels. “She’s stopped fighting. Perhaps it worked.”
The steady hum of the forest rose up around them as they waited for Tarrah to wake from the slumber that had wrapped her in such a tight embrace. Lizards scuttled past on the blanket of moss, their scales flickering from green to brown to red. Crickets chirped, joining together in a song that warned of the impending darkness of the night. And all around them, birds began to sing. Those strange hidden creatures who knew the songs of the ice.
Nollaig let out a heavy sigh that spoke of relief. “It really has stopped. Your blood must be healing hers. She needs to rest for awhile, I’m sure. We should set up a camp and get a fire started. It will not be long until nightfall.”
Reyna’s heart thudded. She placed her palm against Tarrah’s cheek, trying to feel the power inside of her.
Suddenly, Tarrah’s eyes flipped open. Her body jerked with a force so strong that it knocked every last one of them aside. Reyna hit the ground, twisting just in time to see a terrible darkness stream out of Tarrah’s widened mouth. It looked like a writhing snake of shadows.
“What’s happening?” Nollaig desperately tried to grab Tarrah’s arm, but the shadow fae writhed out of her grasp, and then kicked her in the face.
“Fucking hell!” Nollaig stumbled back, pressing her palm against her hood. When she pulled her fingers away, they were drenched in blood.
“Tarrah.” Reyna grasped the shadow fae’s wrists, finally pinning her back onto the ground. Tarrah screamed, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Poison, it’s poison. Your blood is poison,” Tarrah gasped, teeth chattering. “Unseelie hates it.”
“Tarrah, can you ignore Unseelie for now? Focus on the Seelie power. Draw upon that. Find strength in it.”
With a shuddering sob, Tarrah whipped her head from left to right. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
“Try, Tarrah,” Reyna said fiercely, fear and worry twisting in her gut. “You need to find a way to fight against this.”
The tremors began to subside, and her breathing went shallow. Tears poured from Tarrah’s blood-streaked eyes. “It doesn’t work that way, Reyna. Only Unseelie can spread his power through blood.”
Reyna frowned. “Tell me how to give you Seelie power then. If it isn’t blood, it must be something else. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just tell me now.”
Tarrah sobbed. “It’s too late. He has me, and he’s never letting go. Just like he wouldn’t let go of my mother.” Her eyes slid shut, and she gasped. “I see everything so clearly now. He isn’t what I thought he was, and his goal is—” The shaking resumed, hurtling through Tarrah’s body with a violent force.
“Tarrah,” Reyna whispered, holding Tarrah’s trembling body in her arms. She hugged her close, trying to hold her still, but it was no use. “Tarrah, shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Unseelie was wrenching the life out of Tarrah. And there was nothing to be done.
“You were right,” Tarrah suddenly said with a gasp. “He is in my blood, and he is boiling it. Everything’s on fire. Reyna, help me. Please.”
Reyna wanted to shout at the gods. She had been given a great power, but there was little she could do to stop this horrible torment.
Tarrah stilled. Blood bubbled up from her mouth, spilling onto her chin.
“You’ve been tricked,” the shadow fae whispered with her dying breath.
43
Lorcan
They buried Tarrah’s body in Inishfall, not far from the pool that held the power that had claimed her life. It was a somber affair. They poured the fresh dirt over her broken body, silent but for the occasional sniffle from Nollaig’s cloak. Lorcan had a heavy heart. He’d felt nothing but disdain toward Tarrah when she’d first arrived at court. He’d thought her cruel and weak-willed. A fae with a twisted plan to ruin a dying kingdom.
In the end, he had been wrong about Tarrah. But he’d been right about the thing controlling her mind.
