Gathering as much strength as he could, Cathal got to his feet and faced the group of Fae. The few remaining manor guards were still fighting others and had no idea what was going on. If one of them had to die, it would be him. Aisling was closer to Sorcha and could get her out.
He didn’t look to the manor, even though he wanted one last look at his Halfling. She had been a bright light in his life, one he had briefly basked in. If she had brought him such joy in just a few days, he could only imagine how things would’ve been had they had decades together.
But that wasn’t to be. He’d done unspeakable wrongs, and while Death had given him a second chance, in the end, he had to pay the price for the lives he’d taken. There must always be a balance, and his time had come.
With the image of Sorcha smiling up at him after they’d made love in his mind, he dropped his veil. The leader of the group—the same Fae who had tried to convince Sorcha that he was her father—smiled as he formed an orb of magic.
Chapter Twenty-One
“No!” Sorcha shouted when she saw Cathal lower his veil.
No one heard her because of the sounds of battle. Her stomach dropped to her feet when she spotted the group of five Fae headed straight for Cathal. She scanned the area, hoping to see Aisling or at least some sign of her. But there was nothing.
Sorcha knew she didn’t stand a chance against the Fae. She also knew that Cathal and Aisling had done everything to keep her protected. Yet she couldn’t stand there and watch either of them die. For all she knew, Aisling might already be dead.
The attackers’ numbers were dwindling, but then again, so were the manor guards’. She wasn’t sure who would win. All of this was happening because of her. Fae were dying—because of her. She wouldn’t allow Cathal’s life to be taken.
She took a deep breath and moved from her hiding spot to the doorway. Then she walked out of the house.
“Sorcha!”
She looked to the side where she’d heard Aisling’s voice. The Dark must be veiled, not that she blamed Aisling at all. “It’s fine.”
“Get back in the house.”
Sorcha ignored the disembodied voice and kept walking. She hoped to catch everyone’s attention to give Cathal and Aisling time to get away. But that’s not what happened. The Fae headed toward Cathal and didn’t take their eyes off him. She walked faster, heading straight for the Dark. Surely, someone would notice her.
When the clear leader of the group formed an orb of magic between his hands, Sorcha began running. If only she could teleport, but she didn’t have that ability. She watched with a mixture of distress and terror as all five Fae shot balls of power at Cathal.
Move out of the way! She screamed in her mind. But Cathal remained where he was.
Right before the magic slammed into him, he was jerked out of the way. Sorcha knew Aisling had intervened. She’d have to thank the Dark female later. Right now, she was more concerned with making sure Cathal got away before he was killed.
To her surprise, the five Fae began hurling orb after orb at and around Cathal. Sorcha realized they were trying to get whoever had helped him. Despite Aisling’s attempt, Sorcha could tell that the female was being pummeled with magic and unable to get away. So was Cathal. It was the last straw for her.
Sorcha halted about ten meters from the group, who were so focused on Cathal and Aisling that they had no idea there was someone about to unleash ten years of anger on them. She planted her feet and let her magic swamp her.
For the first time, she felt a difference in her power. She could actually discern what was Fae and what was Druid. And when they mixed, it was a heady, intoxicating feeling that made her lightheaded. The more she accepted the magic, the stronger it became until her entire body hummed with it.
It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Whether it was because it had been a decade since she’d called to it, or because she now knew about her Fae blood, there was something distinctly different about the magic now. And she liked it. A lot.
The force of the power was so intense that it felt as if she were doing everything she could to keep her feet on the ground. She wanted to control the magic, but she was running out of time. Cathal was covered in blood and burns from the orbs that kept slamming into his body. He fought to get up, and she saw his lips moving. No doubt, he urged Aisling to do the same.
The two most powerful Fae she knew had been brought low. Because of her. That made her sick to her stomach. Her gaze swung to the five Fae who stood with smiles on their faces as they rained their deadly magic down on her friends.
A calm descended over Sorcha, pushing aside her wrath and trepidation. It was almost as if she’d detached from herself. Like she was staring at the scene, looking at herself in the third person. She didn’t question any of it as she raised her hands before her. With a battle cry that would make any Skye Druid proud, she threw her magic at the five Fae.
Shock reverberated through her when they went flying like bowling pins. As the two nearest her landed, unmoving, she saw that her magic had torn a hole through their centers. The other three fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
She advanced on them. She had never felt such hatred before. Sorcha halted next to the first one she reached and looked down at the female who was now missing an arm. The Light had fear in her eyes as she silently pleaded with Sorcha.
“You wanted to kill my friends,” she told the Light. “Why should I show you any mercy?”
“Please,” the woman said, her voice filled with agony.
Sorcha lifted her hand, ready to end the Fae, when someone gently took hold of her arm and turned her. She found herself staring into crimson eyes she knew well. Relief swept through her to find Cathal on his feet. She could tell that he was still in pain, but he was alive and standing before her.
He said nothing as he cupped her cheeks in his hands and searched her face. She didn’t know what it was that he looked for, and it didn’t matter. She smiled up at him, happier than she ever imagined. Yet, as each second passed, she began to fully comprehend what it was that she had within her grasp. The more she thought about Cathal leaving and never coming back, the more she knew that she would never forgive herself if she didn’t tell him how she felt.
Just as her lips parted, a shout came from Aisling. Sorcha and Cathal turned their heads toward the female to find the leader of the Fae group and one other teleporting away. When Sorcha looked down at the Fae she’d been about to kill, she saw that the Light had died.
“You could’ve been killed,” Cathal said. “Why didn’t you stay in the manor?”
Sorcha cocked her head at him. “I left because I couldn’t let you or Aisling die.”
“But,” he began.
Whatever he had been about to say faded as Aisling collapsed. They rushed to the Dark. Sorcha winced as she noted the wounds covering Aisling’s body. Then she looked at Cathal and saw that his were even worse. Sorcha had no idea how Cathal was still standing.
He checked Aisling’s pulse and then lifted her into his arms. As he stood, his gaze found Sorcha’s. “I’ve got to get Aisling help.”
“Of course,” she urged.
But if she’d thought he might take her with him, she was wrong. Sorcha found herself standing alone with only a handful of manor guards still standing. She swallowed and turned around to retrace her steps to the house. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she return to Scotland? Stay here?