Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Lorcan,” Niamh warned.
“We can do it,” Kierse said.
Gen and Ethan, flush with her magic, nodded.
“Fine. Let me just take a restroom break.” Niamh disappeared to get herself back together.
Lorcan took over. He had them run the magic between them like they were throwing a ball across the circle. Back and forth and around and around. Sometimes it was more magic, and sometimes less. They worked until even Kierse was feeling the fatigue of it all.
Then he moved into transferring powers from the other person.
When Niamh returned and saw them fumbling through it, her eyes widened. “They’re not ready for that.”
“Under dire conditions, they need to be able to take power to use for themselves,” Lorcan said. “They need to know how to do it.”
“Next time,” Niamh insisted.
But Ethan was already reaching with his tiny tendril of energy toward Kierse, like a good little soldier. Kierse was so open that she hadn’t even planned for what that would feel like. An invasion of her powers. The snap came so quickly, with their link wide open, that she couldn’t stop him from taking and taking and taking.
“Ethan!” Gen cried.
“Ethan, stop,” Lorcan commanded.
But it was Niamh who physically tackled him to the floor, throwing him out of the circle and breaking the link.
Kierse wavered unsteadily on her feet. Her magic empty. Her absorption off. Her vision blurry.
They needed to link. Ethan needed to put it back. He hadn’t…meant to go that far.
“Kierse,” Lorcan said, his hands gripping her shoulders, ducking so that he was looking into her face. Only his arms were holding her up. “Are you okay?”
“Sure,” she whispered.
He released her tentatively, and the force of having to hold herself up sent her toppling forward. Lorcan caught her again, lifting her up in a wedding carry. She could smell his magic—spring rain and summer sunshine—envelope her as she disappeared into oblivion.
Interlude
“Well?” Lorcan demanded.
Niamh felt Kierse’s wavering pulse and sighed. “She’ll be fine. She’s just at magic burn. She didn’t burn out, but she’s drained.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
“No,” Niamh said. “I’ve done what I can. She needs rest to recuperate. She’ll need to focus on building her magic stores back up.”
Lorcan looked half ready to pull out his hair. Like he might go back downstairs and throttle one of his own Druids for doing this to Kierse. Even though Ethan hadn’t done it on purpose and he’d done it on Lorcan’s orders. That had to be the worst of it.
There was always a risk when linking powers. This was what she had been trying to avoid. When they were all low and exhausted, those risks became reality.
Now here Kierse was, in Lorcan’s bed like sleeping beauty. Niamh didn’t know how long she would be out, which was an even bigger concern.
“We’re going to have to tell Graves,” Niamh said.
Lorcan snarled. “He can fucking deal.”
“You know he won’t.”
“She is perfectly safe with me.”
“This is Graves we’re talking about,” Niamh said. “You two and all your bullshit. He’s going to blow your stupid truce and barge into Brooklyn and take her from you. Is that what you want?”
“Let him try,” he snapped.
Niamh didn’t want that. Not for Kierse or Lorcan or the Druids. She would like to avoid an international incident if at all possible.
“I’m going to have Gen call him,” Niamh said. “Okay?”
“Do what you think is best. But if he tries to take her when she’s like this, I’ll kill him,” Lorcan said, his eyes still on Kierse.
Niamh touched his arm. “She’s not Saoirse. You know that, right?”
Lorcan looked like he’d been slapped. “Of course I know that.”
“Okay,” Niamh said, dubious.
She headed to the door and left him sitting at Kierse’s bedside. Sometimes she hated Lorcan for acting as if he were the only one impacted by Saoirse’s death. As if Niamh hadn’t loved her first.
They had been neighbors in their small village on the western coast of Ireland. Back when Niamh had still been figuring out that the world might see her as a boy, but she had always known that she was a little girl. She had played house with Saoirse instead of fighting with her older brothers. Eventually, her mom had stopped giving her britches and started to make little dresses for her. She’d gone through a handful of names over the years since her birth name never fit quite right. It wasn’t until she met Oisín that she realized that the name she had been looking for all along had been Niamh.
And Niamh she had always been.
In those early days in Dublin, Niamh and Saoirse had been inseparable, and what Niamh had thought was simply unrequited pining had finally blown over into something…more. When Lorcan had shown interest in Saoirse and declared their soulmate bond, she had cried herself to sleep in Niamh’s arms. She’d asked her to run away. Niamh still sometimes regretted not doing it.