Page 97 of My Faire Lady

It’s less of a question than a statement. My brows pull together, but I inch toward the boarding line, saying a quick prayer that I’m not seated next to him, trapped, for the seven hour flight.

“Have a good flight, Jeremy. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile and as I turn away, I catch him rub the heels of his hands against his eyes. I join the end of the line, and after the gate agent scans my ticket, I board the plane and sink into my seat near the back. Leaning against the window, I stare out at the tarmac as the sun slowly creeps toward the horizon.

I should try my best to sleep—beat the time change. But as the plane fills, a buzzing fills my chest, making it impossible for my body to settle. An elderly couple—not Jeremy, thankfully—takes the seats beside me, and I heave my bag into my lap, digging through the contents for my book.

A thick card slips out and flutters to the floor.

I chase after it, fanning my fingers out on the carpet. The corner presses into my thumb, and I lift it up as the flight attendant starts her safety demonstration.

It’s a postcard.

The edges are worn, split and aged from time. On the front, a pair of horses jut from the ground, one reared back, face to the sky. The Kelpies.

It must have fallen into my bag.

“Is this yours?” I say, waving it in front of the man beside me.

He shakes his head and shuts his eyes, leaning against the seat.

I furrow my brow and flip the card over in my hand, scanning the writing on the other side. But the words are so faded that it’s impossible to interpret. There’s only one line, at the bottom, that I can make out among the rest.

‘I’ve found my twin flame.’

A warmth spreads across my chest, as if it emanates from the card itself. It seems too important to pass to the flight attendant for the trash, or to conveniently forget it in the back pocket of the seat in front of me. I pull out my book and open it to the page I’m on, sliding the bookmark out and replacing it with the postcard.

The lights in the plane dim, and I watch out the window as we burst into the sky.

Next time my feet meet earth, I’ll be in Edinburgh.

35

My throat is sandpaper, burning hot and raw as I try to force a swallow. Every inhale is like shards of fiberglass shredding the lining of my lungs.

I blink my eyes open against the searing light. My vision swims, and someone gasps nearby.

“She’s awake!”

Footsteps echo through the space, each one matching the throbbing pulse against my forehead. My vision steadies, slowly coming into focus. I twist my head to the side, where Frankie sits, eyes rimmed with red.

I try to brace myself on my elbow, but my joint collapses and my head falls into the pillow.

“Don’t move,” Frankie says, pressing a gentle hand against my shoulder. “You used too much of your magic breaking the consecration. You died, Scarlet. It’s a miracle one of the fae was able to keep your heart beating this long.”

Died.

“Did it work?” I croak.

The words sting coming out, but I have to know the snap I felt inside myself wasn’t my imagination. That I actually freed the magic.

Gentle sunlight filters in through the sweeping window opposite Frankie, and the ceiling of my bedroom comes into view. Despite the pain sweeping over my bones, my chest clenches. The last time I woke up in this bed, I was holding Lottie.

“It worked,” Boden says, striding through the doorway. “Everyone felt the shift the moment your pulse stopped. And since then, some of the creatures have decided to stay here. The sprites, mostly. But many of them have returned to their original homes.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “How long was I…”