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Prologue

A ll of us have our little probleh school when I used to feel insecure about sohts: I’m pretty, and my parents love

Since then I’ve come to understand how little the former matters, and how bitterly the latter can be tested What’s left then? Nothing about our appearance or who loves or hates us Nothing about our brainpohich, like beauty, is an unearned gift of genetics—nor even anything about e say

It’s our actions that define us What we choose What we resist What we’re willing to die for

My name is MacKayla Lane I think Some say my last naht noho I ah, at theenough

I’ia I think Lately I’ve realized I have soh

I’m in Ireland When my sister, Alina, was found dead in a trash-filled alley on Dublin’s north side, the local police closed her case in record ti justice

Okay, so maybe I’m not that pure

What I really ca I’ve seen, I want it twice as bad

I used to think et married in a few years, have babies, and settle down to a life of sipping sweet tea on a porch swing under the shade of waxy-blossoether near Mom and Dad and each other

Then I discovered Alina and I descend not froood, wholesome southern stock but from an ancient Celtic bloodline of powerful sidhe-seers, people who can see the Fae, a terrifying race of otherworldly beings that have lived secretly a us for thousands of years, cloaked in illusions and lies Governed loosely by a queen, and even nore, they have preyed on humans for millennia

Supposedly I’m one of the most powerful sidhe-seers ever born Not only can I see the Fae, I can sense their sacred relics that hold the deadliest and ic