Page 55 of The Falconer

‘Like me?’ Gavin says. ‘I would never have been able to move as fast as they do. I can’t fight like that. You killed those things without—’ He sucks in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to sound accusatory.’

My anger fades. I grasp the hem of what remains of one of my petticoats and tear off a section to bind my injured hand. ‘I understand. You’ve been quite calm, all things considered,’ I say.

‘A mere façade,’ he says, waving a hand. ‘It wouldn’t be very manly if I screamed like a wee bairn, would it?’

‘Not very.’ We’re both silent again. I continue steering the ornithopter, higher above the mist, closer to the stars.

‘What happened?’ he asks.

He shared everything with me, told me what it means to be a Seer. I responded by changing the topic and keeping my secrets. I treated him the same way I do Kiaran, the same way I treat Catherine. What kind of woman does that make me, that I don’t trust anyone any more? Not even the people I love?

‘My mother,’ I say quickly, before I regret it or change my mind and lie again. ‘She was killed by a faery. That’s why.’That’s why I’m like this.

I hear his breath catch. ‘Not an animal attack, then.’

‘No.’ I try to stop the memories from resurfacing, to keep them in the empty space where they belong. ‘Not an animal attack.’

‘And now you enjoy killing them, don’t you?’ He says it so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

My cheeks burn. ‘Aye.’

I’m surprised by how ashamed I am of that admission. If this were Kiaran, that fact would have been a point of pride. But Gavin must be realising that his childhood friend has traded femininity for brutality. That the lass he knew is utterly gone.

‘You’re what the pixie called you – what was it?’

The word. The word that changed everything. ‘A Falconer.’

‘This doesn’t change anything, you know. I still care for you.’ He sounds hesitant now. ‘But you scare the hell out of me.’

Under normal circumstances, my chest might ache at his words. Gavin’s childhood friend was the very epitome of proper. She had no secrets, experienced all the appropriate emotions. She would have run from the faery when Gavin had asked her to. She would have relied on him to protect her.

My apathy ought to be an impenetrable thing, a wall that keeps me safe and protected. I shouldn’t care what he thinks. I want to pretend that he’s a silly boy who simply doesn’t understand me any more. Except he isn’t a silly boy. And this truth is as sharp and painful as any blade.

‘I don’t blame you,’ I say.

His gaze feels heavy in the darkness. ‘This is going to kill you. Hunting them.’

‘That may be,’ I admit, ‘but I can’t go back to what I was. Planning for parties and marriage – that’s not for me any more.’

Hunting is in my bones. The voice in my head that commands, the force that drives me. It is a part of me that will never leave, not until I die.

‘I don’t think,’ he says, ‘it’s for me, either.’

I almost tell himI’m sorry, like I did back in the gardens.I’m sorry for getting you involved. I’m sorry you feel like you need to protect me. I’m sorry you can’t go back, either. But I don’t. I’m about to try something light and cheerful when Gavin grips my hand.

‘Gavin?’

‘There’s something behind us.’

Chapter 20

I’m reminded immediately that I don’t have the thistle necklace on any more. Thank goodness for the spare bundles in the ornithopter. I pull out a fresh plaited strand and knot the end. When it’s secure around my neck, I look out behind us. My fingers dig into the leather seat and I gasp. Damnation.

Sluagh. A dozen of them.

The ghostly creatures sweep their enormous, graceful wings, mist gathering around them. They look almost dragon-like, with skin an iridescent, glimmering shade of pale grey, so thin that their angular, pointed skeletons are visible beneath. They’re more powerful than thecù sìth, though not physically strong. The skin covering their necks and wings is thin enough to cut through with a blade.

‘What are they?’ Gavin asks.

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