Page 97 of The Falconer

Catherine reaches forward and pats my wrist. ‘I’m sure she would appreciate that very much and I’m pleased to hear your health has improved.’

God, sometimes I hate that Catherine trusts me so implicitly. I’m a liar, a deceiver, and my friend doesn’t realise it.

When I attempt to speak about something inane, like the wedding, nothing comes out. I’m asphyxiating on my lies, breaking under the pressure of this burden I’ve been forced to bear. If I fail to reactivate the seal, Catherine will die. This might be my last chance to save her.

Impulsively, I seize her hands, ignoring her alarm. ‘I’m ready for you to ask me.’

Catherine tries unsuccessfully to extricate herself from my grasp. ‘Ask you what?’ She must see the desperation in my face, because fear and concern are reflected in hers. ‘If there’s something the matter—’

‘You always wonder where I disappear to during assemblies,’ I say. ‘Do you really want to know?’

Catherine goes still. She looks at me as though she’s waiting for me to reveal that I’m jesting. When I don’t, she leans forward and takes a deep breath, pressing her hands into mine the way we did when we were children telling secrets. ‘Yes.’

Derrick tugs on my ear. ‘Aileana, I don’t think this is a—’

‘Show yourself,’ I say to him.

Catherine frowns. ‘What?’

‘Are you quite sure about this?’ Derrick asks me.

‘I am.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the halo around him fade. He’s fully visible, wee clothes and mischievous smile and all. Today’s trousers appear to have been made from one of my soft green day dresses. His delicate wings fan softly behind him, tickling my ear.

Catherine gasps. Her eyes go wide and she jumps to her feet, dress rustling, all decorum forgotten. ‘Faery,’ she whispers.

‘Now, that’s just insulting,’ Derrick says. ‘I’m apixie, you silly human.’

Catherine gapes at him. And then at me. And then at him. ‘I-I think I need to stand,’ she says faintly.

‘Youarestanding,’ I say with a smile.

‘Indeed. Sit. Sit is what I meant.’ She collapses onto the settee, her skirts and petticoats puffing up inelegantly all around her. ‘Aileana,’ she finally says, never taking her eyes off Derrick. ‘Might I be candid again?’

‘I’d prefer if you were.’

Catherine’s hands flutter in front of her in distressed motions before she finally presses them to her chest to keep them still. ‘I think I’m about to cast my accounts onto your carpet.’

‘No, no,’ I say. ‘Let me call MacNab, he can bring us . . . something. A bucket.’

‘I may also faint.’ Her chest heaves. ‘Are you friendly, then?’ she asks Derrick. ‘Because I heard stories when Aileana and I were children.’

‘I can assure you,’ Derrick says with a sly grin, ‘I’mquitefriendly to lovely ladies like yourself.’

‘Good heavens,’ she whispers.

‘Catherine,’ I say. ‘There’s something else I must tell you.’

‘Something more?’ She laughs breathlessly. ‘We might have to limit your life-altering revelations to one a day, you know.’

I smile briefly, almost apologetically. Catherine is taking this much better than I would have under the same circumstances. At least the first faery she’ll remember is Derrick and not Kiaran. I don’t imagine she would be so calm if she learned she’d been faestruck by him already and tried to paw his shirt off.

‘I’m revealing Derrick to you now because I need to ask you to leave.’

Catherine’s eyes widen. ‘But I’ve only just arrived.’

‘No. I need you to leave the city,’ I say, trying to sound as calm as possible. ‘Something awful might happen very soon, and if it does, I want you to be somewhere safe.’

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