Page 106 of The Vanishing Throne

‘Don’t you ever feel cursed?’ I whisper against his scars.I do.

‘Every day,’ he says.

Kiaran turns to face me and I can’t help it – I press a kiss to his collarbone, my fingers trailing where the marks end just there.‘Let me see your vow to Sorcha,’ I say. Because that’s all I can say.Show me. We can compare our curses.You already know all about mine.

He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. The design across his pectoral is different from the others. It’s all harsh lines and jagged, thorny branches that split off in a web that begins right over his heart.

This one isn’t beautiful. This is a vow of obligation, tradition, not made out of love. I hate the way Sorcha has marked his body. I hate that he wears a promise to her simply because it wasexpected.

‘Now I understand,’ I whisper.

‘What?’

I meet his eyes. ‘What you said to me in Glasgow, when I accused you of wanting me to hide my scars. I look at this and I hate her even more.’

He threads his fingers through mine. ‘It’s my reminder, too.’

‘Of your vow to her?’

‘No, Kam,’ he says. He looks at my own scars, just at my shoulder. One, two, three bites. Fifteen memories. ‘My entire existence was planned before my birth. This mark represents the path I could have taken. It’s my reminder that I’d rather die on my own terms than live an eternity on someone else’s.’

Chapter 35

Tonight is Hogmanay, the last celebration before the New Year. It’ll soon be 1848, and despite spending all that time imprisoned, I still feel like itshouldbe the final weeks of 1844. All that time I missed, I can hardly believe it’s gone.

I force the thoughts from my mind and stand before the bedroom mirror in a gown Derrick made for me.Its deep, dark crimson makes my freckled skin look smoother. Sleeves cover the scars on my arms and the scooped neckline shows off the slope of my shoulders. The waist cinches in to an extreme curve before belling out in full skirts adorned with white lace.

Beneath the layers of petticoats and skirts, I wear boots and trousers out of habit. Despite that, I look about as trussed up as one of those bloody Christmas trees in the middle of Charlotte Square. Now I remember precisely why I detest these damn things.

‘I can’t breathe,’ I tell Derrick.

‘I made you a dress that can be torn away in case of emergencies and flipped into a coat, and you’re complaining about being able to breathe? How ungrateful!’ He flies up to my shoulder and wrinkles his nose. ‘Ugh!Uuuuugh! And you smell like thedaoine sìth. He’s left his scent all over you like piss on a tree.’

‘Derrick!’

He flies off my shoulder like he’s been chased by the hounds of hell, settling on my dirty coat instead. I imagine it smells a great deal like mud, sweat, andme.

‘Now I can’t even sit on your shoulder,’ he whines. ‘He’sruinedit. I can’tbelieveyou after everything the Cailleach told you.’

I glare at him and inspect the dress again. He’s even sewn hidden pockets in it for my weapons. I slip Aithinne’s sword in its specially made pocket, where it hangs heavily against my thigh – but you wouldn’t know it was therejust by looking at me. Good god, Derrick is brilliant, my breathing complaint aside.

‘You said you didn’t want me to hate him,’ I point out.

Derrick sulks, his wings fanning. ‘That wasbeforehe ruined your perfectly good shoulder seat with his vile smell.’

‘Very well.’ I wave him away from the coat and pick it up todrape the fabric over my shoulders for a moment. I try not to cringe at how it smells. What on earth did I rub up against on that beach? ‘There. Now I stink of sea creatures. Happy?’

Derrick flies up and sniffs me. He still doesn’t look terribly pleased even as he settles beneath my hair. ‘It’ll do. I suppose.’

I sigh. ‘Are you going to weave more power around the wards? We probably ought to leave tomorrow.’

‘Aye. I might have to do it a few more times before then to make sure it’ll hold.’ He flutters toward the door, then pauses with a grin. ‘Want to come with me?’ At my expression, he says, ‘You died, you were brought back, and you aren’t the least bit curious to see what other gifts came with the Sight?’

‘Of course I am.’

After that metal flower I created, I want to test the limits of my power. I want to see what I can do to Lonnrach when I see him again.

I peer at myself in the mirror, expecting to look just a wee bit different. Perhaps more faelike. I do, after all, have the blood of the Seelie queen in me. Alas, I’m the same freckled ginger I was yesterday and not even a hint more shiny.

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