Page 119 of The Vanishing Throne

I follow her gaze and see that the fae below have increased their speed. They’re tossing aside the muddy rubble, their handsand claws shoveling so fast they’re a blur. They’re uncovering something. They burrow farther, down and down and down, around an object – a dark pointed rock in the soil.

I catch my breath. It’s the crystal.

I hadn’t expected it to be so big. It’s a magnificent object that is like no gem I’ve ever seen. Even the most polished of diamonds would never match it in beauty. It gleams like the sea at midnight, even from this distance, with an unearthly internal fire. Thousands upon thousands of flames inside it flicker, glitter, and swirl around each other. They create a light that burns like a beacon.

‘It’s beautiful.’ It isn’t until I hear the words that I realise I’ve spoken aloud.

Sorcha’s eyes are ferocious, the anticipation making her fangs elongate until a single drop of blood emerges and snakes its way down her lower lip. She licks it up. ‘After all those stories,’ she murmurs, ‘wefoundit.’

She’s so entranced by the crystal that her hold on my throat slackens and eventually she draws her hand away. She doesn’t even look at me. Perhaps she thinks I can’t escape, or perhaps she’s simply too enthralled. Lonnrach is, too. The crystal is immense, now at least as tall as any of the tenements in Edinburgh, and the fae still haven’t reached the base.

Sorcha looks at me, still wearing that smug smile. ‘Andit was under the pixie kingdom this entire time.’

My mind flashes to the tapestries of Derrick, the battles and blood and death depicted across the walls.

One giant tapestry was older than the others. Derrick wasn’t in it. It showed the pixies gathered in battle. A looming figure in the background that I’d thought was a castle. Not a castle after all; it was the giant crystal. The fae were protecting it. And if they hid it, they must have had good reason.

I inch away from Sorcha, backing out of her line of sight as the spectacle below holds her attention. My hand slides to the weapon compartment in the coat Derrick made for me. I had hoped for a small blade, but there’s nothing.Confound it.

I glance between Lonnrach and Sorcha. They each have a sword, and Sorcha’s is hidden under her billowing long coat.

But Lonnrach’s isright there, within arm’s reach.

One step back. Two. Slowly, slowly. The two faeries don’t even notice. The deafening sounds of rock and metal grinding as the fae uncover the crystal muffles any crunch my boots make in the grass. I wait until the metal of amortair’s beak grinds against the rock, and I snatch Lonnrach’s sword from the sheath.

He lunges for me with a shout, but my sword hand is quick. I slash him across the torso. Blood blossoms along his crisp white shirt as he drops to his knees. I almost move in for a killing blow, but I stop myself.

He’s not mine to kill.

‘Falconer.’

Sorcha grabs my coat, but I slam my boot into her thigh. Her grip loosens and I race toward the digging fae, my feet slipping down into the crevasse, my ankle painfully taking my weight. I don’t stop, not even when I hear Sorcha’s warning shout from above.

The other fae turn to me, their uncanny eyes glowing, and they attack.

My power rushes inside of me in response. It is a brutal force that takes me over, ignites me. My stolen sword becomes an extension of me, burning with flame. I slice through the first redcap that comes at me with a hammer swinging, no effort at all.

The mechanical creatures are on their feet, and one leaps into the air right for me. I slash. Light bursts from my sword and tears through the metal so easily.

Then I hear a shout from above. Aithinne. ‘Destroy the crystal!’

Destroy it?

More fae attack before I can respond. I slice my sword through the air, plunging into another fae. Everything happens in a blur of movement. With my powers awakened, I am quicker, agile, strong. I’m suddenly aware of Kiaran and Aithinne fighting fae with me.

Their swords slash, their powers scorch through stone. I watch rock strip away and the earth crack open from the force of their blows. A violent storm surges above our heads, created by the fae to fight back. Water breaks from the suspended sea wall in a violent swell that knocks me off my feet.

The crystal. I have to get to the crystal. I whirl and slice through another fae. My movements are quick as I break for it again, my boots pounding across the uneven earth as I dodge attacks.

But before I can reach it, Sorcha is there, her sword out in a quick arc that nearly guts me. I dodge and parry. But she is agile, much faster than I am. I slash once, slicing her cheek open. Her fingers touch the injury and she looks surprised.

‘Something to remember me by,’ I tell her.

She flashes her teeth, licking the blood away,and leaps for me. I whirl, my movements defensive.

With every stroke of my sword, I remind myself that although I may not be able to kill Sorcha with my powers, this sword was forged with fae metal. Her body isn’t invulnerable the way Kiaran’s is. If I manage a killing blow, Kiaran will die with her through their bond.

I do the only thing I can do: I defend myself against her assault, my sword clanging against hers, releasing sparks of power. I slam it into her to shove her away.

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