Page 13 of The Vanishing Throne

A high, thin whine sounds from somewhere nearby, like sharp nails scraping against metal. It echoes through the forest from no discernible source. My hand drops to my waist – where I would normally keep a weapon – and I get a fistful of air.Of course there’s nothing there; Lonnrach made sure of it.‘What the devil was that?’

‘Mara.’ Aithinne keeps her voice low, barely above a whisper. ‘I believe your kind call them demons.’

Somewhere in the dark woods, teeth click together in a hard bite, followed by a soft whine. Muttering a swear, I edge closer to Aithinne when I’m startled by a sudden burst of illumination. A ball of light at least the size of my fistappears between her cupped hands. It swirls and glows brighter until it stings my eyes to look at directly. She tosses it into the air and it explodes above us, casting flickering stars across the sky above the trees.

The shadows flee. They actuallyflee, leaping behind trees to hide from the light. Although it’s not bright enough to illuminate their bodies, I can see that their fur gleams lustrous and thick. Farther into the forest, huge, shadowed bodies hunch among the sharp branches. A thousand pairs of eyes watch us from the darkness.

The shadows in there are living creatures. Do you understand?

Now I do – all too well. I never encountered another faery in all my time in theSìth-bhrùth, not even a glimpse when I first arrived. At times I wondered whether it was empty except for Lonnrach and me. Whether he did that deliberately so I was more isolated.

It seems some creatures have been here all along, gathered away from the crevasse. These faeries are wild. Their stares are unsettling, intense, and ravenous. I swear I can hear them licking their teeth, jaws clicking in hunger.

I stay close to Aithinne as we hurry through the trees. Our pace is slowed by the bladelike branches pointing out in all directions, only just visible in the dim light. As the last orb fades, Aithinne readies another ball of light.

A growl to my left is close. Though I’ve managed through sheer force of will to overcome the dizziness left by Lonnrach’s venom, I don’t have a blade to defend myself from themara.

‘I don’t suppose you have another weapon?’ I say in a low voice, skirting around a long branch. I can’t help it; I test the end of the branch and my skin gives as though I’d pricked it on the edge of a knife. My finger comes away with blood.

Well. That proves my theory that the trees really could kill me.

Aithinne pauses. Her grin is slow, devious. She pushes open her coat andI realise she wears two belts, one for each blade. She unbuckles one and passes it to me. ‘I always come prepared.’

I’m starting to like Kiaran’s sister.

She hands me a raploch pouch from her pocket. ‘And this, in case of emergencies.’

Seilgflùr. All right, Ireallylike Kiaran’s sister.

I pick out a few heads of thistle and twist them to knot around my neck, leaving the remainder in the pouch fastened at my wrist. Not only is the thistle deadly enough to fae that it burns right through their skin, but it gives me the ability to see them at all times. Without it, if themara– or even Aithinne – willed it, they could disappear from my human vision and I’d never even know they were there at all.

Once my necklace is secured, I push my tangled hair out of my face to see where the sword belt buckles, pulling the strap tightly around my hips.

Aithinne smiles. ‘You know,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘your hair rather looks like an octopus.’ Then, as if to reassure me: ‘I love octopi.’

And Aithinne is obviously a bit barmy, but nobody’s perfect.

She readies another ball of light for us to move forward. Though we continue quickly through the trees, I’m beginning to wonder whether this forest has an end. No light is visible from the other side, only a ceaseless number of trees.

A bray from somewhere behind us makes me jump. My fingers close around the hilt of the sword. ‘I assume they see us as … a meal?’I can’t think of a way to word it more delicately.Bloody hell, these faeries want to dine on me.

‘No, no,’ Aithinne says. ‘They’re here to eat you, not me. I don’t think I’d taste very good to them.’

‘Comforting,’ I say drily. ‘Very comforting.’

I might have a blade, but I doubt I’d be terribly effective in a fight. It’s been too long since my training; my body is slighter than it was when I battled last. But I can run. At least I can run.

‘Don’t worry,’ Aithinne says. She casts up more light. ‘They’ll keep to the shadows.’

‘Are they Unseelie, then?’

Human books about the fae always split them between two kingdoms: light and dark. Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie are considered the not-so-bad faeries. They’re described as seductively beautiful and are said to ride on gleaming horses. The Unseelie, on the other hand, are creatures of shadow. They’re described as cold and brutal to any human unfortunate enough to meet them. They’re rumoured toenslave and eventually kill anyone they steal from the outside world, while the Seelie – considering themselves better – return humans to their home realm, even centuries after they’re taken.

Such is the supposedmercyof the immortals. Bastards, all of them.

‘Themarawere devoted to our former monarch,’ Aithinne says. ‘Not the courts.’

Though we continue at a brisk pace, Aithinne’s feet never make a sound as she strides beside me. I am clumsy in comparison, my slippers crunching through the gemstone soil.

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