Page 18 of The Vanishing Throne

Chapter 8

Aithinne mutters something foul. ‘We’ll have to use the trail.’ She gestures with a nod. ‘It’s a passage that juts out just below the top of the crag. As long as they stay up here, they won’t see us.’

I study the path she indicates and my stomach clenches. The cliff down to the river below is layered with perilous bends and twists in the rock that end in a steep drop right to the bottom. Like something out of the mountainous paths in the Cairngorms. They’re majestic to look at, but there’s a reason some say those blasted things are haunted, and it’s because every year some explorer goes out and doesn’t return.

If we fall,shewould survive the impact. I would – in the words of Aithinne – gosplat.

I immediately take a step back. ‘Oh? We can’t just—’

‘No,’ Aithinne says shortly, in a very Kiaran-like voice.

I bite back a curse and follow her across the meadow. We continue down to where the narrow ridge extends just below the cliff edge and out of the riders’ view. The rocks there arerough as scoria, and coloured a red so deep they’re almost black. They smell of ash, as if a fire had been lit recently. From here, there’s nothing directly below us – it’s a long drop all the way to the bottom, straight down.

Unable to stop myself, I step closer to the edge and peek over. I wish to hell I hadn’t. My head spins as if I’m whirling and nausea cramps my stomach.

I’m certainly not one to fear heights, but even I’m not mad enough to flee from the fae this high up. The trail is barely wide enough for my feet; it’s only a small lip of rock that could break off and tumble to the bottom at any moment.

I scan the path for any branches to hold on to in case of a fall. None.

The pounding of hooves through the trees grows closer. They’re almost to the meadow. If we don’t go now, they’ll see me and I’ll be put back in the mirrored prison.

Lonnrach will steal my memories again. He’ll punish me for escaping, and this time it might be worse. I won’t go back to that. I might not have this chance again.

When Aithinne starts down the trail ahead of me, I don’t hesitate. I take the first steps down the rocky path. I mentally recite my encouragement, my mantra.Almost there. Almost there almost there.Almost safe. Almost home. Almost free ofhim. Each step isalmost almost almost.

When I hear the fae enter the field above our heads, I try to keep my steps as quiet as Aithinne’s. The rocks are too unstable. My slippers have barely any grip on them at all.

Halfway across the path, my feet slip and I slide with a scrape over the rocks. I open my mouth to scream, but Aithinne smacks a hand over my mouth and hauls me to safety. She pushes us up against the rough crag, a finger to her lips. Then she releases me and gestures upward. The riders are on the ridge right above us.

‘You said you tracked them this way?’ I hear Lonnrach say.

My pulse quickens. I picture him in the mirrored room, teeth at my wrist.This is really going to hurt.It hurt every time.

Almost there.I return to my desperate chant, a reassurance that Kiaran will be there once I escape.I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.

Almost there.

I’m so distracted by my own thoughts that when I finally look over at Aithinne, I’m startled to find that she’s gone entirely still. Her eyes are wide and panicked. When I move to touch her fingers, they’re ice-cold.

‘They went through the forest,’ another voice says, one I don’t recognise. ‘There are two energy trails here. She had help.’

One horse is so close to the edge that a hoof knocks off small bits of dirt and rock to rain on our feet. Aithinne doesn’t appear to notice. Her breathing grows more unsteady, gasping. Loud.

Above us, the horse shuffles closer to the edge. The fae are silent – too hushed and still. Dawning horror makes me grow cold. They’relisteningfor us. Aithinne’s breathing has turned heavy, a roar in the quiet.

I press my palm to her lips to quiet her down, and she doesn’t react. Hergaze is unseeing, distant now. She’s lost in a memory.

‘It’s Aithinne,’ Lonnrach says, his voice tight. ‘She’s with the Falconer.’

Aithinne gasps against my palm, her eyes squeezing shut.

‘It can’t be,’ the other faery says. ‘She couldn’t have come through without our sensing—’

‘Oh, she could,’ Lonnrach says. ‘But with limited power, she’d need the right conditions. She’ll be looking for a way to escape.’

Aithinne is wheezing against my palm, her lips moving. I edge closer. I can hear what she’s saying through my fingers, her lips forming words against my skin. Three of them. Three words like icy fingertips down my spine. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’

‘Shh.’ I try to make my breath sound like the air. I don’t know how to comfort her or to get her back, not without speaking. If I touch her further, she might respond badly.

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