Page 30 of The Vanishing Throne

The truth is, memories weigh a great deal. Each one bends your bones a little more until the heft of them wears you down. Now I know that some scars go so deep that they never fade.

Chapter 12

Long after nightfall, we are far beyond the limits of the city. We walk through overgrown grass in fields that were once prosperous farmland. In winter, the land outside Edinburgh would always be bare, ready to be tilled before the growing season.

I remember how ravens would gather in the soil, all black flapping wings and sharp laughter. Now the rapeseed and weeds are so unkempt that they reach my hips. No animals rustle through the fields; it’s quiet around us but for the soft patter of rain.

I follow Aithinne’s steps carefully. The only lightin the field is from the moon peeking through the thick rain clouds overhead. Its halo burns through the clouds, tinged a rust red. I try not to think of how seeing it like that reminds me so much of the battle, of saying my goodbyes to those I loved.

I never thought I would be responsible for …this. All of this. Before the battle I tried not to think too much about what the human realm would be like if I lost. I always assumed I would never live to see a world taken over by the fae. That I would die before I let that happen.

You sacrificed my realm to save yours.

My chest tightens.Stop thinking about it, I tell myself.Keep going. One foot forward. Now the other.That’s how I hold it all back, every ounce of regret. One step and then another, over and over again.

Aithinne pauses for a moment, brushing her fingers along the tops of the weeds. She’s been so quiet since the river. She washed the blood off her hands and hasn’t spoken to me since. Now she has her head tilted as if she’s listening for something. It’s so dark I can’t make out her expression. She breathes deeply once, twice.

Her voice startles me. ‘Just up ahead.’

Before I can ask her anything, she’s starting forward again, her steps quick. I follow her, wading through the tall grass. There’s nothing in front of us but fog, so thick around us that the moisture presses against my skin, my face, dripping down my eyelashes. I can barely see more than a few steps in front of us.

Something is silhouetted in the fog, three figures in the dark – animals. Horses? Once I notice the light that emanates from them, I stop abruptly.

The faery horses are as beautiful now as they were the night the fae army rode into Edinburgh. They are alight from within, the metal that holds them together so soft and delicate it’s slightly transparent. Beneath it, glowing golden blood races through thick veins around mechanical pieces thattick tick tickgently inside. Ensconced within is a real horse’s heart that beats in a steady rhythm. The horses breathe together, thick smoke streaming from their nostrils and across the dark grass.

The night of the battle, my first instinct had been to pet one of these horses. To run my fingertips over the smooth surface and savor the metal so soft that it resembled fur. I wanted to make something so exquisite.

Now I just keep picturing Lonnrach astride his horse in the canyon, his eyes meeting mine.

Come back to me.

I want to shootseilgflùr-laced scrap metal throughthe fae horses so Lonnrach finds them dead. I want to leave a trail of fae in my wake, each one a message for him. This one is:I will kill you all.The second one is:Come find me.The one after that:I dare you.

I start forward, grasping the blunderbuss to draw it from its holster at my back. I’ll be quick. I’ll be merciful. Not likethem.

‘Falconer.’ Aithinne speaks so sharply that I stop dead in my tracks.

‘Aye?’ I try to keep my anger subdued, hidden deep again. I can’t think clearly through it. It’s what got me here in this desolate place to begin with.

‘Take your hand off the weapon,’ she says softly.

I’m about to do as she says – she’s earned that at least, if not my trust –when I see another figure in the fog. My mouth is suddenly assaulted with faery power and I act without thinking. The blunderbuss is in my hands, the stock pressed to my shoulder.

‘Wait,’ Aithinne says.

I’ve already pulled the trigger. The blunderbuss slams into my shoulder and the blast echoes across the field. Smoke curls in the air between us.

A familiar voice shouts, ‘Goddamn it!’

I lower the blunderbuss. ‘Kiaran?’

He strides through the smoke and fog until I can finally see him clearly – and my breath catches. His gaze is so intense that I can’t help but think of our kiss. Without my meaning to, my thumb brushes over the marks of that memory on the inside of my wrist. It’s a brief, vivid flash ofhis lips his hands his kissandyes more.

My cheeks are hot when he stalks right up to me, eyes narrowed. Pinched between his bloody fingers is a piece of scrap metal laced withseilgflùrfrom the blunderbuss – a shot that would have killed any other faery.

‘Really?’ he says.

‘You were traipsing around in a low-visibility field while enemy fae are afoot,’ I say defensively, hoping he can’t tell I’m blushing. ‘What iswrongwith you?’

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