Page 38 of The Vanishing Throne

Calf-eyed stare? Surely not.

Aithinne is gazing sadly in the direction her brother went. Despite everything I’ve gone through, I still feel as if I’m piecing together the long past of the fae, their relationships, their enemies. It’s such a vast, extensive history, so convoluted.

‘I think we should rest here,’ Aithinne says softly. ‘I find I’m not in the mood to continue our journey just yet.’

Before I can reply, she strides off into the fog.

After listening to Derrick tell me about the abandoned pixie kingdom, my eyelids begin to grow heavy. I eat the wild rabbit he caught and cooked for me, and settle next to the horses in the empty meadow. Derrick rests on my stomach, his wings fanning softly with the even movement of his breath.

It’s a myth that faeries don’t sleep. Every so often, Derrick would fall asleep like this, with his body curled up just below myribs. He looks so peaceful with his wings twitching, a soft smile playing on his face. I often wonder what he dreams about.

Aithinne has been gone for hours. Derrick suggested we wait and use the opportunity to rest before riding the full day tomorrow.

I pass the time by watching the sky overhead. I lie on the bundle of my coat, Derrick’s warmth around me like a fire, soft and soothing. I watch the stars peek through the thick clouds, brighter and more numerous than I have ever seen them. With no city lights here to dull their shine, they stretch vast, the sky reflecting the dimmed colours lingering from the sunset.

I scratch my fingernails over a mark at my forearm and let the memory of my mother’s voice wash over me. For the first time in so long, I can hear her vividly, without immediately thinking of her death.Can you name them, Aileana? Here now, repeat after me. Polaris. Gamma Cassiopeia. The Plough.

I remember her face. How delighted she was when I identified each constellation correctly. I picture the memory so vividly as I close my eyes. How she used to say,Aye, and this one?until I finished my recitations perfectly.

A shout echoes in the distance and I start, listening hard. There it is again –not a shout: a cry of pain. Derrick remains fast asleep on my stomach; when the fae sleep, they sleep heavily. Hardly anything wakes them.

I pick up Derrick carefully and set him down closer to the horses, grabbing my coat as I leave to find the source. The field is illuminated only by starlight. The high peaks of the mountains inthe distance are dark, clouded, and foreboding. The mist makes it difficult to see much as I make my way through the clearing in the direction of the sound.

I grip the hilt of the blade at my hip. If a faery comes at me quickly through the fog, I need to be ready.

The meadow is silent now, still but for the light breeze on the air. I hear another gasp, this one closer. I clutch the hilt tighter as I cross a stream, careful to keep my footsteps light, quiet. The element of surprise could be what saves my life.

But then I see a figure lying in the grass, the familiar dark hair and gleaming pale skin. I release my weapon and sigh in relief. It’s only Aithinne.

Just as I start to relax, I hear her groan as if she were in pain.

‘Aithinne?’ I step closer, coming to a halt just before I reach her.

‘Don’t,’ she says in a whisper that cuts me deep. ‘Don’t come near me.’

A memory strikes me before I can resist. Aithinne and me on the banks of the Water of Leith, her hands clenched into fists. Her blood dripping rapidly onto the rocks below.Drip drip drip drip.

Don’t. Don’t come near me.

Another ragged gasp from Aithinne snaps me from my memories. I reach for her. ‘Aithinne.’ I shake her shoulder.

She grabs my wrist and flips me. Suddenly, I’m on my back in the wet grass, the wind knocked out of me, and Aithinne is leaning over me. Her eyes are wide and unfocused.

‘Aithinne!’ I shout her name, but she seizes me by the throat.

Her hand tightens, squeezing hard. My sight is covered in bursts of stars as I struggle to draw in air. Desperately, I use what coordination I have to grasp myseilgflùrnecklace and press it to the skin of her wrist.

The hiss of her burning flesh lasts only for a moment beforeAithinne releases me with a startled yelp. ‘Falconer?’ Her face twists into a grimace. ‘You smell likehim.’

I roll in the grass to put some distance between us, pressing my cheek to the cold, wet earth. My vision is still clouded over and it hurts to swallow.

You smell likehim.

I’ll never get the scent of Lonnrach off me, his venom out of me. It wasn’t enough that he marked me. Now he’s in my blood, too. It doesn’t matter that I escaped, that I ran. I’m still not free of him.

At my stricken expression, Aithinne reaches for me. ‘Here, let me—’

‘No,’I tell her. My voice comes out in a croak. ‘No healing.’ I couldn’t handle it, not the pain. Not right now.

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