Page 9 of The Vanishing Throne

Chapter 4

I’m beginning to forget my life more easily now. It’s beendaysweeksmonthsyears– I don’t know precisely – since I’ve seen anyone but Lonnrach. I can’t recall the things he’s stolen on my own any more.

To remember, I have to press my fingers a little harder into his teeth marks each time, until I leave half-moon marks of my ownover the scars of his bites on my skin. I have to shut my eyes so hard that I see stars beneath my lids.

It’s a rush of relief each time I manage to relive precious moments with all the people I care about. I can’t help how often Kiaran lingers in my thoughts, even though the sting of Lonnrach’s words is still there. It hasn’t even faded.

He let you think he cared about you. You’re not the first human pet he’s discarded.

I flinch and try to redirect my focus away from Kiaran. I need to forget about him. He left me behind. I’ve been in theSìth-bhrùththrough dozens of Lonnrach’s little sessions. Through hours and days or maybe weeks spent alone with my reflections. Through counting mirrors and leaves of ivy. I’m discarded. I’m—

‘Kam.’ Kiaran’s whisper of my nickname invades my thoughts. I almost shiver at how he says it. Like he loves the sound of it. Like it’s an intimate word, a promise.

I try again. Desperately, I pull up another image of my mother. Her smile, her laugh, the way she could always—

‘Kam.’ Kiaran’s voice, louder this time. More insistent.

‘Go away,’ I hiss. I press my fingers harder into the bites beneath the sleeve of my shift. My nails dig in.Focus. Remember.

His impatient Highland brogue tears through my concentration. ‘Goddamn it, open your eyes and look at me.’

What the …? My eyes fly open.Oh, lord.My imagination doesn’t do Kiaran justice. He’s standing over me, inky black hairlong enough to rest at the collar of his pale wool shirt. My memories never could quite capture the way light gives his skin a tawny glow, or the way his eyes are as bright and vivid as a lilac in bloom.

I can’t help it; my gaze lingers on his cheek, where the light shield had burned him so badly that I could see the bone beneath. All of his injuries have healed over with smooth, unblemished skin.

He can’t be real. I’m only imagining him. Not real. ‘You said you couldn’t enter theSìth-bhrùth,’ I say, certain now. Lonnrach must have created him just to torture me. He’s changing tactics. ‘Not without dying.’

With an impatient look, Kiaran holds out his hand. When I reach for him – entirely without thinking – my fingers pass through his skin. Theypass through. As if he was a bloody specter.

I snatch my hand back. ‘So Lonnrach did conjure you up. Well, it won’t work.’

He mutters acurse, so very Kiaran-like. Lonnrach is good at this.

‘I can project myself here without dying,’ Kiaran says, sounding somewhat irritated. ‘If I feel inclined to use an exhausting amount of power.’

I’m still suspicious. ‘Then why have you never visited before?’

‘Lonnrach put wards up that made it difficult to track you, and they take time to dismantle. My sister is still workingthrough the one that leads to this room.’ He gestures to himself. ‘She was able to lift it just enough for this form to pass through while she finishes. Satisfied?’

If I allow myself to believe him … no. I can’t. Lonnrach has been in my mind. I’ve taken his food. He can make me see whatever he wants. ‘No. I don’t believe you.’

‘Your stubbornness is commendable, truly,’ Kiaran says drily. ‘I’m grateful you still have it.’

‘See? That’s how I know you’re Lonnrach’s creation.’I wag my finger at him. ‘Kiaran always hated my stubbornness.’

‘Honestly, at the moment I’m having a hard time not mistaking it for stupidity.’

I glare at him. ‘As a figment of my imagination, I demand you stop insulting me.’ I pressmy fingernails into the grooves of the bite-marks again and shut my eyes. ‘And go away.’

He’s quiet for so long, I swear he must have gone. I refuse to open my eyes to find out.

‘Kam.’ This time when Kiaran says my name, I hear the hint of emotion there barely contained.

When I open my eyes, he’s staring down at me – no, not at me. At where my fingernails are embedded. The sleeve of my shift has slipped back to reveal the length of my forearm. I watch as he takes in my new scars, my scabbing marks, up to my neck where a dozen more are puckered and healed over. The latest one, justabove my collarbone, is still bleeding.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen his expression so cold and brutal. Not like this. Lonnrach could never have pulled that from my memories. This is really Kiaran.Kiaran.He didn’t abandon me. He’s hereforme.

Kiaran kneels by my side. This time when he reaches for me, his touch is solid. I’m startled by it. It’s beendaysweeksmonthsyearssince I’ve been touched by someone other than Lonnrach and I almost forgot how gentleness felt. I don’t pull away. Not even when he wraps his fingers around my wrist to draw my arm closer.

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