Page 92 of The Vanishing Throne

Without a monarch, the Sìth-bhrùth will wither. Someone must take her place.

And you think you’re worthy.

No, but I will be.

Something must show on my face, because the Cailleach says, ‘Now you see why I can’t let you live.’ She turns away from me, away from the bonfire, and begins down the road again, her frail body so thin beneath the shadows. ‘Come,mo nighean. I have one last thing to show you.’

Chapter 31

We are in theSìth-bhrùth, at the loch Kiaran once brought me to. Where I first saw Sorcha and tried to kill her. The place looks so different than when I saw it last; lush, fertile. It’s still night-time here, the stars above moving in intricate patternsof swirls and streaks of light across the sky. The trees – so high around us – are full of leaves a vivid green; when I saw them last, they had been skeletal, dead. I look closely and see the colours in the bark, the blues and greens and reds like an opalescent gemstone.

A figure flickers at the corner of my eye. Aithinne. She walks across the water, and it’s as though she wanders through space, between the expanse of stars. She looks even morehuman than she did when we left the bonfire. More like the Aithinne I know.

She glances around, as if she’s waiting for someone. A meeting? Kiaran once told me that this place was considered neutral ground, the only location where the Seelie and Unseelie could meet without conflict.

When Aithinne reaches the rocks along the banks of the loch, she stares straight ahead, and I realise there’s someone in the trees, a shadowed figure.

‘You sent for me, Kadamach,’ she says softly. I note the hesitancy in her voice, the uncertainty. I wonder how long it’s been since they’ve spoken. ‘Let me see you.’

I suck in a sharp breathas Kiaran slips out of the trees, tall and beautiful, dressed all in black. His dark hair is pulled back from his face, his skin immaculate and glowing. His eyes – they’re not like his at all.

Not Kiaran.Kadamach.

I thought I’d seen glimpses of Kadamach before, when Kiaran’s gaze would simply become empty. Brutally so, as if he had buried all those new emotions because things hurt less if you don’t feel.

Kadamach isn’t like that. His eyes aren’t just empty; they’re desolate and dark, like a cold bite of winter wind that strips away every ounce of warmth from your body. There’s nothing there.Nothing.

I almost tell the Cailleach to take us out of there. I don’t want to see whatever revelation this is, another awful truth that will eat away at me from the inside. Now I know why Kiaran and Aithinne left their pasts behind, why they keep their secrets. Each one is worse than the last.

I don’t have an admirable past, Kam. I never led you to believe I did.

Knowing some of the things Kiaran did isn’t the same as seeing it.

That’s when I notice Kiaran is carrying: a young woman. He cradles her body against him, her blood splattered dark against the pale skin of his hands. She’s bleeding so heavily that it drips onto the rocks at his feet.Drip drip drip drip.

Aithinne’s attention is on the blood-splattered rocks, on his hands. I note her intake of breath, uneven, shallow. ‘You’ve brought me another gift, then,’ she whispers.

I swallow hard, feeling sick.

‘I don’t share your enthusiasm for slaughter, Kadamach,’ Aithinne says. Her hands are in fists; they betray her feelings. How very much she cares. ‘You should have had thesluaghdeliver this one for you like all the others.’

‘This isn’t like that,’ he says. His voice washes over me like a river in winter. I could drown in the cold of it. ‘Not this time.’

Kiaran kneels and places the woman on the rocks. Her face is turned toward me, her eyes closed. She’s not beautiful in the way that Catherine is. But she’s striking; her features are strong and fine. Her hair is long, a blonde so pale it’s almost white, and tucked into a long plait that rests across the rocks. The colourof her hair contrasts with her tan skin. Scars dot her cheeks, her chin, her eyebrows. Even in death, she looks like a warrior.

I recognise a hint of emotion in Kiaran’s hardened gaze, like the first drops of rain in a vast desert: longing. He strokes a finger across the woman’s cheek, leaving behind a blossom of blood there.

God, this is her.Her. The Falconer he fell in love with.

I didn’t love her nearly enough.

Aithinne looks at him, shock evident in her beautiful features. ‘Kadamach?’

He snatches his hand from the woman’s face, as if it burns. ‘Bring her back,’ he says sharply.

I shut my eyes briefly, remembering his words to me. Kiaran had to watch her die, and then had to watch me die. Just like this.

Aithinne blanches. ‘No. Don’t ask that of me.’

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