Page 94 of The Vanishing Throne

‘I couldn’t stop myself,’ he says. His voice is calm, collected, but I watch the rise and fall of his shoulders, the shuddered breath there. ‘I couldn’t—’

‘Shh. I know.’ Aithinne kneels next to him. Their foreheads press together, and for a moment I imagine them when theywere young, sitting like that, sharing secrets the way twins do. ‘I know.’

‘Will you do something for me, Aithinne?’ Kiaran says, closing his eyes briefly. ‘No one else is capable of transferring power. Take it out of me. Whatever it is that compels me to hunt. I don’t want it any more.’

She pulls back. For a moment, I think she will refuse him, but I know she won’t. That’s not how their story begins.

‘I can’t take all of it or you’ll die,’ she says. Kiaran turns away, as if expecting to be disappointed, but she grips his arm. ‘But I can take just enough that you can make a choice. Who you kill, and if you don’t want to. You won’t need the Wild Hunt to survive any more.’

Kiaran nods, and Aithinne stares at him. I can see that she loves him. No matter what he’s done, or how brutal their war became, she still loves her brother. ‘I have to take away the part of you that holds power here.’

‘I know that,’ he tells her.

‘No. Kadamach—’ She grips his hand firmly. I can see how that surprises him, as if she hasn’t touched him with affection in the longest time. ‘You need to understand. The part of you that’s Unseelie will be gone,’ she says. ‘You won’t be able to enter theSìth-bhrùthafter this and you’ll have to give up your kingdom. One step beyond neutral territory will kill you.’

‘So be it,’ he says.

A memory flashes of Kiaran and me at this loch, what seems like a million years ago now. We sat on those very rocks, Kiaran gazing with longing across the water.It’s a sacrifice I made, Kam. I can never go back there.His choice. It was his choice to start over in the human realm.

Then I blink and the Cailleach and I are by the bonfire in the forest again. I am still sitting in the chair of vines and blue blossoms, my skin as cold as frost. The Cailleach releases me, looking older and frailer than ever, the thin bones of her shoulders jutting out beneath her shadow cloak. She leans on her staff and looks into the fire, the flames reflecting in that empty, dark gaze.

‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘When Aithinne took out his powers?’

‘My daughter, young fool that she was, didn’t realise that when you remove power, you need a vessel to hold it. Someone else has to accept it.’

‘Or?’

The Cailleach’s thin body shudders. ‘It becomes divided,mo nighean. You already know this from experience: as each Falconer died, their power spread among the survivors.

‘My son’s power went into everysìthicheanwho resided in theSìth-bhrùth. Seelie became Unseelie; those with the power of creation now craved death. They can’t survive without killing, just as my son couldn’t. When he made that choice, the kingdoms fell. My children destroyed them both.’

I think back to the mirrored room, when I finally broke my silence with Lonnrach and asked him why he hated Kiaran so much.

Your Kiaran is the worst sort of traitor, and his sister is no different. Now it’s up to me to fix their mistakes.

Lonnrach was Seelie; Aithinne was his queen, and she sacrificed her throne. So did Kiaran. Now I understand what Lonnrach meant when he referred to theirmistakes.

Aithinne’s words to me in the destroyed Edinburgh flash in my memories.You’re not responsible for something we started.

Kiaran and Aithinne began it all: the Falconers, the battle that trapped Lonnrach’s soldiers underground. They’re the reason every fae I ever hunted existed for nothing but the kill. Lonnrach even mentioned the small number of humans the fae lured into the underground were barely enough to keep them all sated – because they needed that human energy tolive.

There’s just one last thing. One final truth I need to hear. ‘What did you mean,’ I say quietly, ‘when you said you took from me, too?’

The Cailleach is a sunken shell, thin and cavernous. The grip of her shadow cloak slips to reveal her collarbones. Herribs are visible beneath the thin skin of her chest.

‘You don’t really think thebaobhan sìthcould have killed all the descendants of the Falconers, did you?’ she says in a dark whisper. ‘Not with my son protecting them. His powers are far greater than hers.’

I swear my heart stops. I can’t breathe. I stare at the Cailleach’s ageing form and the old rage inside me stirs. I suddenly recall Sorcha’s words on the snowy cliffs when she froze all those soldiers. That she was riskingherwrath by warning Kiaran.Her.

‘You helped her slaughter the Falconers. Didn’t you?’

‘Aye,’ the Cailleach says. ‘I used what power I have left in your world to interfere.’ I think she’s looking at me, but I can’t see beyond the hollowedeyes of her skull. ‘I helped her take your mother from you.’

In an instant, the rage inside of me surges, unbidden, unrelenting. I had almost forgotten how it felt, how the heat of it sets my skin aflame, how it whispers in my ear and tells me my purpose is vengeance. Retribution.

I rise from the vine seat with the slow, deliberate movements of a killer. There’s no fear in the Cailleach’s gaze. No remorse. It makes me want to slay her slowly. And without a weapon, I’ll do it with my bare hands.

I leap for her, poised to break that thin, skeletal neck. A bolt of lightning strikes the ground in front of me. It cracks the earth with a tremendous clap, and the force of it knocks me off my feet, sends me sprawled on my back. I release a breath through the agonizing tightness of my chest.

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