Page 99 of The Vanishing Throne

He’s staring out to the horizon. Blood trails from his hands in the water behind him. Then he looks over to the beach, and his eyes meet mine. My heart drops. His eyes.His eyes. The look in them reminds me so much of Kadamach. The deep, never-ending darkness in them. The hopelessness.

‘He went out there when Aithinne couldn’t bring you back,’ Derrick says.

I’m about to go get him when Aithinne grasps my wrist. Her eyes are still unfocused, but somehow she finds the strength to pull me down until her lips are at my ear. Her message is whispered for me only. ‘Today was a reminder that he’ll lose you someday.’ Her next words are spoken with regret: ‘Falconers always die young. Always.’

She loses consciousness and Gavin turns to take her inside.

My gaze meets Kiaran’s again and it’s like the entire world dissolves away.I know, I want to tell him.I know everything.

He looks away from me sharply, as if he heard my thoughts. Maybe he did. Before I can stop him, he strides out of the water to the dark entrance of the cave.

Later that evening, I stare at the pile of pieces on my worktable, a collection Derrick has no doubt been amassing during my entire three-year absence. There are broken flintlock pistols and watch fobs and pinions and screws, scraps of metal from various sources.

‘They’re for you to work on,’ Derrick had said, as he fussed over me after stitching up Aithinne. ‘Look at all the shiny ones! Those are my favourites.’

I think what happened to me frightened him, though he’d never say so. Aithinne had healed my body right away, but she had spent several hours searching for me through the veil. It seemed like so much longer, as though the Cailleach and I had been drifting in and out of memories for an eternity.

‘I need to be alone for a while,’ I tell Derrick. ‘Just to understand what happened.’

His wings flick together. ‘You want me to be quiet?’

I smile and shake my head. ‘Alonealone.’ I brush a hand down his wings. ‘Can you go and check the wards again?’

I can’t help but be worried about the Cailleach. Even though Aithinne told her she didn’t want the throne, the Cailleach doesn’t strike me as someone who takes no for an answer.

I may have limited powers in your realm, but I know that everyone you have left is in that underground kingdom. Surely you want them safe?

‘Fine,’ he mutters. ‘But you had better tell me everything later.’

He flies from the room in a stream of light. I sigh and look out the window. It’s snowing again in the fake ruined Edinburgh. My house is the only one in the square still left standing. From here, I can see the destroyed walls of the castle – the way the vines have overgrown in what was once the gardens on Princes Street.

I consider wishing the room in some other place. Argentina, perhaps. Or the West Indies. Somewhere warm. Somewhere that looks nothing like Scotland, where I can sink my toes into warm sand and forget for a while.

But then I look outsideand watch the snow fall onto the pavement that no longer exists and I wish for nothing else.

One of the cogs Derrick was just handling rolls to the floor with a sharp rap that draws me from my reverie. I scoop it up and place it among its metal companions. My eyes rove over the shapes, the way they fit together.

Once I would have been able to piece them together with little trouble at all. It never took any planning or forethought; building came as naturally to me as breathing. Inventing new weapons was like putting together a complex puzzle – an exciting new discovery. At the very least, it staved off my nightmares.

Now I don’t even have that small bit of comfort. Today the shapes seem foreign. I can’t figure out if they fit together. I don’t know what to make, or how to make it.

I pick up a piece and hold part of an old clock-face.What would I do with you?

Without meaning to, I feel the power inside me uncoil. It flows through the veins of my arms, down my wrist, and pushes out of my palm, its heat warping the metal. The hands of the clock-face spring up and twist to become petals. The other metal parts curve around it to form aflower stem made of glowing, melted gold.

It’s beautiful. I’m in awe. I made that.I made it.

A swift knock at the door breaks my concentration and I drop the golden flower to the carpet with a thump.

The bedroom door behind me opens and clicks softly closed. ‘Derrick.’ I sigh, turning in my chair, ‘Itoldyou—’

My breath stops. Kiaran. He’s still soaked from the waves and the rain. His clothes drip onto the carpet. Now that I have the Sight, I realise just how much he shines, a tawny sheen to his glistening skin. And his eyes are so luminous, bright. I was wrong to compare the colour to lilac. The flower pales in comparison.

His hand is bound with a torn scrap of linen, blood seeping through the fabric from a cut like Aithinne’s that still hasn’t healed.

I stare at the crimson stain blossoming through the white material and remember him stroking the dead Falconer’s face, leaving a streak of red against her tan skin. I flinch and turn back to the metal pieces, not even seeing them.

What do I say?I don’t even know how to begin. ‘How’s your hand?’

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