Page 120 of The Vanishing Throne

Then I can feel her in my mind. A forceful presence, pressing her way inside of me. ‘You may have power, Falconer, but I know all the ways to break you.’

Sorcha shows me the girlI once was, the bloody girl by her mother’s body. She tries to bring it out of my heart.

She doesn’t understand.

I’m not a creature of vengeance any more. I’m not just the girl whose gift is chaos. I died and came back. I’m the girl who endured.

I knock her off her feet. I slash my sword, almost moving in for a killing blow at her abdomen—

Killing her kills Kiaran.

The blade changes trajectory at the last second, catching her at the shoulder. I hiss in frustration and she smiles. ‘Can’t kill me, can you, Falconer? You’re not ready to lose Kadamach.’

‘Stop talking!’

I launch myself at her, but she’s on her feet before I can blink, dodging my attack. She’s quick. She moves as swift as a feline hunter, twisting away from me as I strike.

She slams into my mind, digging, digging, digging. Not showing me the girl this time, but trying to turn me into her. I stagger back, crying out against the pounding pain at my temples.

While I’m distracted, she knocks the sword out of my hand and slices her blade across my cheek. The wound stings, and I feel blood drip down my neck, a mirror of the injury I gave her.

‘Something to remembermeby,’ she whispers. She glances at where Kiaran is fighting themortair. ‘I hoped he’d come for you.’

I freeze. ‘What?’

‘Bait,’ she murmurs. ‘Part of the plan.’

Bait.I look over at Kiaran, fighting his way through fae. His power singeing the earth black.Bait.She knew they’d come. I open my mouth to scream at him to leave. ‘Kia—’

Sorcha’s fist smashes across my face. I stumble, spitting blood onto the muddy ground. Before I can recover, she grabs me by the arm and throws me. I roll through dirt and smack right into the base of the crystal.

‘Kam!’

Sorcha doesn’t stop. As if they understand, the other fae rush Kiaran and Aithinne and surround them. Dozens of fae hold them back as Sorcha pulls me up by the neck. She slams me against the crystal.

‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ she hisses. ‘The last Falconerinherits enough of Aithinne’s powers that I can amplify them through theneimhead. Enough to overpower her.’

I glare up at her, licking blood from my lips. ‘So you can steal my powers to kill Aithinne?’ I say bitterly.

‘No, you silly girl. Your powers will revert back to their rightful owner.’ Her fingernails dig into my skin, hard enough to bruise. ‘You see, it was Aithinne who bound the part of Kadamach that made him the Unseelie King. I need her power to reverse it.’ Her lips curve into that nightmarish smile. ‘She made a mistake, putting her powers in human bodies. Bodies that Icankill, right down to the last one. And with the crystal’s help you’ll have just enough of her power to help me unbind it. This ends with you.’

Then she drives her blade through my chest and into the crystal behind me.

Something breaks inside of me. The fae stop fighting as Kiaran sinks to the ground with a scream that cuts to my very soul. Shadows rise from the ground, enveloping him in dark tendrils. He hunches over, his fingers digging into the dirt. The fae around him suddenly keel over, too, dropping to their knees as his power is ripped out of them. Even Sorcha is writhing in agony.

My vision hazes, but I can see how Kiaran’s body trembles, how his shoulders shake. The soil breaks, an awful crack of the earth around his palm. The shadows come thicker, darker, until I can’t see him any more. He has no shape; he’s become enveloped.

‘No,’ Aithinne whispers, rushing to me. Her eyes are wet as she looks helplesslydown at the sword. ‘Falconer. I can’t heal this.’ Her voice breaks.

I can’t speak. I feel lightheaded, dizzy, as though I’m floating. I fight to keep living. But I can’t. I feel myself leaving my body, the same way I did when Kiaran put me into the sea. Floating … floating.

The shadows clear, and Kiaran looks up. As I take my last breath, I meet his dark, hungry gaze, and I know he isn’t Kiaran any more. He’s the Unseelie King.

Chapter 39

I am standing on the top of a cliff at sunset. Far, far below me, waves crash against the rock in a soothing rhythm. The spray is cool against my skin; it smells crisp, of salt mixed with the scent of heather on the air.

Trees stretch along the top of the cliffs on either side of me. The colours are like autumn in Scotland, red and orange hued, only much more vivid. It’s as though the entire coastline is aflame.

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