Page 24 of The Vanishing Throne

She says my name. Just my name. It’s been so long since I heard it, I had almost forgotten I had a name at all. Lonnrach always called meFalconer. Until that word was the only thing I had left that belonged to me.Falconer, an insult.Falconer, a thing.Falconer, a duty. And I’m a girl. I’m just a girl. Aileana Kameron. Kam.

Aithinne tells me, ‘I can help you forget.’ At my unasked question, she says, ‘What Lonnrach did to you. The place he kept you.’ She glances down at my marks. ‘I can make it so you believe you got these in the battle.’

God help me, I’m tempted. I don’t shake my head or say no. Not even when she places her hands on either side of my face again – her fingers twisting in my hair – and shuts her eyes.

Her power warms beneath my skin, soothing, comforting. My memories of that place begin to fade around the edges, blurring like fog-covered glass. She’s taking them into herself, stealing them from me –just like Lonnrach.

I want to know everything. I’ll take every memory you have, if that’s what it takes.

‘Stop.’ I tear out of her grasp and suddenly I’m back here in the ruins of my home. ‘They’re my memories to bear,’ I tell her. ‘Not yours.’

Aithinne wipes the blood from her lips again, pressing her sleeve there. Disbelief is evident in her features. ‘You think you deserve what happened, don’t you?’

I grip the tartan in my mud-caked hands, remembering why I left it in the trunk before the battle. I felt my mother wouldn’t like the person I had become. A part of me hoped I would save the city and finally –finally– be worthy to wear it.

I felt guilt for the longest time after failing that night of the Wild Hunt. A part of me still does.

Before I can respond, Aithinne says, ‘There is nothing you went through that I haven’t already endured. Lonnrach had two thousand years to break me and he never could.’

She tries reaching for me again. Even when I shrink away, she keeps her hand out, palm up. An offering. An absolution. ‘You were captured while performing a task that was never meant for you alone. You aren’t responsible for what Kadamach and I started. That’s why I’m offering to carry them for you.’

I almost ask her what she means, but the words don’t come out. I stare at her outstretched palm and nearly take it.

Now you know precisely how it feels to be that helpless.

That’s why I should never allow myself to forget. I’ll never be that helpless again. ‘No.’ I swallow back the lump in my throat. ‘I won’t do that to you.’

Did he do this? Like mine?

Worse. He did worse.

‘You,’ she tells me, her gaze never leaving mine, ‘are extraordinary.’

I smile wryly, forced. ‘For a human?’

She returns mysmile. ‘It’s just that now I see why Kadamach wanted me to move heaven and earth to find you.’ She passes me the clothes and boots. ‘Now get dressed. We need to hurry.’

She leaves the closet, shutting the broken remains of the door and offering me some semblance of privacy.

Now I see why Kadamach wanted me to move heaven and earth to find you.

No, I can’t think about what that means right now. My relationship with Kiaran is another complication I can’t even begin to fathom.

Quickly, I remove my torn shift, its light material like a whisper across my bare skin. Despite all it’s been through, the fae material is still soft as ever, perfect for bandages if I need. I fold it up and stuff it in my coat pocket.

The cotton shirt I pull over my head is so rough in comparison, and the raploch trousers and coat are even worse. But I would still rather wear my own clothes– as rough and worn as they are – than the delicate material that reminds me so much of Sorcha. After a moment’s hesitation, I tuck my mother’s tartan into my coat pocket, too. I can’t leave it here.

I sit on the damp floorboards to pull on the boots. I lace them, then grab the only weapon in the trunk – my self-loading blunderbuss, still snug in the holster that fits across my back. It was one of the first weapons I made to kill the fae, perfect for an untrained lady. As long as I was close enough to my target, the ammunition sprayed wide and I never missed, even when my hands shook.

I empty the remains ofseilgflùrfrom the blunderbuss’s hold. The thistle inside would never be effective after three years.

Three years three yearsthree years—

Focus.I pull the fabric-wrappedseilgflùrAithinne brought me from the pouch at my wrist and deftly tear up the petals to deposit into a compartment in the altered blunderbuss. Then I click the hold shut and stuff the weapon in its holster, adjusting it so the strap is firm across my chest.

Boom. I’m startled by a noise in the distance, like a cannon going off. I press my fingers to the floor, surprised to find a slight tremor there. The puddle of water near the door is unsettled into ripples.

‘Aithinne?’

---