Page 49 of The Vanishing Throne

‘Home?’ I ask, my lips barely moving.

I see her hesitation. Catherine takes my hand. ‘Shh. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

I dream about home. Not my old life – tea parties and dancing and balls – just the place. In my dream I’m with my mother and we’resitting on the grass in the Princes Street gardens.

It’s summer, and the flowers are in full bloom. My favourite was always the lobelia; the delicate flower covers the ground in vivid purple buds. During this time of year, the perennials are spread across the green space in beautiful splashes of colour. They blanket the hillside below the castle in yellows, reds, purples, and pinks, and the grass has never been more lush.

The sun is warm on my face. My hat is tipped back so I can feel the heat of the rays. I wear a day dress of light blue, its muslinthin enough that I can feel the heavenly summer breeze.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ my mother says. She closes her eyes, her skin glowing gold in the afternoon sun. ‘I miss this.’

‘I do, too,’ I say.

‘We ought to visit the shore later. Just you and me.’

‘I’d love that,’ I say, a catch in my voice.I don’t belong here with you.

Mother glances over at me. ‘Is there something wrong?’

‘I just … I wish I could stay.’ I rip the petals off the lobelia. One at a time.

‘Why wouldn’t you?’

How do I explain this to her gently?‘There’s someplace I have to be. People I’m responsible for.’

Mother’s laugh sends a shiver down my back like a stroke of cold, wet fingertips. ‘What a silly thing to say,’ she says. When she tips her hat further back, her red hair and green eyes are a little too bright. Were they always that bright? ‘Of course you’re not responsible for anyone.’

The way she says it stirs something inside me. She sounds dismissive. Mother never sounded dismissive. ‘But—’

‘We ought to build something new, lass. Whatever you desire. Wouldn’t you like that?’

Whatever you desire. Wouldn’t you like that?

‘No,’ I say. Something isn’t right.

Sharp cawing laughter draws my attention. Ravens gather in the grass around us, hundreds of them. They weren’t there before. Now their inky, flapping wings cover the ground, their beaks sharp and bright red and dripping. Blood?

Mother grasps my hand so tightly that I gasp. ‘I’ll find you.’ When my gaze meets hers, I go cold. Her eyes are black as pitch, like a starless night. I could drown in them. ‘Wherever you go, I’ll find you.’

‘Minnie?’ I whisper, calling her by the nickname I gave her so long ago.Not her. It’s not her.

As I look on, her face begins to fade away, skin peeling off untilher skull is visible. With a sharp cry, I try to tear my hand from her grasp, but she holds firm.

Before I realise, the sun is gone. The sky has darkened quickly until there is nothing left but black clouds. The flowers around us wilt and die. They turn to dust. The ravens laugh with sharp squawks and flapping wings.

‘Let go of me.’ I’m pulling so hard that it hurts. Her grasp is so tight that her fingers dig into my skin, a bruising pressure.

‘After this, you’re on borrowed time, Falconer,’ she tells me. Her voice drops until it’s unrecognizable. She pulls me close, whispers in my ear. ‘I’ll see you again soon.’

I wake with a start, groaning at the pain. It feels like my entire body is on fire. I claw at the blankets, at my skin. Ithurts.

‘Aileana.’ Hands gently push at my shoulders. ‘It’s all right. You’re all right.’ Catherine.

I open my eyes to find her leaning over me. She looks even more exhausted than she had the last time I awoke; I wonder how long she’s been here now.

‘Too hot,’ I rasp.

Catherine frowns, pressing her palm to my cheek. ‘You’re still running a fever. Give me a moment.’ She reaches for something. I hear water splash before she holds up a wet cloth. She folds it over and places it on my forehead.

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