The Vanishing Throne (5 page)

I can't help it; my gaze lingers on his cheek, where the light shield had burned him so badly that I could see the bone beneath. All of his injuries have healed over with smooth, unblemished skin.

He can't be real. I'm only imagining him. Not real. “You said you couldn't enter the
Sìth-bhrùth
,” I say, certain now. Lonnrach must have created him just to torture me. He's changing tactics. “Not without dying.”

With an impatient look, Kiaran holds out his hand. When I reach for him—entirely without thinking—my fingers pass through his skin. They
pass through
. As if he was a bloody specter.

I snatch my hand back. “So Lonnrach did conjure you up. Well, it won't work.”

He mutters a curse, so very Kiaran-like. Lonnrach is good at this.

“I can project myself here without dying,” Kiaran says, sounding somewhat irritated. “If I feel inclined to use an exhausting amount of power.”

I'm still suspicious. “Then why have you never visited before?”

“Lonnrach put wards up that made it difficult to track you, and they take time to dismantle. My sister is still working through the one that leads to this room.” He gestures to himself. “She was able to lift it just enough for this form to pass through while she finishes. Satisfied?”

If I allow myself to believe him . . . no. I can't. Lonnrach has been in my mind. I've taken his food. He can make me see whatever he wants. “No. I don't believe you.”

“Your stubbornness is commendable, truly,” Kiaran says dryly. “I'm grateful you still have it.”

“See? That's how I know you're Lonnrach's creation.” I wag my finger at him. “Kiaran always hated my stubbornness.”

“Honestly, at the moment I'm having a hard time not mistaking it for stupidity.”

I glare at him. “As a figment of my imagination, I demand you stop insulting me.” I press my fingernails into the grooves of the bite-marks again and shut my eyes. “And go away.”

He's quiet for so long, I swear he must have gone. I refuse to open my eyes to find out.

“Kam.” This time when Kiaran says my name, I hear the hint of emotion there barely contained.

When I open my eyes, he's staring down at me—no, not at me. At where my fingernails are embedded. The sleeve of my shift has slipped back to reveal the length of my forearm. I watch as he takes in my new scars, my scabbing marks, up to my neck, where a dozen more are puckered and healed over. The latest one, just above my collarbone, is still bleeding.

I don't think I've ever seen his expression so cold and brutal. Not like this. Lonnrach could never have pulled that from my memories. This is really Kiaran.
Kiaran
. He didn't abandon me. He's here
for
me.

Kiaran kneels by my side. This time when he reaches for me, his touch is solid. I'm startled by it. It's been
daysweeksmonthsyears
since I've been touched by someone other than Lonnrach and I almost forgot how gentleness felt. I don't pull away. Not even when he wraps his fingers around my wrist to draw my arm closer.

I'm embarrassed by the marks. Now he knows I stopped fighting. That I didn't resist anymore. “He wanted . . . he—”

“I know what he wanted.” Kiaran's voice is rough, tinged with anger. He traces my scars with his thumb, as if memorizing the pattern. “I'll kill him for giving you these.”

“
No
,” I say, a bit forcefully. Kiaran looks at me, surprised. “It'll be me. It has to be me.”

I will him to understand. Lonnrach could have broken me. He practically did. All I had left were my memories, my feelings, and once I lost those—I would have been his.
It has to be me
.

“Very well,” Kiaran says simply.

That's not good enough. “Promise.”

Kiaran strokes my wrist with his thumb—once, twice, three times. Stopping when he reaches the part where several marks overlap. “On one condition.” He holds my gaze. “You let me be the one who supplies the blade.”

“Aye,” I whisper.

He understands. We've hunted together. We've lost a battle together. That's a bond that lasts a lifetime.

Kiaran nods. “Let's get you out of here.”

I'd imagined those words a thousand times, picturing myself strong and capable again. In my imagination, I stand without difficulty. The truth is, when Kiaran helps me to my feet, my vision sways from the blood loss and lingering venom of Lonnrach's bite. My knees almost immediately buckle.

Kiaran grasps my shoulders—or tries to. His hands go right through me and I just barely manage to catch myself.

“Listen to me.” His voice muffles slightly, as though he's speaking across a great distance. “This mirror”—he indicates the nearest one—“will lead you to my sister. The ward that was preventing you from leaving should be down by now.”

“You're not coming?” I try to keep the emotion out of my voice. I just got Kiaran back. I can't lose him again.

“I can't keep this form for long.” He's already fading, his body blurring around the edges.

“Wait! Don't—”

With his last bit of strength, Kiaran cups my cheek. His fingers are warm, so warm. “I'll be waiting for you on the other side.”

O
NCE THROUGH
the mirror, I blink hard against the sudden onslaught of natural light. My vision clears and I'm surprised to find myself on the edge of a platform that looks across the
Sìth-bhrùth
's crevasse. The other floating platforms are familiar, and I realize they're the ones I saw when Lonnrach first brought me here. That seems like so long ago now, from another life entirely.

I peer up at the building on the platform with me. Its mirrored dome rises high toward the thick rain clouds, glinting in the rays of light that shine through. I recognize the glimmering, star-patterned dome and the opulent structure as the magnificent palace I noticed when I arrived. So it wasn't a royal residence at all—but a prison.

I take a moment to close my eyes, to breathe in deep. My lungs fill with winter air, fresh and crisp.

Later
, I tell myself.
Once I'm safe
.

I scan the lip of the platform; there's little space between the wall of the palace and the rim of the rock that descends to the darkness below. Kiaran's sister is nowhere to be seen.

Damnation
. I edge closer and look over. My stomach drops and I sway on my feet. Instinctively, I crouch closer to the ground, placing my palms to the dirt. No, there's nothing down there. Not even a platform to leap onto.

“I wouldn't,” a voice says, only a moment before I'm hit with the taste of power. Rose petals across my tongue, down my throat.

My head snaps around to see a faery crouched on her own rocky platform a good stone's throw from the castle. Even at this distance, her beauty is the type to make one feel instantly inadequate. Her long dark hair shines even in the drab landscape. It's pulled into a plait that reaches her narrow waist. Molten silver eyes meet mine, and there's a spark of interest there, as if she's sizing me up.

She wears fitted trousers and knee-high boots with brass buckles. A raploch coat hangs off her narrow shoulders, so long that it drapes around her like a long blanket.

This is Kiaran's sister?
I search her face for a resemblance and she immediately says, “You're staring. Is there something wrong with my face?”

I clear my throat. I
had
been staring rather intently. “Quite sorry. Kiaran said—”

“Who?”

“Kiaran.”
Is she daft?
“He said—”

“Hmm.” She considers for a moment. “I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name.”

I edge closer to the castle, away from her. Maybe she's a guard for Lonnrach, here to make sure I don't make it out alive.

I search for a platform nearby. If this faery is one of Lonnrach's soldiers, I can't risk waiting for Kiaran's sister. I'll either have to fight or flee, and in the state I'm in, this faery could tear through me like gauze.

Flee it is.

“Are you thinking about jumping?” the faery asks.

My voice hardens. “No.” I didn't survive all that and get this far just to jump.

“Because it wouldn't be a good decision. You'd fall right to the bottom.” She smacks her hands together. “
Splat
. Emptied into the sea on the other side of the
Sìth-bhrùth
. A human, of course, would never survive such a thing.”

“Likely not,” I say dryly. So Lonnrach has sent a deranged faery to guard me. He must have been
very
certain I'd never make it out.

Maybe Kiaran's sister is on the other side of the castle. I push to my feet and start walking, nearly letting out a groan when the platform the faery is on follows me. Oh, confound it.

“You have blood on your neck. Is it yours? Have you noticed?”

I freeze. My fingertips immediately feel for the bite-marks there, the last ones Lonnrach left on me. Fear quickens
my pace. I have to get out of here before he comes back. I can't go back to that. I can't.

I try to hold myself together so I don't stumble, but my knees are trembling.
Stay calm. You're going to escape. You won't go back there
.

“So is it?”

For god's sake
.
I whirl on her. “Is it
what
?”

She nods to my neck. “Yours.”

I narrow my gaze. “Has it escaped your notice that I'm mere seconds away from leaping over there and boxing you in the throat?”

Her hand immediately smacks against her chest. “Oh. But I rather value my throat.”

Maybe if I ignore her, she'll go away? I continue my circuit around the castle, finally reaching the other side. I sigh. There's no one else to be found.

I begin to assess my surroundings on this side. I step toward the ledge and look down again.

“You keep looking down there.” I grit my teeth at her voice. So ignoring her doesn't work. “If you're not thinking about jumping, is there something you need?” she asks me. “Something you lost?”

“If you must know,” I say tightly, “I'm trying to get off this blasted platform.”

“That's a relief,” she says. “I was afraid what you'd lost was important and we'd have to find it at the bottom of the sea.”

Before I can blink, the faery's platform is right in front of me and she's grabbing my wrist to yank me aboard. I pitch forward with a sound of protest. By the time I right myself,
our tiny island of rock has moved away from the castle and into the space of the ravine.

“What on earth do you think you're doing?”

The faery merely lifts a finger, licks it with a quick darting tongue, and raises it into the air. “Feeling for wind. Under the right conditions, I'll be able to open a door between the worlds without Lonnrach detecting.” She gives me a slow smile. “It's a gift.”

I narrow my gaze. “So you
are
Kiaran's sister.”
And you're completely mental
.

“Hmm?” She's not looking at me. With her finger still in the air, her eyes have gone shadowed, their molten-silver irises swirling and swirling. “No, you must be mistaken. I'm Kadamach's sister. This Kiaran fellow sounds like trouble.”

Confound it. “Kiaran.
Is
. Kadamach.”

“Ah.” She wiggles her finger as she checks the wind, never breaking her look of intense concentration. “Well. That certainly explains why you keep mentioning him,” she says absently. “I'm Aithinne. You must be the Falconer I've had a devil of a time finding. Pleased to meet you.”

I finally notice the subtle resemblances between Aithinne and Kiaran. They have the same gleaming dark hair, the same skin—pale and shining like moonlight. And their eyes, while different in color, share a similar intensity. She presses her brows together in concentration the same way he does.

For Kiaran's sake—and for mine—I suppose I should be pleasant. “I'm glad you made it out of the mounds,” I blurt without thinking.

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I notice how she goes still, how her concentration seems to waver and the light fades slightly from her eyes.

“Aye,” Aithinne says softly. “I made it out.” Finally, she looks at me. Her gaze lands on my scars, on the one she noticed before that's still bleeding. “And so shall you.”

And now you know precisely how it feels to be that helpless
.

Unlike Aithinne, I didn't have a thousand faeries in the mirrored room to torture me.
I won't ever forget that it was your kin who put us there. That your precious Kiaran and his sister helped
.

She was trapped there for more than two thousand years with the enemy in a tomblike underground with no escape. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she went through.

As if realizing I'm studying her, Aithinne sucks in a breath and concentrates harder. After a few quiet moments, she says, “I can't open the door here. The wind is blowing in the wrong direction and we don't have time to wait.” She presses her palm flat against the platform. “We'll have to find it.”

She's speaking in riddles, for all I understand. “Find what? The wind?” Perhaps my sanity? I believe I have lost something after all.

Aithinne gestures over my shoulder and I look.
Oh, bloody hell
.

Atop the cliff is one of the deep, dark forests I had seen when I first arrived. This one is so thick that no light reaches below the canopy of branches. The shadows there are a curtain hiding everything from view. The black metal trees
tower high, the area in front of them obscured by thick mist that settles at the edge of the cliff.