The Falconer (Elizabeth May) (12 page)

I’m speechless with shock. This is a betrayal. This goes beyond our unspoken pact for privacy during our daytime lives.

Kiaran simply smiles.

Chapter 12

I
try not to let my distress show as Kiaran approaches. Catherine notices something, though, and glances over at Kiaran . . . She freezes, gaping in shock.

He isn’t even bothering with invisibility, then. I bite my tongue to restrain the vile oath that threatens to slip out. When he said we would finish last night’s conversation, I didn’t think that meant he’d accost me in a public garden.

Kiaran stops next to me and doesn’t bother to acknowledge Catherine or Dona. His amethyst eyes bore into mine, challenging me. Now that I see them in full daylight, I can’t help but notice how piercing they are, how unyielding.

‘I need to speak with you,’ he says.

Catherine and Dona gasp at his presumption. A gentleman never approaches a group of ladies and says something so forward. And Kiaran is already looking at me in a way that betrays far too much familiarity.

My private life is now exposed to him, and here I am. Not a huntress. Not the violent creature who slaughtered two redcaps just last night. A mere lady: fine garments, parasol and all.

And now I must act the part or risk losing my reputation. I raise my chin and attempt to impose some order on the situation. ‘Miss Catherine Stewart, will you permit me to introduce . . . erm –’ I swallow hard ‘– Mr Kiaran MacKay?’

Catherine stares at him, an odd expression on her face. ‘How do you do?’

Kiaran finally averts his attention from me and acknowledges my companions. He blinks, as if surprised they’re still there. Then he regards them both with a narrowed, fixed glare.

‘Kam, I’m not here to socialise.’

‘Don’t you
dare
embarrass me, you oaf,’ I hiss through clenched teeth. Then, more loudly, ‘And this is Miss Dona MacGregor.’

He chose this moment to approach me, and I’ll force him to observe the proper etiquette for greeting ladies in a park, the cad.

Dona doesn’t speak. Her shawl has slipped from around her face and her eyes are wide and frightened her skin even paler than usual.

She can only sense me on occasion
, Derrick said. Not that it’s at all difficult to guess Kiaran isn’t human, since he’s terrible at playing the part. His fae nature is evident in his uncanny beauty, in the way he moves and breathes. He would never look entirely normal, even if he cared to try.

Damnation. I should have sent Dona away instead of listening to Derrick. Rose-scented cleaning solution, indeed.

‘You,’ Kiaran says to Dona, very softly, ‘know exactly what I am, don’t you?’

Dona trembles. ‘I’m . . . I don’t understand.’

‘You understand perfectly well,’ Kiaran says. ‘But maintain that pretence. It might save your life one day.’

I step in front of Dona, glowering at Kiaran. ‘Couldn’t you even attempt to be human?’ I ask. ‘For a mere five minutes?’

Kiaran sighs and mutters something in that language I don’t understand.

Catherine doesn’t appear to notice my maid’s panic, or the strangeness of our conversation. She stares at Kiaran in silent, unabashed awe. Then she blinks rapidly and puts her hand out, palm down, as though she had forgotten that part of a proper greeting.

Kiaran takes her hand. ‘What am I to do with it? Kiss it?’

Dona shivers and Catherine looks to be on the verge of swooning. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she whispers, in a dreamy way that sounds completely unlike herself.

I gape at Catherine with dawning horror. Oh, hell! She’s been faestruck. Kiaran told me about the terrible effect the
daoine sìth
have on humans. People willingly become victims for a single touch from a faery, for a moment of closeness. Before the
daoine sìth
were trapped underground, many humans had died because of it.

‘I’ve changed my mind. Stop inadequately playing human,’ I say. ‘Drop her hand and step away. Take a very big step.’

Kiaran leans against the tree next to me. ‘Are you quite finished, then?’ he asks. ‘We must discuss—’

‘Forgive me, Mr MacKay,’ Catherine says, shaking her head as if to clear it, ‘but I must say, you’re so very beautiful.’

Kiaran regards her calmly. ‘I see this is not going as well as I had hoped.’

My goodness, what an insensitive buffoon. Just when I think he can’t be so at sea when it comes to being around humans, he goes and proves me wrong. ‘This is what happens,’ I tell him, ‘when you decide to make yourself visible. Are you
mad
?’

‘It seemed . . . convenient at the time,’ he replies, apparently unconcerned about the effect he’s having on my friend.

‘To the devil with you, Kiaran MacKay.’

Dona clutches Catherine’s shoulder to keep her at bay. ‘My lady,’ she whispers, ‘we should leave. This . . . something isn’t right.’

‘I don’t want to,’ Catherine says, wrenching out of her grip. ‘I’m not ready.’

Catherine grasps the sleeve of Kiaran’s frock coat, twisting the fabric to pull him to her, her eyes dazed. The faestruck will rip and tear clothing for another touch of a faery’s skin. She hasn’t reached that point, not yet, but any further contact with him and she might.

I yank her back and insert myself in front of her, grasping her shoulders. ‘Catherine?’

Her fingernails dig into my coat, her movements uncoordinated and unfocused. ‘Beautiful,’ she breathes, never taking her eyes off Kiaran.

‘Fix this,’ I snap at him. ‘Or I shall never forgive you.’

‘Leave,’ he tells my companions without averting his gaze from mine. ‘Now.’

The burst of power that comes from him – usually so tempting and magnetic – cramps my stomach, a nauseating churn that doubles me over. It’s a taste so heavy that I almost heave from it.

Without hesitation or a word of farewell, Dona and Catherine turn and stroll across the grass, in the direction of Princes Street. Their movements are calm, as if nothing is amiss. They wander through the trees and out of sight.

‘What did you do to them?’

‘I compelled them to return home,’ he says. ‘They won’t remember me.’

‘Is Catherine—’

‘She’s fine. The effects of seeing me will wear off.’

I throw my parasol onto the ground and scowl at him. It takes all my effort not to strike him. ‘What were you thinking, coming here?’

Kiaran tilts his face to the sky. The final remnants of sunshine lights his skin with a golden glow both strange and lovely. ‘Such magnificent weather, is it not?’

Stop staring at him, you ninny
. I tear my gaze away. ‘How dare you do this? We had an agreement.’

He pushes away from the tree and circles me, as if cornering his prey. His feet are silent on the grass. ‘I don’t recall ever speaking a vow.’

‘It was understood.’

‘I don’t deal in implied negotiations.’ Kiaran glances behind me. ‘Am I to understand you don’t want us to be seen together?’

I snort. ‘Of course not. Especially now that you’ve deprived me of my chaperone.’

Kiaran clicks his tongue and gestures behind me. ‘So you should be concerned about
them
, then.’

I whirl. A couple strolls in our direction, a chaperone not far behind. They have yet to see me, but a lady of my reputation and social standing should not be alone in a park – and being spotted alone with a man would surely make things worse.

With a gasp, I tear off a glove and grab Kiaran’s bare hand. ‘Hide us,’ I whisper.

‘I’ll consider it. Shall we bargain?’

I’m tempted to pick up my parasol and beat him with it. ‘You’ve ruined my afternoon. At least do me this service.’

Kiaran smirks and laces his fingers through mine. I’m amazed at how smooth they are, how warm. ‘There now.’ His words are low, barely audible. ‘You’re hidden.’

His eyes are depthless, as though they hold an endless expanse of space, deep and dark. Except for the gold flecks, cinders burning within the infinite abyss. Kiaran’s age is reflected there. He has seen centuries come and go, seen countless people live and die, the birth and destruction of whole civilisations. He is a living relic.

The couple pass by us, laughing and chattering. I’m struck with sudden shame that Kiaran has to hide me from my peers, and that I even need him to. When did I come to care so much for his opinion of me? I want so badly for him to see me as the huntress and not the lady –
never
the lady. The nights we hunt are the only times I’ve ever felt on equal terms with a man – even if he isn’t one.

I should be angry at him. I should scold him again for coming to me like this, for forcing me to reveal the side of me I didn’t want him to know about. Instead, I blush with embarrassment, and I can’t even begin to comprehend why.

Unable to meet his eyes any more, I look away. ‘I never wanted you to see me like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Me in this blasted dress. I’m the highborn daughter of a marquess. I must look like I’ve never touched a weapon in my life.’ I shouldn’t have told him this. Now I’ll appear weaker than ever.

I am the wild creature he saw fight, kill and survive only last night. Dresses conceal my brokenness. They cloak the savage creature that lives inside me and thrives on anger. I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

His response surprises me. ‘Trifling matters, Kam. It changes nothing. Do you think these clothes hinder my ability to use a blade? They’re no impediment.’

I almost laugh. ‘Try fighting in a corset and petticoats.’

He smiles wryly.

I scan his undeniably expensive outfit. I know quality fabrics when I see them. ‘Where did you even find those?’

‘The shopkeeper gave them to me,’ he says.

‘Under the influence of faery powers, I presume?’

‘
Sìthichean
.’

‘Faeries.’

Kiaran smirks. ‘I wanted the clothes. He had them. I asked for them – nicely – and he tailored them for me. Now they are well fitted. Must we discuss the morality of it?’

Morality
. In all my worry over him finding me this way, I had completely forgotten the real reason he needed to speak to me, and I go cold again. Our genial moment has passed.

‘Aye, MacKay,’ I drawl. ‘Let’s discuss morality. Like the morality of failing to tell me about a seal that, once broken, will unleash faeries that could slaughter thousands of humans?’

Kiaran at least has the decency to look a bit uncomfortable, though his only tell is a slight shift of his gaze. ‘Someday, I’ll cut out that pixie’s tongue,’ he mutters.

‘At least he was honest with me.’

I look around. There is no one else in sight, just Kiaran and me standing in the middle of a circle of trees. Good. I release his hand and put my glove back on.

‘The seal breaking is an inevitability,’ Kiaran says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. ‘It’ll happen when the lunar eclipse occurs on midwinter. In six days.’

‘Six days,’ I whisper, almost unable to say the words.

I go cold and it’s hard to breathe. That’s too soon. If the fae manage to escape, how will it be possible to save the city? An entire human army couldn’t defeat the fae. Even a few more escaped redcaps could wreak untold havoc. I can’t stand against them if that happens, not on my own. I can’t save everyone.

‘We have to find the seal before that happens,’ I tell him. ‘Reactivate it somehow.’

He shakes his head. ‘The seal can only be reactivated during the eclipse. All the
sìthichean
will have slipped through by then.’

‘Surely there must be something we can do,’ I say.

‘We have one chance.’ He is so quiet I can only just hear him over the breeze. Around us, the trees rattle and dead leaves tumble through the grass. ‘You have to be there to reactivate it,’ he says. ‘You’re the only one who can.’

Chapter 13

S
urely I must have heard him wrong. ‘I beg your pardon?’ Kiaran shifts closer, removing his hands from his pockets to brush his fingers against mine. His power tingles through my glove, warm and soft. It would be a reassuring gesture if it hadn’t come from him. Kiaran doesn’t comfort. He never has. ‘Last night you asked me a question. Do you remember?’

‘What is a Falconer?’ I whisper.

Maybe I shouldn’t see where this path leads. Perhaps it is best to keep it simply a word and not learn the truth behind it. Let myself pretend that a Falconer is precisely what Derrick said it was, that he didn’t half-lie.

No, I can’t do that. Father may think that I play with my inventions and neglect my responsibilities, but he’s wrong.
This
is my responsibility, my burden. I won’t run away from it. I
won’t
.

Kiaran lifts my chin. ‘Kam.
You
are a Falconer,’ he says.

‘But what does it mean?’

He shakes his head. ‘Tell me what you feel and I’ll tell you what it means.’

Kiaran’s palm presses against mine, warm enough to be felt through my glove. The backs of his fingers stroke my cheek and traces of his power glide along my skin and roll off like drops of warm water. The taste is exquisite, like silk flower petals that brush up and down my tongue. My breath hitches and I lean into the warmth of his touch.

‘Tell me.’

‘I-I don’t—’

‘You do,’ he says. ‘You feel power.’

‘Aye,’ I sigh.

‘And you’ve sensed the
sìthichean
since the first one you ever saw, haven’t you?’

The first faery. The first one the first one
the first one
—

I shove away from his touch, so hard that I almost lose my footing. Cold puddle water soaks through my stockings.
I won’t remember. I won’t remember
. But I can’t stop the memories that gather and crash against me.

Blood. Blood coats my white dress, stains and slicks my skin from fingers to elbows. Lying prostrate in a thick pool of it on the cobblestones. I’m baptised in it, created, reborn. My stomach constricts with the thick, painful taste of iron.

Crimson suits you best crimson suits you best crimson suits—

‘
No
.’