The Falconer (Elizabeth May) (22 page)

‘Does it hurt?’ His voice startles me. I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. ‘Then you’re not immune to the poison.’

‘The
what
?’

‘Hold still.’

I try not to let myself become overwhelmed by his touch. Is this what it’s like to be faestruck? To experience one moment of intimacy, no matter how inconsequential, and want more? I can’t forget what he is. That even if he feels like a man, he isn’t one.

Time to distract myself. ‘MacKay?’

‘Hmm?’ He sounds indifferent. Impersonal, as usual.

‘Tell me about the Falconers. Why are they called that?’

His fingers are picking at something on my skin, but I can only just feel it. The area around the wound is too numb. ‘They had the ability to connect with falcons,’ he says. ‘Each woman had one, her personal companion, and could see through her falcon’s eyes during a hunt.’

‘Why falcons?’

Kiaran strokes my skin, leaving a damp trail of what I guess to be blood. ‘You may see them as mere birds, but they are capable of travelling between our worlds, because they belong to both – just as a Falconer does. They are the only animals capable of seeing past our glamours, and are impervious to mental influence. It made them the perfect spy for your kind.’ He clears his throat. ‘And when Falconers began using them, the
sìthichean
attempted to slaughter them along with their owners.’

Under his formal tone is a hint of sadness. I wonder what memories haunt Kiaran, what could possibly have affected him so much that he should show any emotion at all. I would give anything for him to tell me.

‘And where were you when all this happened?’

When his hand pauses against my skin it’s no longer warm. It’s freezing, cold enough to burn. The strong taste of earth and honey, so pleasant before, now coats my tongue so strong. ‘That,’ he says, ‘is not what you truly desire to ask.’

I keep myself still. Sometimes it’s best to treat Kiaran as a feral animal, a creature I’ve accidentally encountered in the wild. One mistake, a single sudden movement, and he’ll respond as if I’m prey. I must never forget that.

‘Is it not?’ I say carefully.

‘Don’t play games with me.’

I say, very carefully, ‘I want to know what manner of man I’m about to die beside on the battlefield.’

Only then do I realise my mistake. I called him a man again.

Kiaran leans in closer to me, the palm of his hand pressing into my shoulder blade. So cold. ‘And there again, you make the human error of so foolishly valuing honour,’ he breathes in my ear. ‘Do you not remember what I told you the night we met?’

The night we met
. What I recall from that night, the night after my mother’s death, is my vivid, blood-pounding need for vengeance. I went into the city with the
seilgflùr
still woven through my hair – still believing it to be nothing but a pretty little adornment, the last thing my mother ever gave me. I carried an iron blade and went out to hunt for the faery who killed her.

When I couldn’t find her, I tried to kill the first faery I met. It was an
each uisge
, the most dangerous breed of water-horse in Scotland.

It nearly drowned me. I remember struggling to breathe, coughing, gasping for air as I tried to free myself from the adhesive hair on its back. I must have gone unconscious, because the next thing I knew, Kiaran was holding me as I coughed up water. When I realised what he was, I tried to sink my knife into his shoulder. My blade shattered.

That day, Kiaran made me a vow. So long as I trained with him, he would never prevent me from seeking vengeance. He told me that some of what I would have to do on my path for retribution wouldn’t be honourable, but it would be necessary.
Necessity before honour. Always
.

‘Aye, I remember,’ I whisper.

He slides a finger along my spine, over the upraised scar from that night. My first badge. My first test. The one that bound us together.

‘You asked me what manner of man I am.’ I close my eyes, wishing he hadn’t noticed I’d called him that. Kiaran is so close now, pressed against me, his breath soft against my neck. ‘I’m someone who has slayed for you, who pulled you from that river, saved your life and taught you all the ways to kill me and mine. But never make the mistake of thinking I’m a man. I aid you because I’ve deemed it necessary to do so. But I don’t value honour.’

I swallow. ‘Then what
do
you value?’ I ask him. ‘Isn’t there anything you’re willing to die for?’

Kiaran doesn’t answer. His arm reaches around me. ‘Look at this.’

Nestled between his thumb and forefinger is a tiny black barb, dripping with my blood. ‘What is it?’

‘A
cù sìth
’s claws are covered in these. It sends a paralysing poison into its victims, so they can’t run.’

‘You never told me that.’

‘I must have forgotten.’ Kiaran doesn’t sound at all apologetic. He turns me to face him and touches my forehead. Instinctively I recoil, but he keeps his hand there. His fingers caress my hairline, feather-light. ‘You’re only immune enough to prevent it from paralysing you,’ he says. ‘It’s still making you sick. Killing you.’ He removes his hand. ‘I’ll have to take out the rest of the barbs.’

‘Right now?’
Do his eyes have to be so intense?

‘I need to gather a few items first,’ he says. ‘I’ll return tonight.’ Before I can protest, he adds, ‘No one will see me come inside.’

I realise how close our faces are, a whisper away. I hold my breath, uncertain if I should pull back, or if he has noticed it, too.

‘Aren’t you frightened?’ I ask. ‘Of the
daoine sìth
escaping the mounds? Of dying?’

I don’t know why I ask him. It’s foolish, and yet I have to know if he fears what will happen as much as I do.

He frowns. ‘No.’

‘Isn’t there anything you fear?’

I want to understand him, to prolong this. He’s always dauntless and inscrutable, yet his rare flashes of emotion betray something deeper, a part of him as yet untouched by apathy.

‘Aye,’ he says. The back of his hand slides across my cheek, cooling the skin there. I move closer.
Tell me. Tell me. Tell
—

Before he can say what he means, a sharp voice cuts through the silence. ‘Get the hell away from my fiancée, you bastard.’

Chapter 23

G
avin stands in the doorway, blue eyes blazing. Until he looks at Kiaran – really looks – and all the blood drains from his face. A very bad word slips softly from his lips.

Dash it all. It’s one thing to catch me carrying a pixie around, but quite another to find me in a rather compromising position with a
daoine sìth
. I shift my body to make sure Gavin can’t see that my dress is open at the back. That would make this situation a great deal worse.

‘Fiancée?’ Kiaran repeats with a raised eyebrow.

‘Oh, hell.’ Gavin breathes the words and I only just hear them.

I glance from Gavin to Kiaran. My face burns. ‘Well,’ I say. ‘Well. This is awkward.’

Kiaran’s lips curve into a smile. Not the genuine almost-smile I’ve come to recognise, but one that scares the daylights out of me. Gone is the impassiveness of mere moments ago. ‘And he’s a
Seer
.’ His statement holds a hint of a threat, spoken in that melodic tone I’ve come to dread. He laughs, and all the fine hairs on my arms rise. ‘Such a rare creature to find these days.’

Gavin takes a single step back, face pale and awash with sheer panic. For a moment, I think he’ll run, until he looks over at me. His body goes still. And I know then that he won’t leave me alone here, even if I wished it. Damn him for trying to protect me again.

He meets Kiaran’s dark gaze. ‘Don’t get any ideas, faery,’ he says. ‘I would be of no use to you.’

‘Gavin,’ I say. ‘Please just—’

‘On the contrary,’ Kiaran says, ignoring me. ‘This is an opportunity I never anticipated.’

In an instant, he rises to his feet and grabs Gavin by the throat, lifting him off the ground so his legs are dangling.

‘MacKay!’

I move to help Gavin, but Kiaran’s power freezes me in place. My limbs are heavy and unresponsive. The stark taste of earth saturates my mouth, sliding thick down my throat. Gavin chokes and gasps for breath.

A memory flashes. My mother, coughing up blood just a moment before death. All while I stood there and watched, too petrified to move. I did nothing then, the same as now.

I fight against the power that holds me. My fingers dig hard into my gloved palms, until my hands are stiff and aching. I try to curse at Kiaran but can’t. My body can make only the barest of movements against his abilities.

‘How very timely this is,’ Kiaran murmurs. ‘I thought every Seer was either dead or in hiding, and yet here you are. Now, what visions do you have for me?’

He touches a finger to Gavin’s temple. Gavin gasps. Then his eyes glaze over and his head lolls back.

I will my tongue and lips to move. ‘Let. Him. Go.’

Kiaran doesn’t even spare me a glance. This is the terrifying Kiaran, the monster under his beautiful skin. ‘Means to an end, Kam. I told you – necessity before honour. Have you learned so little?’

Kiaran’s power is growing stronger, becoming a heavy presence in the room. The temperature has dropped noticeably, and soon I’m breathing white air and my fingers are numb. His power forces its way inside me, a heavy combination of dirt and mud and the overpowering tang of iron. Dots pulse in front of my eyes as I struggle to draw breath.

‘I know there’s at least one vision that keeps a Seer awake at night,’ he says. ‘It will tell me everything I need to know. Show it to me.’

The furniture has begun to lift into the air. The vases on the chimneypiece float away from their places and the settee I’m on is suddenly weightless. My feet leave the ground as it hovers above the Persian carpet.

Gavin has gone limp in Kiaran’s arms.
Please be all right
.
Please be all right
.

‘Stop resisting,’ Kiaran murmurs, pressing his fingers more firmly against Gavin’s temple. ‘You’re trying to distract me.’ Then, he smiles. ‘How sad for you. You couldn’t have saved the girl, you know. That is a certainty. Now give me the real one.’

I watch him, curious now. What is Kiaran looking for? What vision could Gavin possibly have that would interest him?

‘Ah. There it is.’

Everything in the room is silent. Kiaran’s eyes are wide and sightless, watching Gavin’s vision play out. The furniture in the room sways gently in the air. Books float off their shelves and the entire tea service drifts past me. The taste in my mouth is so thick that I can barely swallow.

Finally, Kiaran says, ‘I see.’

He releases Gavin. The settee drops to the floor and almost throws me to the ground. My chest and throat ache from the deluge of power. Vases shatter at the back of the room. Teacups fall around me, a few saved by the thick carpet. Books lie scattered all over the place.

Gavin gasps for breath on his hands and knees. ‘You bastard,’ he manages.

Finding my body back under my control, I go to Gavin and grip his shoulders to steady him. When I look at Kiaran, I’m surprised by his expression. It isn’t smug or arrogant or proud. His brow is furrowed with a hint of concern, quickly gone, replaced by his usual indifference.

Gavin shakes me off and rises to his feet. He snarls a word at Kiaran that makes my eyes widen. ‘If you touch me again,’ he says, ‘I’ll kill you.’

Kiaran slowly looks Gavin over, head to toe. ‘You’re just a Seer.’ He smiles that unpleasant, terrifying smile. ‘I could snap your neck before you raised a hand against me.’

‘MacKay,
stop it
.’

I’d hit him. If I weren’t so blasted sick, I would never have let this happen.

‘Do you love him, Kam?’ Kiaran asks. ‘Does he fit your ridiculous notions of honour? Is he someone worthy enough to die next to?’

Gavin lurches forward. ‘I can’t imagine why she hasn’t killed you already. Trust a faery and die. Every Scot knows that.’

‘Find a Seer and cut out his eyes,’ Kiaran says. ‘Every
faery
knows that.’

‘Enough!’ I step between them. ‘Sit down, both of you.’

Surprisingly, they sit across from one another in silence. Gavin scowls at Kiaran; Kiaran simply stares back. At least a minute ticks by and they both remain quiet. Neither one of them is going to tell me a thing.

‘What was in the blasted vision?’ I’m finally forced to ask.

‘It’s pointless to ask him, Kam,’ Kiaran says. ‘A Seer’s mind – a feeble thing such as it is – has difficulty piecing together visions too far in advance. Too many outcomes and choices that have yet to happen to see it clearly.’ He looks at Gavin. ‘I knew which connections to make to view the whole thing. Yours is a gift wasted on the useless.’

Gavin leans back on the settee, crossing his legs. Sheer bravado, but he’s quite convincing. ‘Tell me, are all the fae raised to be such arrogant cads, or does it come naturally?’

‘Try not to provoke me,’ Kiaran says. ‘Any use you might have had has now expired.’

Gavin looks at me. ‘Why is he here?’

I swipe a hand across my damp forehead and sway on my feet. If I weren’t leaning against the settee, I might have fallen. The illness is getting worse. It’s something I can feel in my bones, a heaviness underneath my burning skin.

When I don’t respond, Gavin studies me intently. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ I want to know what Kiaran saw, but I’m having trouble forming the words. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. ‘MacKay, what—’

‘Not now, Kam,’ Kiaran says abruptly. ‘I’ll take my leave.’ He’s already walking towards the door.

Oh no you don’t
. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, I follow Kiaran out of the room, careful to turn slightly from Gavin so he doesn’t notice the blood on the back of my dress and the undone buttons.

Kiaran is halfway down the hall. I hurry to catch up, ignoring how the quick movement nauseates me. ‘Stop right there, Kiaran MacKay.’ I reach out to grab him. His muscles tense under my fingertips.