The Falconer (Elizabeth May) (26 page)

He stares at me in shock. A startling display of emotion for Kiaran.

I lean back in my chair, my anger sated. I believe I’ve proved my point. Again. ‘My shot wouldn’t have killed you, but I imagine that’s still quite painful.’

I don’t know what I expected from him. Annoyance, perhaps. Maybe for him to frown in displeasure and call me a fool again. What I didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. Not the melodic, too-beautiful fae laughter he uses to intimidate me, but genuine laughter that dimples his cheeks and actually makes him look human.

‘What’s so funny?’

Kiaran straightens. ‘When you picked up that pistol, I never expected you to shoot me.’

I smile and laugh, too. ‘Didn’t you always say never to draw a weapon unless I intend to use it?’

‘So you
do
listen to what I say.’

‘When it suits me.’

Kiaran surprises me by moving too fast again, shoving my chair back from the table. Then he leans in, his arms on either side of me. ‘That might have amused me this time, but try it again and I’ll break your pistol.’

I match his stare. ‘Break my pistol and I have about fifteen other weapons that will do the same job.’

His grin is slow, downright seductive. ‘I knew it since the day I pulled you out of that river.’

‘What?’

‘That you would always challenge me.’

Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, I turn my head and study his injury. The burn on his palm is healing over, and the Lichtenberg figure is slowly disappearing back down his arm.

I frown as the fernlike pattern reveals a brand on the inside of his wrist. I don’t remember ever seeing it before, or perhaps I’ve just never paid enough attention to notice. The design is burned into his skin, the scarified flesh upraised. An elaborate series of swirls, intertwined with each other, delicate and intricate. Whoever designed this had been painstaking in its detail. The shape is something I’m unable to identify, a symbol I’ve never seen.

Only fae metal can leave permanent scarring – and even then, only faintly. To make scars like these, the lines would have had to be traced over and over again with a sharp, burning-hot blade. It must have hurt a great deal while it was being carved. Compelled, I reach out to touch it.

Kiaran wraps his fingers around my wrist. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Your brand. What does it mean?’

Something flashes in his eyes, an emotion I can’t identify. After a second, it’s gone. He releases me. ‘It doesn’t mean a damn thing any more.’

I’m beginning to realise how much our secrets define us. A few days ago, he and I would have hunted together and returned to our respective lives, the same as always. Now our boundaries are fading, and we grasp those last few secrets we still do have, because baring one’s soul is so much more difficult than pretending.

‘All right,’ I say calmly, tugging my hand from his.

As if realising he’s betrayed some emotion, he straightens and stares down at me. ‘Come with me.’

I blink. ‘Where?’

‘Must you question everything?’

‘Aye,’ I say. ‘It delights me to annoy you whenever possible.’

His mouth quirks upwards. ‘I’ve noticed.’

Chapter 26

K
iaran and I sit silently in the ornithopter as I fly us through the clear night sky. The cold air up here sears my skin and I pull my raploch coat tighter around me. I rest my hand on the helm and watch the ground slip by below us. We soar over the countryside beyond the city, where everything is still and quiet. Houses are sparse, identifiable only by the dim candlelight shining through occasional windows amid the dark farmland.

Kiaran hasn’t spoken a word to me since we left Charlotte Square, as if he senses how badly I want to ask him about the girl he loved and what happened to her.

I look over at him, taking in his features, his pensive expression. I try to imagine him as an unrepentant monster like the fae I kill. What was it about
her
that made him change? I would never have thought the
sìthichean
to be capable of falling in love with humans. Predators don’t come to love their prey.

Before I can ask, Kiaran speaks. ‘Set us down there – by that dismal-looking residence.’

I peer over the helm. ‘Dalkeith Palace?’

At his nod, I swing the helm, circling the clearing until I find the perfect place for us to land.
There
– behind a line of trees that should shield us from view of the palace windows, if anyone happens to look out while we’re here. The machine settles softly onto the ground and I pull the lever to retract the wings.

‘We’re not going to break in, are we?’

Kiaran glances in the direction of the palace in disgust. ‘I can’t imagine there’d be anything in there worth trespassing for.’

‘Perhaps His Grace has empty vases on one of his many chimneypieces,’ I say drily, ‘which you can steal to replace the ones you accidentally broke in my home.’

‘That wasn’t an accident. I decided I didn’t like them.’ He hops out of the ornithopter and begins to stride away.

I hurry after him across the grass, jogging to keep up with his long strides. We head through the trees and over the dirt drive in front of the palace. It’s a tall, majestic structure – not at all dismal-looking to my eye – of sandstone brick with a generous assemblage of tall windows. Chimneys jut into the sky along the roof, a small indication of the many rooms inside, but smoke rises from only a single stack at the back of the palace. Someone must be home, then. The scent of burned wood lingers faintly in the air as I follow Kiaran through a forested area along the side of the east wing.

My boots squish into mud as I try to carefully guide myself around the tree roots. ‘Any chance you might tell me where we’re going?’

Kiaran’s smile is visible even between the dark trees. ‘You truly loathe being kept in suspense, don’t you?’

‘When you keep me in suspense, something bad always happens. Like me battling two redcaps.’

‘There was no terrible outcome,’ he says, glancing over at me. ‘You survived with minimal damage.’

The night is brisk. Cold penetrates my coat and lingers on my skin. I cross my arms to keep warm. We walk without speaking, my breathing heavy compared to Kiaran’s. As we continue further into the trees, fog begins to thicken around us. Soon I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me and we’re on no path that I can discern. It would be so easy to get lost out here.

Kiaran’s voice startles me. ‘Tell me about the Seer. Do you love him?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘We’re just to be married.’

I might have loved Gavin once, in my youth. I used to be convinced that he and I would be together for the rest of our lives. Now I’ve discovered that he’s the perfect match for me – far more so than I could ever have possibly dreamed – but all I feel for him is platonic affection. No passion. No love, not any more. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of love now.

‘What, exactly, is the purpose of pledging your life to someone you don’t want?’

‘Duty first,’ I say bitterly. ‘That’s what my father always says. Few ladies who shame their families are lucky enough to receive an offer from the gentleman who helped ruin her.’

He goes deadly calm. ‘Ruined you, did he?’

‘Of course not. He saved my life last night and fate was not kind to him for it.’

‘Couldn’t you choose not to marry him?’ he asks. ‘If you didn’t want it?’

‘Women in my world don’t have many choices, MacKay. My life has already been decided for me.’

‘Such a prison you live in,’ he murmurs without a hint of sarcasm. ‘I wonder how you breathe.’

The fog finally dissipates as we approach a clearing. We step through the long grass and I tilt my head back, studying the stars.
Can you name them, Aileana?
I hear my mother’s voice, from those nights we spent in the garden reciting the constellations.

Clear skies are such a rare occurrence during Scottish winters, and I remember every single one from my childhood. Invention is my hobby, and astronomy was my mother’s. Every time I look at a cloudless night sky, I recall her pointing to each of the constellations with her long, graceful fingers and repeating their names.

I realise I’ve stopped walking and hurry after Kiaran. ‘Sorry.’

The moon is so bright, it illuminates everything as we advance through the clearing. A sudden taste bursts on my tongue, surprising me. It’s not the overwhelming flavour of fae power that I’m used to, but something of a different kind. A subtle hint of terracotta, accompanied by the scent of spring and salt, as if we were closer to the sea.

I scan the clearing for the source of the fragrance, which only grows stronger as we walk, and my attention is drawn to the massive yew tree rising from the middle of the clearing. It towers over us, branches splitting off in every direction. Heavy roots stick out of the ground. It’s the tallest tree of its type I’ve ever seen.

I peer into the branches. ‘I don’t remember hearing about His Grace having a yew tree of this size on his property. Surely someone would have mentioned it.’ It isn’t until I touch the trunk and the taste intensifies that I realise the tree is its source. Why on earth would a tree have such power?

‘It’s hidden from humans,’ Kiaran says, stepping up beside me. ‘You can only see it because you’re wearing the thistle.’ He lays his palm flat against the trunk.

‘What are you doing?’

He almost smiles. ‘You didn’t really think I brought you all the way out here just to see a tree, did you?’

Before I can respond, he slams his fist against the trunk. A jarring boom resounds and the ground shakes under my feet. Lightning scatters wide across the cloudless sky, blindingly bright. A bolt strikes the centre of the tree with a vivid flash.

I stumble back, closing my eyes hard against the onslaught of light. A loud, reverberating crack startles me enough to risk opening them again. I watch as the tree trunk splinters right down the middle. Branches bow to the ground on either side, leaving a gaping hole in the heart of the tree. Roots pull out of the soil and curl around each other, shaping themselves into steps.

Between the two halves of the tree, a mirror forms and undulates like water. I see my reflection there, obscured by ceaseless ripples.

‘What is it?’ I whisper.

‘The
clomhsadh
,’ Kiaran says. ‘Let me show you.’

A faery passage. My hand automatically reaches for the lightning pistol in its holster at my waist. Why would he bring me here, if not to fight? I meet his eyes then. I wish there was some indication of his intent there, no matter how small, but I find nothing.

With a shiver of anticipation running down my spine, I follow Kiaran up the rooted stairs. At the top, I pause to check my weapon once more before I step through the portal.

Beyond the
clomhsadh
is a loch. Kiaran and I are on a sandy beach surrounded by trees that tower so high they touch the thick clouds overhead. The loch itself is still as ice. Mist curls off the surface of the water to flow around my feet and up my legs and arms. The air here is electric, so alive I could swear I hear it whisper, but so softly that I can’t make out the words. I watch the soft, pulsing glow of the loch as the surface gleams and changes colour, from aqua, to dark crimson, to glittering gold.

The stars are visible between the clouds – God, I’ve never seen them so bright. They glitter in elaborate, alien constellations, swirling as though blown by a breeze.

The air is fragrant, floral, sharp and sweet at the same time. And the taste here – it’s like Kiaran’s, with the same wild fierceness of his power.

‘Where are we?’

Kiaran’s eyes are luminous, even more uncanny than usual, and his exquisite skin glows softly, as though kissed by moonlight. It’s as if I’m finally seeing him clearly, the way he
should
be. He has never looked more beautiful, or more inhuman. ‘The
Sìth-bhrùth
.’

No wonder everything looks so different here. We’re in the faery realm. I draw my lightning pistol, expecting hostile fae at any moment. ‘Why would you bring me here?’ I ask, scanning the line of trees for any movement with my finger firm on the trigger.

‘There are several realms within the
Sìth-bhrùth
, Kam,’ he says. ‘This one used to be neutral ground, the only place where conflict was never allowed.’ He looks out over the loch. ‘You can put the weapon away. We’re safe here.’

I’m not convinced. ‘I know how this works, MacKay,’ I say. ‘I’ve heard the stories. Faeries bring humans here for what feels like a few hours, but when they leave, years have gone by in the human world.’

Kiaran almost smiles. ‘I’ll keep track of the time – you’ll be home by morning.’

With a resigned sigh, I holster the pistol and step forward. My boots sink into the soft sand at the water’s edge. ‘Fine. So what’s beyond the loch?’

‘The two largest territories: Seelie and Unseelie. They’ve been abandoned for two thousand years.’ He frowns, as if he’s remembering something long forgotten. ‘After the war, the only
sìthichean
left behind here were those from the smaller realms that had refused to fight. Most of them crossed into the human realm after the others were imprisoned.’

Those are the creatures I kill almost every night. With the strongest fae trapped, the weaker, solitary faeries had their pick of any humans they wanted. A veritable banquet. No wonder they didn’t want to stay in the
Sìth-bhrùth
.

‘What will happen to this place?’

‘I imagine those in the mounds will return to their home realms if we’re unable to trap them beneath the city again.’

If we fail
, he means. I can barely allow myself to contemplate it. If I do, the burden will become more than I can handle, a terrible crushing thing. Two against hundreds, with no way of evacuating the city. We are all that stands between the fae and complete destruction. The very thought makes me want to run and never look back.

‘Aren’t you worried?’ I ask. ‘Shouldn’t we be finding the seal or amassing weapons? We ought to be preparing, MacKay, not wasting precious hours in the human world by being here.’