The Vanishing Throne (40 page)

And I'm starting to wonder if he was ever truly mine to want.

“Catríona,” Kiaran breathes, in a way that makes my heart ache. “That was her name.”

Her name rolls smoothly across his tongue like water. He says it reverently. He says it like he's repeated it every day of his life.
Catríona Catríona Catríona
.

“It's a beautiful name,” I tell him. I try to keep my tone even.

He's not listening to me. He's still caught in his memory. “I vowed that I'd never take another human life. So I asked my sister to—” He glances at me. “But you know the rest.”

“Aye,” I say quietly.

The kingdoms fell anyway, and he and Aithinne were the cause. God, the burdens they carry. Knowing that the choices they made for themselves—the ones that went against the Cailleach's designs for them—were the very things that destroyed everything. And yet the very things that made him Kiaran.

He is so close, I can feel his warmth again. I try to shut out everything the Cailleach showed me, everything I've just heard. I want to forget how he feels about Catríona and the
things he sacrificed because she left him with that small piece of humanity. I want him to help me forget it.

Then he touches my shoulder and I shrink back, because I can't pretend. “No,” I say softly. “I'm not her.” I shove the chair away from the table. I put distance between us, drawing nearer to the door, but it's not far enough. “I won't be your replacement for her.”

He's there in an instant. He grips my arms and turns me roughly. His eyes blaze. They have an uncanny glow, one I didn't perceive before with my human sight. It's mesmerizing. “Is
that
what you think? That you're her replacement?”

I try to pull away, but he draws me closer. “What else am I supposed to think? She and I are both Falconers.”

“That doesn't mean anything to me,” Kiaran says. He presses his warm hand to my cheek. “What you are never mattered. I want you because I never feel more alive than when I'm with you. I want
you
, Kam.”

Then his lips crush against mine and he's kissing me. God help me, but I kiss him back. I press my body to his and—

No
. I need to know. “Do you love me?” I whisper against his lips. “Like you loved her?”

Kiaran pulls back—and his sharp intake of breath tells me all I need to know. “Kam.”

I jerk away, trying to ignore the surprise and hurt on his face. He reaches for me but I evade him. “I can't,” I whisper. “I can't do this. I need to go.”

I stride out the door.

I
WALK THROUGH
the cavern and onto the dark beach. I need to think things through. I'm surprised to see Aithinne wading in the water, her feet barely touched by the foamy ocean waves as they roll in. She has her trousers rolled up, calves bare. Her coat sways behind her, and her hair is wild and free and long.

The moon casts its light across the surf in a trail that leads right to her, and Aithinne's skin seems to glow in response. Now that I have the Sight, I see she shines, as if her skin were made of opal.

The air is brisk, even more so than it was when I was here before I died. But the chill doesn't bother me; the hum of power beneath my skin spreads warmth through my veins. The wind has died down, leaving everything still. There is nothing but calm swells and the crackle of rocks rolling against each other as they move with the waves.

I pull my coat tighter around me and move to sit on the beach not far from where Aithinne stands in the water, a safe distance from the tide. I don't venture any closer. Getting soaked through once today is quite enough for me.

“I see you were completely serious when you said you loved the water,” I say.

Aithinne doesn't answer for a long time, just tips back her head to the moonlight. Finally, she steps onto the beach, moving gracefully over the pebbles as she comes to sit next to me.

I can't help but notice the number of stitches along her arms. Though finely sewn—apparently Derrick won't do less than perfect stitching under any circumstances—the dark thread contrasts with the pale glow of her skin. So many cuts. Dozens.

“There's something special about the sea, isn't there?” she asks, her voice startling me. “My kind always believed it could reveal hidden things.” She glances at me. “Even your deepest fears.”

“Is that so?” I say flatly. I'd rather forget what it was like to drown, what I saw on the other side. I'm haunted by the voices calling my name, by the feel of their hands grasping my clothes to keep me there.

“If we were feeling particularly brave,” she says, “we would submerge ourselves in the water and whisper
innis dhomh. Tell me
. The waves would show us our past, our future—secrets that affected our lives. Sometimes they tell us things we wish they hadn't.”

“Aithinne,” I say. “You're dancing around a question. Just say it.”

“Not a question; an observation. You've had a conflicted look about you since we met through the veil. At first I thought it had to do with my mother trying to murder you, but . . .”

I stare out at the ocean and try not to think about Kiaran.

Do you love me? Like you loved her?

Kiaran left a mark on me. It's not physical, not like Lonnrach's. It's as if when my memories were emptied, my mind filled with pieces of Kiaran,
feelings
that kept me sane in the mirrored room. He did it without realizing and I let him without realizing. God, how I wish I hadn't.

“Falconer?”

“Why didn't you want the throne?” I ask abruptly.

She shrugs. “It was all battles, fights, and court. Humans are far more exciting. You have colorful swearwords and
cake
—”

“Aithinne. Now you're dancing around an answer.”

She's quiet as she watches the waves come in and out, as if the ocean were breathing. “I've always known it would come down to Kadamach or me,” she says. “I couldn't hurt him. I thought I could once, but . . .” Aithinne shrugs. “So I accepted that I would be the one to die.”

I look at her, and I don't see the Aithinne from the bonfire, the faery who told the first Falconers to seek their vengeance and make her brother pay. Aithinne wasn't hardened by war; she was
humanized
by it. After everything Kiaran did, she still loved him. She never stopped.

I don't say anything. I'm afraid that if I do I'll say the wrong thing or she'll stop speaking. There's so much more I want to know about their past.

Aithinne tips her face to the moon again. “Kadamach and I were created together, you know. Our minds were once indistinguishable.” Her expression hardens. “Then we were separated, raised in different kingdoms, and trained to destroy each other. When he killed my subjects on the battlefield, I knew he would come for me next.”

“So you created the Falconers,” I say.

“The Falconers, the
mortair
,” she says softly. “I built an army to send against him. Only Kadamach and I had the power to kill each other”—her voice turns harsh—“but I wanted his kingdom devastated for the grief he caused mine.”

“The Cailleach showed me what he did.” I watch the waves go in and out and try not to remember. I can't. “Where he started the battle. I wish I could forget.”

“I know what you saw,” she says quietly. “It was the very thing that drove me to create your kind.”

“But you never killed him. Why?” I would have hunted him for what he'd done. I would have savored finding him and murdering him.

“I couldn't do it,” she whispers. “I didn't hate him enough. I thought I did, but when he asked for my help . . .” She looks at me. “We had just spent so long at war that we couldn't remember anything else.”

I press my shoulder to hers. She gives me a grateful smile. “I can feel him
here
again”—she taps her temple—“and we haven't been connected like that in so long. After everything we've been through, I won't betray him. Not when I've just
got him back. I want us to have a thousand more years to make up for all the time we lost.”

“We'll find a way to save the realms without either of you dying,” I tell her. It's the only thing I can say. I can't tell her to choose—I can't
let
her choose. “I swear it.”

Is she going to cry? I don't believe I've ever made a faery cry before—except Derrick, and that was only while I was reading him
A Christmas Carol
and Scrooge stopped being a bastard; Derrick said he had something in his eye.

“Really?”

“We're friends,” I say firmly. “You stood up to your maniacal mother—”

“Homicidal,” Aithinne interrupts. “Why mince words?”

“—to aid me. I'm returning the favor. You'll just have to let me help you. Such a hardship, I realize.”

Aithinne smiles. “I want you to know, I never regretted creating the Falconers. Whatever power I lost . . . it made me feel a little more human.”

“It's too bad we all die young,” I say lightly. “You'll have it all back when I'm gone.”

Aithinne doesn't avert her gaze. Her irises whirl like melted steel. “Aye. And that is my only regret.” She sighs. “I still need to rest after today. I'm not feeling at all like my usual self. Will you be all right?”

I nod. “I just need a few minutes.”

Aithinne leaves me there, her footsteps quiet in the sand as she retreats back into the cave.

I stay on the beach and watch the way the waves breathe, how the rocks press and roll against each other with a groan like a ship rocking at sea. Eventually, my power ebbs and fades on its own, leaving my skin cold again. The frigid wind picks up and I'm forced to leave for the warmth of the city.

I make my way to the cave and notice a silhouette at the lip of the cavern. Kiaran. “Let me guess,” I say, drawing nearer, “your sister told you where to find me.”

His smile isn't visible in the darkness, but I can hear it when he speaks. “On the contrary,” he says. “She told me I looked like I needed fresh air. It wasn't until I saw you that I realized she decided to engage in her second-favorite hobby.”

“Subterfuge?”

“I was going to say meddling, but you're not wrong.”

Kiaran steps forward and I back away from him before I even realize. Just like that, the smile I didn't need to see is gone entirely—I can sense it by the way his body goes still. I wish I could see his expression. It's too damn dark, even with my new vision.

“Kam.”

“
Don't
.” I put a hand up and walk past him into the cave. The flickering lanterns illuminate the passage back into the city. “There's really nothing to explain.”

Before I blink, Kiaran is standing right in front of me, blocking me from going further. God, were his eyes always that bright? That beautiful?

“You didn't give me a chance to answer before,” he says. “If you had, I would have told you there was no comparison.”

Hesitantly, he reaches for me. His fingers trail to my neck, tracing a path to my shoulder. I shut my eyes at the sensation, the way he touches me as if he can't get enough of it.

“Is that all?” I try to keep my voice steady.

Kiaran moves in closer, sliding his hand gently up the back of my neck. “I never fought by her side. I never faced an army with her and marveled at how exquisite she was in battle. I never tended to her injuries or watched the stars with her or went out of my mind trying to find her.” His forehead presses against mine and I can't think, I can't move, I can't breathe. “I want you, Kam. And I should have told you that so many times. I should have told you that in the
Sìth-bhrùth
.
”

I break into a smile. “I thought Lonnrach had created you, remember? I wouldn't have believed a word of it.”

Kiaran smiles back. “I would have found a way to convince you. First by using my language:
Tha gaol agam ort le m' uile chridhe
, Kam.” He breathes the words against my skin. “Then I would have translated it and said that I lo—”

I press my lips hard against his. “No declarations. No theatrics.” I rise on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear. “You made me a promise, MacKay. Show me what I mean to you.”

“Your room. Now.” He sounds almost breathless.

Then he takes my hand, and he's pulling me through the cavern back into the city, past the flickering street lamps and into the dark closes. This late at night the streets are almost
empty, just as they were in Edinburgh. My heart slams as I lead him onto my balcony and then into my room. The door closes with a click. No sign of Derrick, thank god.