The Vanishing Throne (46 page)

“I
hate
them,” she whispers fiercely, tears finally falling onto her cheeks. I wrap my arms around her and she sobs into my shoulder, her tears burning against my skin. “I hate them so much.”

I hold her. I don't know how long she cries. It could be minutes. It could be hours. I hold her, and let her rage. And I whisper to her the whole time. Two simple words: “I know.”

M
Y SLEEP
is filled with fitful dreams plagued by the Cailleach's skeletal face, her withering skin. In my dreams, she whispers in my ear, a constant message.
Now you know why I can't let you live. Now you know why I can't let you live
.

In my dream, Sorcha is there, too. In the background, behind the Cailleach. Always there, always watching, always waiting. Until the part when the Cailleach fades, and Sorcha stands alone in front of me, speaking in her language, words that are thick and throaty and lyrical.

Then something seizes my chest, a pain lancing through me that makes me stagger. And Sorcha laughs and laughs.

I wake with a start, gasping for breath. I'm sweating under the wool blankets, my breathing ragged, my heartbeat unsteady.

“Bad dream?”

I turn, and Sorcha is there, standing between the trees. She wears a long coat of what looks like silk, lined with fur
that goes all the way up to the collar and frames her pale face. She stands out against the snow, her lips a plump red, her eyes so green that they scarcely look real. Sorcha has never looked more beautiful, nor more dangerous.

Crimson suits you best
, says her voice from my memories. I shove that memory away, burying it deep down inside of me, where I hide the parts of myself that leave me the most vulnerable.

She watches me with glittering eyes filled with malice, with murder—and I'm alone with her. The fire has gone out; only empty blankets around the ashes indicate the others were here at all.

My hand slides along my hip for my sword, but it's gone. I shut my eyes briefly.
Damnation
.

Sorcha smiles and pulls the sword from behind her back. “Looking for this?” She tests the edge of the blade with her finger. “It's a lovely one, isn't it? Aithinne always did exceptional work. Of course, you'll no longer be needing it.”

She pulls back and tosses it into the trees, her fae strength sending it flying deep into the forest. Her self-satisfied smirk makes me want to slit her throat.

“If you hurt my friends, I'll—”

“You'll do what? Kill me?” she says with a laugh. “I sent each one off on their very own hunt. I wonder how many will make it out alive. Between us, I'm betting against the blond human girl.”

With a snarl, I shove out of my blankets and throw myself at her—but my body is still too slow from using my powers.
Sorcha has me by the throat before I can even blink. With a sharp-toothed grin she shoves me into a tree.

“Now that wasn't nice, was it?” Sorcha watches me closely. “Look at you. A little less human than the last time I saw you.” Her fingers tighten around my neck and I try not to gag. “That's how Lonnrach found the city, you know. A human using the powers of the Seelie Queen without the skill to conceal it.” She clicks her tongue. “You were like a beacon in a storm, little Falconer. Not even that pixie's shield worked to block that amount of power.”

Human enough
, the Cailleach's voice whispers from my memories. Derrick must have thought he was hiding me when I connected to the
neimhead
, never realizing that some of my energy must have leaked out.
A beacon in a storm
. Damnation.

I shove against her, but she's too blasted strong. “At least you gave up that
I'm just here to help
pretense, because any more of that nonsense and I was going to run you through with something sharp.”

“Oh, but you're wrong,” Sorcha whispers. The
baobhan sìth
's breath is on my neck, and if she wanted, she could drain me of blood in less than a minute. “I can't tell lies, Falconer. I
was
helping. Just not
you
.”

What if I told you I was on your side, Kadamach? That I wanted you to win against my brother?
“Kiaran,” I say softly. “This was all for him.”

“It's
always
been for him,” she says. “Unlike Kadamach, I don't abandon my friends.” She draws a sharp fingernail
down the length of my throat. “You see, if I allowed Lonnrach to capture you again, he would have put you in a place where no one could get to you until he found that crystal, not even me. I couldn't risk him performing the ritual alone, not when the life of myself
and
my consort is at stake.”

Hand to my throat or not, I almost gag when she calls Kiaran her consort. It takes all my training to keep my expression even.

“Yet you were helping the Cailleach.” When she just blinks at me, I say, “For god's sake. You don't strike me as being
that
simpleminded. She wants Kiaran dead every bit as much as Lonnrach does.”

“Ah, the Cailleach.” Sorcha laughs. “To think I once eagerly joined her little crusade to end the Falconer line. But then I met you—the
last
one.” Her fingernail moves back up to my cheek where it almost breaks the skin. “I intended to kill you, but Lonnrach mentioned he had thought of a way to steal your power and take the thrones for himself.

“Then I realized how
I
could use you. The Cailleach ceased to matter.” She flashes her teeth in a frightening smile. “As for Lonnrach, all I had to do was assure him I'd capture
you
while he focused on finding exactly what I needed. My brother is so oblivious. He would make a terrible monarch.”

Her voice isn't as affecting as the last time I saw her, not as beautiful or lulling. My awakened powers must give me the ability to hear beyond the influence of her voice. I feel her in my mind, as if she's seeking to test that. Small, probing tendrils of her power snake across my consciousness.

Sorcha pushes against my mind and I push back. She looks like she loves that.

I grit my teeth against the sudden pain of her fingernail digging into my neck, drawing blood. “And how do you intend to use me?”

“Sorcha wants your powers for herself.” I turn to see Kiaran in the trees, blood splattered across the front of his shirt, blade dripping. He's breathing hard, as if he just slaughtered a small army. “Don't you? Your brother was looking for the
neimhead
to generate enough energy for a power transference, and you've been waiting for him to find it.” He grips his sword hard. “Neither of you will take the Cailleach's place. I'll kill you first, even if it means I'll die with you.”

Sorcha smiles. “Such a low opinion you have of me, Kadamach. When this is over, you'll thank me.”

“Let Kam go, Sorcha,” Kiaran says in a tone he gets before he stabs things. He might stab Sorcha, even if he can't kill her.

“
Kam
.” Sorcha spits the word out as if it's foul. “Is that what you call her?” Her nails dig deeper into the tender skin at my neck and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. Blood blossoms in my mouth and I taste its tang. “Your latest little Falconer pet. It seems this is a lesson I must teach you twice, Kadamach.”

Sorcha pulls me in a rough embrace, and before I can blink, she whisks me away with the speed of a storm.

We are over the cliffs by the sea, so close to where the city once was. Sorcha's arms are tight around me and then we're falling, falling, falling.

She lands us on one of the sea cliffs in the snow, where the waves slam the rocks and spray water into my face. There are fae here,
cù sìth
and redcaps and smaller
mortair
, mechanical creatures with wings and sharp beaks that peck at the ground.

They are digging in the deep ravine that was once a part of the city, the redcaps smashing rocks with their hammers and leaving it to the hounds and metal creatures to dig the rest of the way.

A massive wall of seawater is suspended to one side of them, hovering in the air as if it could fall at any moment. The fae must have cleared away all the buildings in the city—or perhaps most of them were destroyed when the underwater caves were breached. Now they're using their powers to keep the sea at bay as they search for the crystal.

I remember Tavish watching them when they breached the perimeter shortly after my arrival.
They're digging
. I thought—we all thought—they were searching for me. But this is what Lonnrach was after; he wanted the
neimhead
. And I helped lead him right to it.

Lonnrach oversees the digging with a satisfied smile. His salt-white hair blows in the breeze as the sun sets behind him. He looks beautiful, every inch the Seelie faery he once was.

Then it comes, a flash of memory, before I can even think to stop it. Lonnrach's second and third rows of razor-sharp teeth descending.

I freeze.
No. No no no
. I won't go back to this. I won't be his prisoner again. I won't let him take little pieces of me again. I won't let him take the fight out of me.

Sorcha tries to drag me away from the cliffs and I buck hard against her. She briefly loses her grip and I slam the heel of my hand into her face.

“You disgusting little—”

I wrap my fingers around her wrist.
Melt
. I breathe out my power just like I was taught. I command it. I feel it roar in response.
Melt
. I want her to die like the
mortair
. I want to see her disintegrate to ash. I want—

Sorcha's fingernails suddenly dig into my hair. She pulls me up against her. Her nose is bleeding, stark against her pale skin.

Her lips curve into a smile. “That tickled.” She pulls me closer. “As long as I'm bonded to Kadamach, you can't kill me with your powers. You don't have the strength.”

She drags me by my hair across the grass. I try to fight her again—I kick and slam a fist into her gut, but she tightens her hold around my neck, fingernails digging in, drawing blood. She shoves her power into me, and the pain is so acute that I cry out.

Lonnrach turns at my scream. “My lost prisoner.” He glances at his sister. “Took you long enough.”

I hate his voice. I hate the way it makes me feel like I'm right back in the mirrored room at his mercy. I'm on my knees again, unable to fight back. Already I'm starting to tremble, just as I always did whenever he drew near.

“I had three humans, two former monarchs, and an exceedingly angry pixie to deal with.” Sorcha ticks off her fingers. “Could you do better?”

Lonnrach's gaze flickers to the hold Sorcha has on my hair. “I never had to drag her anywhere.” He flashes his teeth at me then, as if to say,
Remember these
? “Everyone has a breaking point, even Falconers.”

“You must not have broken her completely,” Sorcha says, “since she escaped.”

Lonnrach narrows his eyes, then continues to watch the fae dig with the sort of concentration and impatience I wouldn't expect from an immortal—but he's been waiting for this moment.

Sorcha's lips curve into a smile as she leans down, and I catch a glimpse of her smooth fangs. “Watch, Falconer.”

I follow her gaze and see that the fae below have increased their speed. They're tossing aside the muddy rubble, their hands and claws shoveling so fast they're a blur. They're uncovering something. They burrow farther, down and down and down, around an object—a dark pointed rock in the soil.

I catch my breath. It's the crystal.

I hadn't expected it to be so big. It's a magnificent object that is like no gem I've ever seen. Even the most polished of diamonds would never match it in beauty. It gleams like the sea at midnight, even from this distance, with an unearthly internal fire. Thousands upon thousands of flames inside it flicker, glitter, and swirl around each other. They create a light that burns like a beacon.

“It's beautiful.” It isn't until I hear the words that I realize I've spoken aloud.

Sorcha's eyes are ferocious, the anticipation making her fangs elongate until a single drop of blood emerges and snakes its way down her lower lip. She licks it up. “After all those stories,” she murmurs, “we
found
it.”

She's so entranced by the crystal that her hold on my throat slackens and eventually she draws her hand away. She doesn't even look at me. Perhaps she thinks I can't escape, or perhaps she's simply too enthralled. Lonnrach is, too.