The Vanishing Throne (47 page)

The crystal is immense, now at least as tall as any of the tenements in Edinburgh, and the fae still haven't reached the base.

Sorcha looks at me, still wearing that smug smile. “And it was under the pixie kingdom this entire time.”

My mind flashes to the tapestries of Derrick, the battles and blood and death depicted across the walls.

One giant tapestry was older than the others. Derrick wasn't in it. It showed the pixies gathered in battle. A looming figure in the background that I'd thought was a castle. Not a castle after all; it was the giant crystal. The fae were protecting it. And if they hid it, they must have had good reason.

I inch away from Sorcha, backing out of her line of sight as the spectacle below holds her attention. My hand slides to the weapon compartment in the coat Derrick made for me. I had hoped for a small blade, but there's nothing.
Confound it
.

I glance between Lonnrach and Sorcha. They each have a sword, and Sorcha's is hidden under her billowing long coat.

But Lonnrach's is
right there
, within arm's reach.

One step back. Two. Slowly, slowly. The two faeries don't even notice. The deafening sounds of rock and metal grinding as the fae uncover the crystal muffles any crunch my boots make in the grass. I wait until the metal of a
mortair
's beak grinds against the rock, and I snatch Lonnrach's sword from the sheath.

He lunges for me with a shout, but my sword hand is quick. I slash him across the torso. Blood blossoms along his crisp white shirt as he drops to his knees. I almost move in for a killing blow, but I stop myself.

He's not mine to kill.

“
Falconer
.”

Sorcha grabs my coat, but I slam my boot into her thigh. Her grip loosens and I race toward the digging fae, my feet slipping down into the crevasse, my ankle painfully taking my weight. I don't stop, not even when I hear Sorcha's warning shout from above.

The other fae turn to me, their uncanny eyes glowing, and they attack.

My power rushes inside of me in response. It is a brutal force that takes me over, ignites me. My stolen sword becomes an extension of me, burning with flame. I slice through the first redcap that comes at me with a hammer swinging, no effort at all.

The mechanical creatures are on their feet, and one leaps into the air right for me. I slash. Light bursts from my sword and tears through the metal so easily.

Then I hear a shout from above. Aithinne. “Destroy the crystal!”

Destroy it?

More fae attack before I can respond. I slice my sword through the air, plunging into another fae. Everything happens in a blur of movement. With my powers awakened, I am quicker, agile, strong. I'm suddenly aware of Kiaran and Aithinne fighting fae with me.

Their swords slash, their powers scorch through stone. I watch rock strip away and the earth crack open from the force of their blows. A violent storm surges above our heads, created by the fae to fight back. Water breaks from the suspended sea wall in a violent swell that knocks me off my feet.

The crystal
. I have to get to the crystal. I whirl and slice through another fae. My movements are quick as I break for it again, my boots pounding across the uneven earth as I dodge attacks.

But before I can reach it, Sorcha is there, her sword out in a quick arc that nearly guts me. I dodge and parry. But she is agile, much faster than I am.

I slash once, slicing her cheek open. Her fingers touch the injury and she looks surprised.

“Something to remember me by,” I tell her.

She flashes her teeth, licking the blood away, and leaps for me. I whirl, my movements defensive.

With every stroke of my sword, I remind myself that although I may not be able to kill Sorcha with my powers, this sword was forged with fae metal. Her body isn't invulnerable the way Kiaran's is. If I manage a killing blow, Kiaran will die with her through their bond.

I do the only thing I can do: I defend myself against her assault, my sword clanging against hers, releasing sparks of power. I slam it into her to shove her away.

Then I can feel her in my mind. A forceful presence, pressing her way inside of me. “You may have power, Falconer, but I know all the ways to break you.”

Sorcha shows me the girl I once was, the bloody girl by her mother's body. She tries to bring it out of my heart.

She doesn't understand.

I'm not a creature of vengeance anymore. I'm not just the girl whose gift is chaos. I died and came back. I'm the girl who endured.

I knock her off her feet. I slash my sword, almost moving in for a killing blow at her abdomen—

Killing her kills Kiaran
.

The blade changes trajectory at the last second, catching her at the shoulder. I hiss in frustration and she smiles. “Can't kill me, can you, Falconer? You're not ready to lose Kadamach.”

“Stop talking!”

I launch myself at her, but she's on her feet before I can blink, dodging my attack. She's quick. She moves as swift as a feline hunter, twisting away from me as I strike.

She slams into my mind, digging, digging, digging. Not showing me the girl this time, but trying to turn me into her. I stagger back, crying out against the pounding pain at my temples.

While I'm distracted, she knocks the sword out of my hand and slices her blade across my cheek. The wound stings, and I feel blood drip down my neck, a mirror of the injury I gave her.

“Something to remember
me
by,” she whispers. She glances at where Kiaran is fighting the
mortair
. “I hoped he'd come for you.”

I freeze. “What?”

“Bait,” she murmurs. “Part of the plan.”

Bait
. I look over at Kiaran, fighting his way through fae. His power singeing the earth black.
Bait
. She knew they'd come. I open my mouth to scream at him to leave. “Kia—”

Sorcha's fist smashes across my face. I stumble, spitting blood onto the muddy ground. Before I can recover, she grabs me by the arm and throws me. I roll through dirt and smack right into the base of the crystal.

“Kam!”

Sorcha doesn't stop. As if they understand, the other fae rush Kiaran and Aithinne and surround them. Dozens of fae hold them back as Sorcha pulls me up by the neck. She slams me against the crystal.

“I've been waiting for this,” she hisses. “The last Falconer inherits enough of Aithinne's powers that I can amplify them through the
neimhead
. Enough to overpower her.”

I glare up at her, licking blood from my lips. “So you can steal my powers to kill Aithinne?” I say bitterly.

“No, you silly girl. Your powers will revert back to their rightful owner.” Her fingernails dig into my skin, hard enough to bruise. “You see, it was Aithinne who bound the part of Kadamach that made him the Unseelie King. I need her power to reverse it.” Her lips curve into that nightmarish smile. “She made a mistake, putting her powers in human bodies. Bodies that I
can
kill, right down to the last one. And with the crystal's help you'll have just enough of her power to help me unbind it. This ends with you.”

Then she drives her blade through my chest and into the crystal behind me.

Something breaks inside of me. The fae stop fighting as Kiaran sinks to the ground with a scream that cuts to my very soul. Shadows rise from the ground, enveloping him in dark tendrils. He hunches over, his fingers digging into the dirt. The fae around him suddenly keel over, too, dropping to their knees as his power is ripped out of them. Even Sorcha is writhing in agony.

My vision hazes, but I can see how Kiaran's body trembles, how his shoulders shake. The soil breaks, an awful crack of the earth around his palm. The shadows come thicker, darker, until I can't see him. He has no shape; he's become enveloped.

“No,” Aithinne whispers, rushing to me. Her eyes are wet as she looks helplessly down at the sword. “Falconer. I can't heal this.” Her voice breaks.

I can't speak. I feel lightheaded, dizzy, as though I'm floating. I fight to keep living. But I can't. I feel myself leaving my body, the same way I did when Kiaran put me into the sea. Floating . . . floating.

The shadows clear, and Kiaran looks up. As I take my last breath, I meet his dark, hungry gaze, and I know he isn't Kiaran anymore. He's the Unseelie King.

I
AM STANDING
on the top of a cliff at sunset. Far, far below me, waves crash against the rock in a soothing rhythm. The spray is cool against my skin; it smells crisp, of salt mixed with the scent of heather on the air.

Trees stretch along the top of the cliffs on either side of me. The colors are like autumn in Scotland, red and orange hued, only much more vivid. It's as though the entire coastline is aflame.

Where am I?

The thought is fleeting, replaced by calm. It's so still and serene here. At the horizon, the deep turquoise seawater meets the blazing sky. As the sun dips lower, the firelike clouds only grow more intense. The astonishing hues like deep slashes of paint. I close my eyes briefly against the lovely warmth of it.

I sense another presence behind me, a sudden familiar sensation of cold fingertips down my spine. Not menacing like last time; not a threat. A reminder.

She
is here.

I don't turn as she moves to stand beside me on the cliff. Out of the corner of my eye I notice her face doesn't change this time. It remains skeletal, her skin weathered and old. Her cloak of shadows wraps deep and dark around her.

Suddenly I remember everything. Sorcha driving the sword through me and into the crystal. Pain lances through the center of my chest where the blade sliced through bone. I press my hand there. I let the ache settle until I can think clearly.

Kiaran
. His dark, hungry gaze as his bound powers surged back inside of him. Now he'll need the Wild Hunt to survive again.

Don't you ever feel cursed?

Every day
.

He's back in the human realm bearing the weight of his curse and I'm . . . I'm . . .

Falconer. I can't heal this
.

Tears prick the back of my eyes. “You're not just visiting me in a dream again, are you?”

“No,
mo nighean
.”

I laugh bitterly. “I suppose you got your wish then, didn't you? I'm really dead this time. Aithinne has her powers back. Did you come to gloat?”

“I came to make you an offer,” the Cailleach says softly. She sounds so weak, her voice shaking.

“Then I refuse,” I tell her. “Make all the threats you want. I don't want your truth.”

This time I meet her ancient, skeletal gaze. I'm surprised by the sadness there, the unease. The Cailleach has lived for thousands of lifetimes. She created the land. She formed the realms. And she's fading just like I am. Like a human.

In the end, we are all the stag
.

“It isn't truth I offer,
mo nighean
. Not this time.”

I'm almost afraid to ask. “Then what?”

“I created your world and mine,” she says. “When I die, the realms will fracture. It's already begun in the
Sìth-bhrùth
. You've seen this.”

“Aye.”

“My children have refused my powers,” she says quietly. “I must have a vessel to pass them on to. I'm offering them to you.”

I look at her sharply. I'd be shocked if I weren't so suspicious. The fae don't offer anything without a price. The Cailleach threatened to kill my family last time. She tried to kill
me
. “Why would you do that?”
Why should I trust you?

Now she looks bitter. “You are my only blood.”

“I see. You're dying and I'm your last chance at passing on your legacy.”

“I am selfish,
mo nighean
,” she says tightly. “So are you. You wish to return to your human friends, and I'm offering you another chance at life. Do you know how rare it is for a human to come back from the dead twice?”

The Cailleach tried to kill me once before. I can't trust her that easily. “What's the price?”

When she looks away, I almost laugh again. Of course there's a price. There's always a consequence when the natural order is disrupted. I know that better than anyone. Not even the Cailleach herself can change it.

“I can bring you back to life,” she tells me, “but eventually my powers will kill you.”

“So I'll be dead either way. Why would I take that offer?”

Her lips tighten to a thin line. I notice how her shoulders tremble, as if she's barely managing to stay standing. “Ask my daughter about
leabhar cuimhne
. The book of remembrance. If you find it, you can remove the curse. This is my final gift to them.” Her gaze drops to the ocean below.

“The curse?” I ask.

“My daughter will explain,” she gasps. “Accept the offer, child.”

I would be foolish to believe her and yet . . . god help me, I'm tempted. “And if I don't?”

“Our realms will be destroyed.” I can barely hear her. Each word is spoken in a soft breath, as if it pains her. The Cailleach suddenly looks much weaker. She's fading fast. “The book was lost when the old kingdom fell. You have to find it,” she whispers, her voice fading. “The worthy can find the door.”

Worthy
? “Wait. Where's the door? What door?”

But she's withering, her skin flicking away from the bones of her face. Her eyes are sinking in. She's dying, her body decaying and shrinking like a corpse.