The Falconer (Elizabeth May) (23 page)

‘Aye?’ He sounds so formal, so polite.

‘Tell me what you saw.’

He hesitates, reaching for me as if to touch my face. At the last second, he drops his hand. ‘Your friend’s head was full of a great many uninteresting things.’

Kiaran can come up with a better version than that. He’s a master at the faery half-lie. What could he have seen, that would affect him this way?

‘That’s not an answer,’ I say.

Wordlessly, Kiaran steps behind me. Before I can ask what he intends to do, he begins to button up my dress.

It shouldn’t affect me the way it does. Kiaran’s behaviour is no different from usual. Still, there was that moment before Gavin came in when I swear he was going to say . . .
something
. Kiaran MacKay is a mystery I wish I could solve.

He’s so quiet, nothing but the whisper of his breath to indicate he’s there. Finally, he says, ‘I saw a lot of death.’

I go still. ‘What else?’

His fingers linger in a feather-light caress at the nape of my neck. ‘Do you think knowing makes it easier?’ he whispers. ‘You would try so desperately to prevent it, and every conscious decision you make would only help the vision come to pass.’

Kiaran speaks the last words so softly, I barely hear him. I’ve grown so used to the formal, passionless Kiaran that even the slightest indication of remorse is so clear: Kiaran tried to prevent a Seer’s vision once and failed.

I have so many questions, but I decide on the one I’m only vaguely sure he’ll answer. ‘Then why did you want so badly to see it?’

‘A decision made just before the vision is complete can alter the outcome.’

‘And what if it doesn’t?’

‘That would be unfortunate.’ Kiaran fastens the last button and turns me to face him. Any hint of emotion is already gone. ‘I need to go and fetch my supplies before you die. I’ll be a few hours.’

My God, it’s as if he deliberately ruins every opportunity for an intimate moment between us. ‘Well. I’ll certainly try to survive until then.’

I think I hear his breath hitch. ‘
Gabhaidh mi mo chead dhiot
,’ he murmurs. He’s said that to me so many times before. His goodbye.

Kiaran strides past me down the corridor. I don’t watch him leave. I step into the drawing room and grope for my shawl. It’ll do for covering up the blood on my dress.

I wince at the state of the room. The floor is littered with books and broken teacups and shattered porcelain vases. A statue of Venus lies on the carpet with its arm lopped off. If I get all of the broken items cleaned up and thrown away, perhaps Father won’t notice they’re missing. And maybe he’ll think the armless statue has character.

‘Well, I can safely say that I’ve never experienced a more exciting two days,’ Gavin says, jarring me from my thoughts. ‘I suppose I should send a note before visiting again. “Are you in the company of any creature liable to attack me unprovoked? I can visit later.”’

I leave the door open an inch out of habit. Some etiquette rules are hard to forget even when a certain faery doesn’t bother to observe them. ‘It would help if you didn’t barge in unannounced.’

Gavin leans against the arm of the settee and picks up a book that has fallen there. He tosses it to the floor, apparently not the least bit interested in the wreckage. ‘The front door was open, your butler was nowhere in sight and I heard voices. Who the hell was that?’

‘Kiaran MacKay.’ I sink back onto the settee. ‘Most of what you saw last night I learned from him.’

Gavin pulls out a small flask from his coat pocket and takes a deep drink. ‘Is that right? The fellow teaches you to slaughter his own kind and you don’t believe that’s a wee bit worthy of suspicion?’

Thank God the tea dispenser has survived its plummet to the floor. I right it and press the button to brew more tea, then fill one of the few unbroken teacups. ‘If you’re asking me whether I trust him, the answer is no.’

‘Now
that’s
reassuring. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have a pixie who ate all my honey and a faery visitor who very nearly throttled the life out of me. Has anyone ever told you that you keep truly terrible company?’

I can’t help but smile. ‘I hope you realise that includes you?’

‘At least you can count on me not to threaten your guests.’ He takes another pull from his flask and smirks. ‘Unlike your bad-tempered faery friend. So what
were
you doing with him when I arrived? It looked cosy.’

‘Kiaran was . . . helping me.’

‘Was there something near your mouth that required such focused attention?’

I all but choke on my tea. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘You were about this close –’ he holds up two fingers, a hair’s breadth apart ‘– from rubbing noses.’

I glare at him. ‘Are you going to tell me anything about your vision? Surely you must have seen something of what Kiaran saw. Or are you going to pretend it never happened?’

Gavin’s body goes still. A muscle tics in his jaw. ‘You know,’ he says carefully, ‘that’s a capital idea. Let’s pretend, shall we?’

‘Gavin,’ I say softly.

‘Don’t,’ he tells me. ‘Just don’t. I haven’t seen much yet. And if I’m to be entirely honest with you, I don’t want to. What little I have seen—’ He downs more whisky.

‘Is it about me?’ I ask quietly. ‘I think I deserve to know that much, at least.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head then. ‘I don’t know. I can only see the end of the vision now, not what leads up to it. The faery was blocking me from viewing it with him.’

Of course Kiaran was. ‘Then how does it end?’

‘I have nightmares about it. It’s kept me awake nearly every night for the last week, and it’s not something I want to discuss.’ He sighs. ‘It’s my burden, Aileana. I shouldn’t share it with you.’

Both of us are silent then. I look over at the window and watch as the sky grows darker and darker. The clouds are gathered thick and dark above the trees, swathed in the vivid colours of the setting sun. The rain continues to patter hard on the windowsill, the carpet beneath it soaked through now.

Across from me, I notice Gavin shiver and move over on the settee, closer to the fireplace. I don’t feel the cold. My head is burning and I swipe more sweat from my brow, ignoring the dull headache pounding my temples.

Finally, I bring up the topic I’ve been dreading. ‘You called me your fiancée. You offered for me.’

‘I did,’ he says softly.

I reach over the table between us and take his hand. ‘You were under no obligation to do that.’

He doesn’t look at me. The dark clouds are reflected in his eyes as he watches the rainfall. ‘I was in a position to save your reputation, so I did. It infuriated Mother.’

The way he says it annoys me. ‘You pitied me, didn’t you?’

Gavin shakes his head and absently strokes a finger across my wrist. ‘Is that what you think? That I did this out of pity?’

‘What am I supposed to think?’

‘You’re my friend,’ he says, eyes searching my face. ‘Do you truly believe I could leave you like that? Wouldn’t you have done the same for me?’

He would risk his life for my reputation – that fragile, superficial thing I’ve managed to shatter beyond repair. He knows the implications if we marry. As a lone Seer, he could go into hiding somewhere, the way the others did. By staying with me, we would never be free of the fae. Gavin’s Sight doesn’t come with the Falconer skills I have to defend myself, and I won’t always be around to protect him.

‘If we ever have a bairn,’ I say quietly, ‘you know what would happen. Our daughter . . . she would be like me. A Falconer.’

Gavin grasps my hand hard then. ‘And our son would be a Seer.’

We stare at each other, with the full weight of our circumstance weighing down on us. I want to be the last of my kind, so I never have to pass such a burden on to a child. How could I possibly marry and bring a child into this world, knowing it will be hunted?

‘Gavin, I—’

Lady Cassilis’s shrill voice resounds from the hallway. ‘What do you mean, my son is not here?’

Gavin groans. ‘Dear God,’ he says. ‘Save me.’

‘Mother,’ I hear Catherine say gently, ‘I’m certain there is an explanation for this.’

‘I know he came here,’ Lady Cassilis says, ignoring Catherine. ‘I demand to speak with my son at once.’

There is a rap on the drawing room door and MacNab pokes in his bearded head. His eyes widen at the mess Kiaran made, but he wisely remains silent about that. ‘Lady Aileana. There is—’ He sees Gavin and breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, Lord Galloway, I hadn’t realised you were here. Do forgive me for not welcoming you.’

‘Not of import,’ Gavin says. ‘If you tell my mother I’m not here, I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Hush,’ I tell him. ‘MacNab, please show in the viscountess and Miss Stewart.’ Might as well get this over with now.

I glance around in dismay. It’s not at all proper for the viscountess to see the room in such a state, but I don’t think I’ll be able to escort her elsewhere. My body has begun to ache, and the pounding in my head is growing worse by the minute. If I stood now, I don’t think my legs would hold me.

MacNab nods and leaves. Gavin takes this brief reprieve to shove his flask into his jacket pocket.

Not a moment later, Lady Cassilis sweeps into the drawing room, heavy silk skirts billowing behind her. A large, feathered hat slants across her brow. Catherine follows her with an apologetic smile. She looks beautiful, as always, in her light blue day dress, with her blonde hair in loose curls.

‘Galloway,’ the viscountess says, eyeing her son with disapproval. ‘Here you are, when I specifically requested a conversation with you earlier this morning.’

I try not to blanch. As I am the lady of the house, the viscountess should have spoken to me first. Failing that, it would be common decency to acknowledge me with a nod.

‘You did,’ Gavin says. He reclines with an amused expression. ‘I was avoiding you.’

‘Obviously.’

The viscountess still doesn’t look at me, instead inspecting the state of the drawing room. I watch her take in the broken vases, the shattered teacups at her feet, the books strewn about the room. She blinks.

‘Is this the permanent state of the drawing room,’ she asks drily, ‘or have we walked in on another of my son’s renovations? This matches the appalling state of your study, Galloway.’

‘We were balancing,’ Gavin says quickly. ‘First the vases, then the books, then the teacups. On our heads.’

I glance at him. What the devil? Who on earth would believe that?

‘Balancing?’ Lady Cassilis looks positively horrified.

‘A new parlour game,’ Gavin explains. ‘Balance an object on your head, and whoever holds it there longest wins.’ He glances over at the broken objects. ‘Perhaps, in retrospect, a rather messy pastime.’

I suck in air as a wave of nausea hits me. I’m determined not to let the viscountess see how vulnerable I am. ‘Lady Cassilis,’ I say through clenched teeth. ‘Would you like to sit?’

‘That’s quite unnecessary.’ Her gaze finally settles on me. ‘I’ll endeavour to be brief.’

‘Here we go . . .’ Gavin mutters.

Lady Cassilis glares at him sharply before continuing, ‘I hope you realise this situation with my son has put me in quite a precarious position.’

I can barely concentrate on her words. The illness is now a storm inside me. Heat swirls along my veins as my heart pumps venom through my system. My heartbeat roars in my ears. God, can nobody else hear it? It’s so loud, so slow.
Thump. Thump
.

‘Lady Aileana,’ the viscountess says.

‘Aye?’ I dare not say much, struggling as I am just to catch my breath. Black dots dance in my vision and I try desperately to blink them away.

‘
Yes
,’ she corrects.

I don’t respond. I concentrate on my laboured breathing. Gavin looks over at me and I attempt my best reassuring smile.

Lady Cassilis continues, ‘As my son is a gentleman—’ Gavin’s loud snort interrupts her, but she ignores it. ‘He has decided that the best way of resolving the situation is to wed you.’ The viscountess regards me grimly. ‘I agree with his decision.’

‘Splendid,’ I whisper.

Catherine frowns and mouths, ‘Are you well?’ I nod, a mere shift of my head, because that’s the only movement I can manage. Catherine doesn’t look convinced. The viscountess goes on and I try to listen, but I must appear distracted.

‘Aileana, have you heard a word I’ve said?’

‘I beg your pardon, Lady Cassilis.’ I swallow and offer the viscountess a wan smile. ‘Please, do continue.’

The viscountess draws back her shoulders. ‘As I was saying, I also agree with your father that this will have to be settled quickly. The Stewart name is old and renowned, and as you have an impressive dowry and lineage, I’m willing to concede to this match. After all, I refuse to see my family’s reputation tarnished because some . . . some foolish girl seduced the only remaining Stewart heir.’

My head snaps up at that.
Foolish girl?
Rage simmers inside me and my defences begin to crumble. That carefully composed and maintained façade of calm is failing me. My polite pretence almost slips.

‘Mother,’ Catherine says, aghast. ‘That is not at all appropriate.’

‘Is that what you think happened?’ I speak carefully, with more control than I feel.

Over on the settee, Gavin turns his head to me. He must hear the change in my voice, the undertone of anger creeping in. His eyes widen a fraction – in fear, I realise. He knows what I’m capable of.

You scare the hell out of me
.

Last night, it hurt to hear him say that. I find those same words empowering now. To be feared is an elixir. I can be terrifying, strong, untouchable. In that world, I don’t have to worry about reputations or marriage.

‘I think we are far past what is appropriate, Catherine,’ Lady Cassilis replies. ‘Aileana has already attracted excessive attention, so my motive is to mitigate the inevitable gossip as much as possible. If we have the ceremony in a fortnight, there will be less talk if a child is born early.’

Gavin chokes low in his throat and stares at his mother in shock. Catherine perfectly mirrors his expression.