The Vanishing Throne (28 page)

Mine
? How could my power possibly help him do that?

“It won't be difficult, since your little human friend can't even access her power to fend him off.”

I don't even respond to her insult. My mind is reeling. What did Lonnrach tell me in the
Sìth-bhrùth
?
You can unlock an object I seek. That is your sole purpose
.

He must have meant that only my power could unlock it, just like the device Aithinne made.

Without a monarch, the
S
ì
th-bhr
ù
th
will wither. Someone must take her place
.

How would my power help him steal the thrones? As if Sorcha sees the question in my face, she smiles mockingly. “Oh, my dear sweet lass. You still have no idea what you're capable of, do you? Such a waste.”

A pulse of old anger heats my skin. Lonnrach may not be mine to kill, but
Sorcha
is. One day I'll find a way to drive a blade through her heart and kill her without Kiaran dying in the process. Whatever it takes. She's
mine
.

Sorcha bares her teeth.
Come get me
.

I will
, I promise her.
I vow it
.

It isn't until Aithinne steps closer that I realize I had my blade out and ready. “Lonnrach can't take her power without the proper ritual, and even if he knew it, he's not strong enough to perform it.”

“Well,” Sorcha says, finally averting her gaze from mine, “it seems he's found a way around that.”

You can unlock an object I seek. That is your sole purpose
.

Your sole purpose
.

The object. The object will be what takes my power. I almost say it out loud, but clamp my mouth shut when I remember Sorcha is here. I can't give away that I know anything.

Kiaran's smile is mocking. “He didn't trust you enough to tell you, did he?”

“Don't bait me, Kadamach. I'm speaking to you at the risk of my brother's wrath.” Sorcha whispers so softly that I almost don't hear her at all. “At the risk of
her
wrath.”

Her
? But Kiaran's already speaking. “And you still haven't said why.”

Sorcha's expression is so vulnerable, even Kiaran seems surprised by it. “If my brother finds what he's looking for, he'll be able to kill you.” She recomposes herself, lifting her chin defiantly. “This is self-preservation, Kadamach. I have to keep you alive to keep me alive.”

What rubbish. This is
Sorcha
. She killed my mother. She's betraying her own brother and can just as easily betray us. Why should we listen to anything she says?

“If you intend to help,” I say, working to keep my voice calm, “then tell us what else you know.”

Sorcha looks like she's considering killing me, too. “Whatever he requires to take your power is on this island. That's all I know.”

So Lonnrach isn't just looking for the city and for me. Derrick said his soldiers had been patrolling the island before I escaped. That means whatever he needs to steal my power and become monarch of the
Sìth-bhrùth
is here on Skye.

You spent a year training under my enemy and that rogue pixie. I assume they often spoke about things you didn't understand
.

If Lonnrach got the location from my head, it can only mean one thing: He suspected Derrick or Kiaran knew where it was.

Kiaran steps forward. “If you're lying—”

“Oh, Kadamach,” Sorcha says with her typical mocking smile. “You know we can't tell lies. Now, I really do have to keep up my performance and make it look like I'm loyal to him.” Her green eyes glow bright. Those sharp teeth of hers flash as she grins. “You had better run.”

I suddenly feel the heat from her, as if she were the source of a blazing fire. Her power grows in my mouth, stark and unyielding. Iron and blood on my tongue, down my throat in an endless, unstoppable stream.

Then, I hear it. The distant boom that has become a sound to dread.

The
mortair
. She's calling the
mortair
.

I
CAN BARELY
hear anything over the ground shaking and cracking around us. Cresting the mountains just over the river are the metal fae, headed right toward us at Sorcha's command. The
mortair
tear across the landscape with their massive bodies. The ground buckles beneath them as they run, leaving giant pockmarks in the earth.

There are other creatures behind them, metal monsters of so many kinds, birdlike creations with long beaks and narrow bodies shaped like an egret's. They run on thin legs tipped with massive claws. Some are like cats with long ears and horns that spiral up toward the sky.

As they cross the river, I can see the large metal gears in their thighs revolving so quickly that it looks like their insides are aflame. They are beautiful creations of the same black obsidian as the
mortair
 . . . and yet they are horrifying.

Aithinne is next to me, her eyes narrowed and determined. “The little ones attack in groups, so pick them off
one at a time. Try not to let them surround you,” she says, pulling out her own sword. Then she passes me a smile. “It's all straightforward. Uncomplicated!”

Oh, she did
not
just—“
Really
, Aithinne?”

The creatures' legs eat up the ground fast. So fast. They're almost here now, just one more hill. . . .

My sword is out. I'm ready.
Now
. I run beneath the massive frame of a catlike
mortair
, its limbs towering over me as gracefully as a real animal. I thread myself between its limbs, slicing my blade through the metal there to bring down the beast.

It's amazing how quickly the creatures move. One minute I'm thinking through my options, the next I see dozens heading straight toward me. I sprint between them and cut through them at the ankles to send the metal creatures crashing down around us. As they hit the ground, snow flies up and adheres to my skin, but I'm moving so fast that the cold barely affects me.

The
mortair
crash to the ground, their limbs breaking the earth all around us. I teeter and try to find my footing, but the ground is uneven, buckling beneath my boots.

“Kam!”

I look up at Kiaran's call and swear loudly. Behind him are even more
mortair
, racing through the trees and hills from the west end of the island. Their limbs crash through the forests, sending branches and whole trees flying from the force of their massive bodies. It's an entire army. If Aithinne invented the
mortair
to withstand most weapons, we can't stand a chance against that many.

“We have to jump,” Kiaran tells me, grabbing for my arm.

I run with him. The fae creatures are pursuing us, pounding across the icy landscape. Aithinne leaps to cut down another with her sword.

Kiaran leads me up the icy slope of the crag toward the cliffs, our boots pounding through the snow. It's so cold that my toes are growing numb; I can barely run anymore. Kiaran urges me forward as the mechanical creatures gain on us. Once we reach the edge of the crag I look down at the crashing waves. It's a long way down.

Kiaran looks at me with determination. Oh, Christ, he really
does
intend to jump. “On the count of three,” he says, pulling me against him.

I wrap my arms tightly around him. Next to us, Aithinne says, “See you both at the bottom!”

God help me
.

Aithinne lets out a whoop of glee and jumps off the cliff in a single running leap, taking a graceful dive. I don't even see her enter the water; Kiaran's holding me too tightly. “Whatever you do,” he says, “don't let go of me.”

The ground is shaking from the
mortair
. They're going to be here any second. Already the tremors are dislodging pieces of loose rock along the cliff. “Me, let go? I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Smart lass. Ready?” Kiaran presses his cheek to mine and whispers. “One . . . two . . .”

On three, he throws us off. The frigid air whistles past us as we hurtle to the sea below. Beneath us, all I see is the jagged rock sticking up from the bottom of the crag. The
cliffs on this part of Skye are high up, and the ocean waves so violent, the jump is anything but safe. We will be dashed against the rocks . . . if the fall doesn't kill me first.

Kiaran shifts me so he can hold his hand, palm out, to the sea below. His power surrounds us in a sudden, nauseating burst that would have doubled me over had I been standing. Then I realize Kiaran is slowing
us
down, using his powers so we fall at half the speed to reach the bottom. For
me
; he's doing this for me. The rocks would crush me if we landed at full force. Kiaran would survive, but my entire body would be broken.

“Put your arms tighter around me,” he whispers, his breath warm on my cheek.

I press my palms to his back and pull him against me. We fall slower, slower still, then it's as if we're floating rather than falling. We are weightless above the raging sea, the air around us no more violent than a frigid breeze that ruffles my hair. Kiaran's warmth surrounds me, his power pulsing and sliding over my skin, as soft as silk. Cold sea mist sprays all around us, dampening through my coat, slicking my face. I shiver when Kiaran draws me closer to press his lips to my neck.

We hit the water. God, not even the Forth was this cold when I leaped into it after a fight with the
sluagh
. The current wasn't so strong, so forceful. The cold steals my breath and my insides ache as we plunge beneath the surface. Violent waves throw us back, but Kiaran's power meets it in a burst that slows us before we slam into the cliff.

He's tugging us away from the crag, shoving us through the water with a combination of power and the strong strokes of his legs and arms. A wave hits and we're dragged beneath the water. His hold on me breaks and I'm carried away by the violent force of the surge. I panic, waving my arms beneath the water to find him, but I can't see. Air, I need air. I can't
breathe
—

Kiaran seizes my arm, pulling me up. We surface and I heave the frigid air into my lungs. It's painful, as if the very atmosphere is solid. I push against him, struggling to breathe, to kick, but my limbs are numb and uncoordinated. He almost loses his hold on me again, but my nails dig into his coat, my limbs thrashing.

“
Kam
!” He presses his hands to my face so I'm forced to look into his eyes. Calm, he's so calm. His power is warming, soothing. “You have to swim,” he says, drawing me against him. He strains not to lose me to another violent wave. “All right? Just swim, Kam.”

I've never heard him sound so gentle. He presses his forehead against mine, holding me against another wave. “I'll be right here with you,” he says.

I nod once and kick. The effort of swimming is like trying to move a boulder uphill, like each movement makes no difference at all. I'm panting with the effort. Kiaran swims with me, doing most of the work. His strokes are strong, assured, as if he isn't affected at all by the currents or the waves or the bitter cold. He keeps my arm in a strong, sure
grip even as the current threatens to tear us apart. I'm certain his hand will leave finger-shaped bruises after this.

Water crashes against us and I swallow it.
Ugh
. The too-salty taste makes me choke. I cough and cough, but still I kick forward.

Our progress is slow, agonizing. Even with Kiaran's powers keeping me warm, it doesn't stop the cold from seeping through. I'm a tangle of shivers and uncoordinated movements. My trousers and coat cling to my skin, and my boots weigh me down. My body is heavy, like a rock ready to sink straight to the bottom of the sea.

I surge forward and Kiaran pulls. As soon as I see a small beach nestled beneath the towering cliffs, determination forces me to move faster, to ignore the pain in my limbs, the exhaustion, everything.

Finally,
finally
, we make it to a beach covered in perfectly round rocks. I drop onto them and lie down. Thank god I'm not in the damn water.

Just over on the cliffs, I hear the pounding footsteps of the
mortair
and I stiffen. I don't think I can fight just yet. I can't even
stand
.

Kiaran hears it, too, but settles next to me on the rocks, resting his arms on his knees. “If Sorcha was telling the truth, she should be sending them back.” He scans the cliffs as if to be sure. After a while, he seems to relax. “Aithinne must have gone to the inlet on the other side of the cliffs. We'll wait here until she finds us.”

I sit up on the hard pebbles, wincing at how much effort even that takes. “Do you believe Sorcha?”

The fae can't lie, but I've learned they have many ways to circumvent the truth. They're masters at omission or stating
a
truth, leaving out the most vital information to trick humans into trusting them.

Kiaran considers my question. “Truth can be told in fragments. If Lonnrach really has found a way to seize your power, she'll be seeking that knowledge for herself.” He leans back on his hands, seeming at ease despite the icy wind. “It seems her brother doesn't entirely trust her, either.”

The waves crash around us, their force grinding rocks together over and over again. Despite the cold, Skye is peaceful. It's quiet now that the
mortair
have gone.