The Vanishing Throne (29 page)

Kiaran's eyes are closed. Water drips from his hair onto where his shirt is open at the throat. I can't help but think of his words as he pulled me through the waves.

I'll be right here with you
.

Kiaran eases an eye open. “You're staring.” He sounds like he doesn't object.

I don't look away. “I have to tell you something.”

“That sounds vaguely ominous.”

“Whatever Lonnrach is looking for,” I say, “he—he knew to find it in Skye from me. From my memories.” I speak quickly before Kiaran can respond. “Derrick told me his home was here on the island, so I thought Lonnrach was searching for the city.” I finally look away. “I didn't realize it was something else until Sorcha told us.”

Whatever he requires to take your powers is on this island. That's all I know
.

Kiaran is quiet for a long time. Then he gently clasps my wrist to pull up my sleeve. His fingers run over the grooves of my bite-marks.

I almost wish I could show him the memories for each one. There are so many of the two of us. Our hunts imprinted on my skin, a story of how we went from reluctant partners to . . . this. Whatever this is.

Focus
. “Do you think Derrick knows what it is?” I ask him.

“No,” Kiaran says. “Something that can steal power would be ancient. Before his life.” His fingers trail up to the next bite. “Pixies were once protectors of certain relics. They were the only
sìthichean
strong enough to defend objects, but not to use them. Few knew where the pixies lived, and it was rumored they buried their relics all over the island.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “What Lonnrach seeks is the very reason I came here thousands of years ago. I destroyed your pixie's home to find it.”

I jerk away from his touch. I can't help my guilt over caring for someone who has done so much to hurt someone I love. Kiaran isn't Kadamach anymore. He's not. But I can't help but feel like caring for Kiaran means I'm betraying Derrick.

“What is it, then?” My tone is even, brutally so.

I don't miss how Kiaran's expression goes cold, as if he senses that I'm distancing myself. Now he's pulling away from me, too.

“Among my kind,” he says, almost mechanically, “there are stories of the first
sìthichean
kingdom, one built before a different realm existed for us. It was a place of immense power, created by old magic that doesn't exist anymore except through the Cailleach.”

The Cailleach
. The name makes me start as I remember what Lonnrach told me in the prison.

No one has seen the Cailleach for thousands of years
.

Kiaran's speaking again before I can think further. “Hostility between factions culminated in a war that destroyed the kingdom and led to the creation of a separate realm. They say a crystal from the palace is still here, hidden somewhere. Full of old magic.”

“You never found it?”

He shakes his head. “But if Lonnrach discovers where it is, he'll use it to take your powers and kill the Seelie and Unseelie monarchs.”

The heirs she left behind to rule were . . . unworthy. Without a monarch, the
Sìth-bhrùth
will wither. Someone must take her place
.

I have to know. “Why were you searching for the crystal?”

Kiaran doesn't respond immediately. “I was Unseelie, Kam. What do you think?” His eyes are savage, fierce. “I wanted it to kill the Seelie queen.”

My breath hitches. Before I can answer, I hear Aithinne. “So, are you two going to sit there all day or are we going back to the city? Because I'm hungry.”

I turn just as Aithinne leaps from a rock that juts out under the cliff. She lands with a soft thud, looking very
pleased with herself. Her clothes are sopping wet, hair dripping, every inch of her covered in sand. And she doesn't seem to mind one bit.

Aithinne makes her way across the larger beach rocks toward us, her movements graceful. “You both look miserable.”

“I'm cold and wet,” I say. “I feel wretched, and my blunderbuss is probably destroyed from the swim. No need to state the obvious.”

She glances at her brother. “And I suppose your face is just stuck that way?”

Kiaran pushes to his feet and I do the same. “What you see is the incessant, grave look of someone in possession of a sibling.”

“Ha ha.” Aithinne focuses her attention on me, tilting her head. “You know, I had a
kyloe
look at me exactly like that once. His hair was a similar color and everything.”

I glare at her. “You did
not
just compare me to a cow.”

“No, no. I compared your
expression
to one. Cows truly are majestic creatures, aren't they?” With a flashing grin, she says, “Don't worry, I'm going to fix you right up!”

Before I can protest, she has her hand on my shoulder. Her power is unexpected, so strong that it upsets my stomach. I double over at the overwhelming and unpleasant sweetness on my tongue. As it retreats, I realize that my clothes are dry, my hair is dry, and I'm warm—as if I had just stepped out of the sunshine on a warm summer day.

I straighten with a scowl. “You could have asked.”

Aithinne starts walking toward a path that leads between the cliffs, and Kiaran and I follow. “You would have said no out of sheer human stubbornness, and got sick on the way back from . . . from—what do you call it?”

“Exhaustion,” I say, climbing up the path. “I believe I require a nap.”

She's not listening. She snaps her fingers. “Pneumonia! That's it. In any case, you would have got sick and died and then where would we be? You're welcome.”

Well, I see she's no different from Kiaran in her use of the fine art of
tact
. I tug on my newly dried coat and brush off the sand with a flick of my fingers. “What about you? Are you going to dry yourself?”

Aithinne shrugs. “I like the water. Reminds me of home.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kiaran stiffen at her words. A slight movement, only noticeable because I've become so familiar with how he stands and how he carries himself. When he speaks, his voice is cold as the wind. “We should get back.”

We leave through a passage in the forest. It extends beneath the sea, just one of the many tunnels around the island that leads back into the fae city. Above us, I can hear the waves crashing and lapping against the shore as we make our way through the dark, glittering rocks. The tunnel brings us out at the border between the fae and human parts of the city: the field of
seilgflùr
is a line of defense, a wordless way of
reminding any wandering humans that crossing this field puts them in fae territory.

After Aithinne goes through the fae door, Kiaran lingers with me along the path through the
seilgflùr
. We haven't spoken since the beach. I wish I knew what to say to him; I wish my feelings weren't a tangle of wants and needs and attraction.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Kiaran asks when we stop at the stairway that leads to the main part of the city.

“I don't trust the Seers not to do something foolish.”

I dread the thought of facing them, but I don't tell him. “I appreciate that, but I'm not terribly certain your being there will improve the situation.”

“No,” he says. “But I don't like you being alone with them. Not after what they did to you.” He shakes his head. “I wasn't there for you both times. I won't let that happen again.”

I almost tell him that I haven't forgiven Gavin either. Not yet. “You care?” I breathe. I know he does, but I have to hear him say it. I
need
to hear him say it.

Kadamach doesn't give a damn about anyone, least of all you
.

I wish I could get Lonnrach's words out of my mind. I wish I hadn't spent so long in the mirrored room convincing myself they were true. That the reason Kiaran hadn't found me was because he wasn't looking.

I close my eyes when Kiaran presses a palm to my cheek. “Kam,” he says. “I just saved the Seer, jumped over a cliff, and swam through freezing water with you in my arms.” Then he's cupping my face in his hands. “What else do I need to do to show you?”

I shake my head. “I'm afraid I require further proof.”

“Further proof?” Kiaran raises an eyebrow. “It doesn't involve declarations or theatrics, does it? I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“No theatrics. No declarations.” I stand on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear. “Just a kiss.”

Then his lips are on mine and it might as well be a declaration. For a moment, his past fades away and so does mine. As I let myself lean into his touch it suddenly feels like nothing else matters but this. Just him. Just us.

I soften the kiss until it's barely a brush of my lips against his. With each touch I tell him,
Thank you
. And
I care for you too
. And
God help me, but I trust you
.

When I pull away, I swear he understood what all that meant. “I have to go,” I whisper.

I watch the struggle in his face as he steps away. “If they try anything, send the pixie.”

I nod and start to climb the stairs. When I turn back again, he's already gone through the faery door.

T
HE STREETS
are quiet. A few people have ventured out of their homes, but the lights are still down. The clouds are back, this time with a moon shining between them. The cobblestone streets glisten in its light, still slick from the earlier rainfall. I retrace the path Kiaran took earlier, through the dark closes that lead to the room full of tapestries of pixie victories.

I take a breath and enter, and everyone immediately quiets and turns. God, it feels as though I've done something horribly wrong. The door shuts behind me with a heavy clang. It's like a gunshot.

In the back, Lorne and Tavish look at me in blatant suspicion, perhaps a bit of fear. Gavin's expression is unreadable, with a hint of something else—regret? In contrast, Catherine seems both irate and concerned. The second she sees me she hurries across the room.

“Catherine,
don't
.” This from Daniel. Surprise, surprise.

She ignores him and takes me by the elbow. “Come with me. Ignore the idiots in the corner.”

Ignore? I see Kiaran's concern wasn't entirely unfounded.

But Daniel is already heading toward us. “Let me handle it,” he says to her.

Catherine scowls. “I think not. Step aside.”

Daniel sighs. This time, he looks at me. Not with the suspicion and accusation that I'm used to seeing, but he seems tired. So tired. He hasn't even changed out of the clothes he wore when he went out riding.

“May I speak with you?” he asks me directly. Catherine opens her mouth to protest, but he puts up a hand. “Alone, if you don't mind.”

I step back from him. “Surely you understand why I'd rather not.”

Daniel runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I'm not going to hurt you,” he says. “I just want to talk.”

I glance at Catherine. She hesitates before indicating that it's all right. I suppose Daniel and I ought to have a civil conversation in any case.

Catherine releases me and rises on her tiptoes to whisper something in Daniel's ear. Daniel raises his eye heavenward as she smiles at him and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Well . . . well
 . . .

I can't control the sudden blush that creeps up my face at their very public display of affection. It feels so intimate.

Catherine gives me an encouraging nod as her husband escorts me out into the dark close. I open my mouth to speak,
but Daniel interrupts. “Not here,” he says in that deep burr. “My wife probably has her ear pressed to the door.” At my reluctance he says, “I promised I wouldn't hurt you. Please.”

“Very well.”

Without another word, he turns and starts down the alley and I have no choice but to follow. I can barely see where I'm going, it's still so dark. Even the light from the false moon above doesn't entirely break through the shadows cast by the tenements around us.

“What did she say to you?” I ask, keeping my movements careful lest I trip.

“She told me to behave myself.”

I smile. That couldn't have been the only thing she said. “Or?”

“That part was meant for me only.”

He leads me to a heavy oak door surrounded in ivy. It groans on its hinges as he opens it. Nothing is visible on this side; only thick, impenetrable darkness. I don't trust him enough to go into a room I can't see. For all I know, it's another wisp ambush.