Read Online The Vanishing Throne by Elizabeth May - Free Book Online Page B

None.
    The pounding of hooves through the trees grows closer. They’re almost to the meadow. If we don’t go now, they’ll see me and I’ll be put back in the mirrored prison.
    Lonnrach will steal my memories again. He’ll punish me for escaping, and this time it might be worse. I won’t go back to that. I might not have this chance again.
    When Aithinne starts down the trail ahead of me, I don’t hesitate. I take the first steps down the rocky path. I mentally recite my encouragement, my mantra. Almost there. Almost there almost there . Almost safe. Almost home. Almost free of him . Each step is almost almost almost .
    When I hear the fae enter the field above our heads, I try to keep my steps as quiet as Aithinne’s. The rocks are too unstable. My slippers have barely any grip on them at all.Halfway across the path, my feet slip and I slide with a scrape over the rocks. I open my mouth to scream, but Aithinne smacks a hand over my mouth and hauls me to safety. She pushes us up against the rough crag, a finger to her lips. Then she releases me and gestures upward. The riders are on the ridge right above us.
    â€œYou said you tracked them this way?” I hear Lonnrach say.
    My pulse quickens. I picture him in the mirrored room, teeth at my wrist. This is really going to hurt . It hurt every time.
    Almost there . I return to my desperate chant, a reassurance that Kiaran will be there once I escape. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side .
    Almost there .
    I’m so distracted by my own thoughts that when I finally look over at Aithinne, I’m startled to find that she’s gone entirely still. Her eyes are wide and panicked. When I move to touch her fingers, they’re ice-cold.
    â€œThey went through the forest,” another voice says, one I don’t recognize. “There are two energy trails here. She had help.”
    One horse is so close to the edge that a hoof knocks off small bits of dirt and rock to rain on our feet. Aithinne doesn’t appear to notice. Her breathing grows more unsteady, gasping. Loud.
    Above us, the horse shuffles closer to the edge. The fae are silent—too hushed and still. Dawning horror makes me grow cold. They’re listening for us. Aithinne’s breathing has turned heavy, a roar in the quiet.
    I press my palm to her lips to quiet her down, and she doesn’t react. Her gaze is unseeing, distant now. She’s lost in a memory.
    â€œIt’s Aithinne,” Lonnrach says, his voice tight. “She’s with the Falconer.”
    Aithinne gasps against my palm, her eyes squeezing shut.
    â€œIt can’t be,” the other faery says. “She couldn’t have come through without our sensing—”
    â€œOh, she could,” Lonnrach says. “But with limited power, she’d need the right conditions. She’ll be looking for a way to escape.”
    Aithinne is wheezing against my palm, her lips moving. I edge closer. I can hear what she’s saying through my fingers, her lips forming words against my skin. Three of them. Three words like icy fingertips down my spine. “It doesn’t hurt.”
    â€œShh.” I try to make my breath sound like the air. I don’t know how to comfort her or to get her back, not without speaking. If I touch her further, she might respond badly.
    â€œGo through the forest,” Lonnrach says. “Try to pick up their trail there. We’ll double back and see if we missed anything.”
    The riders disperse, their steps heavy on the ridge above us. I listen until it’s quiet around us again and lower my hand from Aithinne’s mouth. She still has her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling quickly as she repeats her three words: It doesn’t hurt .
    â€œAithinne,” I whisper. “They’re gone. It’s all right.”
    It’s not all right. What he did to you, it’s not all right .
    She stops mouthing her chant, but