22
" 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 "
― Elizabeth May , The Vanishing Throne (The Falconer, #2)
25
" My cheeks are hot when he stalks right up to me, eyes narrowed. Pinched between his bloody fingers is a piece of scrap metal laced with seilgflùr from the blunderbuss—a shot that would have killed any other faery.
“Really?” he says.
“You were traipsing around in a low-visibility field while enemy fae are afoot,” I say defensively, hoping he can’t tell I’m blushing. “What is wrong with you?”
Aithinne snickers and Kiaran casts her a sharp glance. “It’s not funny.”
His sister tries to hold back a laugh, but doesn’t quite succeed. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But you just . . . I’ve never seen you look like such a complete mess.”
Kiaran studies her with a narrowed gaze. “And both of you look like you’ve gone three rounds with a roving band of feral cats. I’d say we’re even.”
“Even? Oh, please.” Aithinne ticks off each finger. “Thus far the Falconer and I escaped through a forest of spiked trees, fought off the mara, fled from Lonnrach’s soldiers, and defeated two mortair. You were shot by accident with some weapon composed of a wooden stick with a barrel on the end—”
“A blunderbuss,” I correct helpfully. Kiaran gives me a pointed look that says, Whose side are you on?
“—so I’d say I win this round.” She finishes with the sort of arrogant grin that makes it very clear that this must be an ongoing competition.
Sibling rivalry, it seems, is not just for humans.
If Kiaran’s glare is any indication, he’s contemplating about fifty different ways of killing his own sister. “Just remember,” I whisper to him, “murder is frowned upon in most societies.”
“Not mine,” Kiaran says shortly. “She’s lucky I love her. "
― Elizabeth May , The Vanishing Throne (The Falconer, #2)
27
" Then we’re kissing right there in front of everyone. And nothing else seems to matter. Certainly not etiquette, or what anyone else thinks. It’s only his lips on mine, the pressure gentle. It’s only us. And I can’t stop—
Which is when Derrick arrives out of thin air and careens into my shoulder in a mess of wings and limbs. “Hellooooo! Don’t mind me, I’m just interrupting your brazen cuddle to steal the lady for a few minutes.”
Oh, damnation, not now. I’m really regretting not giving Derrick that extra five minutes. “Derrick,” I say through clenched teeth. I step back from Kiaran and try to control the pixie’s wriggling body in my hair. “Not—”
“My god.” Derrick collapses on my shoulder. “I am full of pie. I can barely even move my wings. I—” He squints over at Kiaran and smiles in delight. “Oh, hulloooooo, villainous wastrel!”
Kiaran is clearly not impressed. “You’ve a bit of pastry on your jacket.”
Derrick swipes at the morsel, snatches it, and eats it. “Was just saving a wee snack for later.” He giggles.
For god’s sake.
I look pleadingly at Kiaran. “Just . . . save that thought. Don’t go anywhere.” I’d like to resume the kissing. “I’ll be right back—”
“Kiaraaaaaaaaaan.” Derrick giggles. “Or would you prefer I keep villainous wastrel? I never asked.”
Kiaran arches an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends. Would you prefer pain in my arse?”
Derrick bursts into laughter. “Arse! Aileana. He said arse.”
“Hell,” I mutter. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
I don’t wait for Kiaran’s response. I take Derrick with me to the lift and don’t say anything until I reach the fourth floor. “Let me just say, if someone gave you honey, I’ll—”
“No, no, no,” Derrick says, gliding off my shoulder. He now looks suspiciously lucid. “You said to save you after twenty-five minutes. So I did.”
“I said to save me if I was around Daniel and in obvious distress.” Not when I’m kissing someone in obvious delight.
“Firstly, I was the one in distress watching you kiss Kiaran because ughhhh.” Derrick wags a finger at me. “And secondly, you never said anything about distress, you said—”
“Forget what I said.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you telling me that down there was all an act?”
He grins. “I would have been perfect in the theater, wouldn’t you say?”
“Good heavens,” I murmur. At least I don’t have to deal with a drunk pixie. “Let’s just check the wards, all right "
― Elizabeth May , The Vanishing Throne (The Falconer, #2)
28
" Gavin finally clears his throat to fill the awkward silence. “Tavish, Lorne. Will you permit me to introduce—”
The large man—Lorne—laughs, and it’s a deep rumble in his chest. “Permit me. Well, la-di-da Lord-I-Have-an-Earldom.”
“Don’t be an arsehole, Lorne,” Tavish says. “There’s a lady present, for god’s sake, man.” Then he looks at me. “I’m Tavish—uh, Mr. Gray.” He smacks his companion in the stomach, who lets out a hearty oof. “And this impolite son of a bitch is Mr. Candish.”
“If you call me Mr. Candish,” Lorne says, “I won’t bother responding.”
“Well,” Gavin says, “after that unseemly introduction . . .” He gestures to me. “This is Lady Aileana Kameron.” He turns to Kiaran, rather reluctantly. “And you’ve already seen Kiaran, who is—”
“Leaving,” Kiaran interrupts briskly. “My threshold for human tolerance is now exceeded. Send the pixie for me in the event I get to stab something.”
With that, Kiaran turns on his heel and strides out of the room. Damn him. "
― Elizabeth May , The Vanishing Throne (The Falconer, #2)
39
" She didn’t get this pish from you, did she? Because I’m still looking for a reason to lop off one of your appendages after what you did to her, and this looks like the perfect excuse.”
“For god’s sake,” I mutter.
Gavin backs up with his hands raised. “Don’t blame me. I might have presented the idea, but she’s the one who sauntered off with it.”
Derrick narrows his eyes. “Aileana, is that true?”
“Yes,” I snap. “Well, not the sauntering. I don’t saunter.”
“Does . . . this mean I get to keep my appendages?” Gavin asks.
“For now,” Derrick says, holding up the needle in a clear threat. "
― Elizabeth May , The Vanishing Throne (The Falconer, #2)
