The Shattered Dark

Page 70

“He’ll just be a threat to you,” Lena says sourly.
I’m still staring at my cabus. If I didn’t know what it was, I’d mistake it for a red wine.
“You’re more important than I am,” Aren says. “Besides, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”
“He has to be killed or captured,” Lena responds. “I won’t allow him to plot my sword-master’s death.” They continue talking. I know I should be concerned about Aren’s safety—and I am—but I block out their words. Sara runs a wine store that caters to people with expensive tastes. Lorn buys from her. He brings it back to the Realm and sells it.
“McKenzie?” Aren’s brow is creased. He must see something in my face.
I look at Lena. “How did you find me?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, frowning.
“You found me on my campus. How did you know I was there? How did you find out my name?” The few Court fae who knew my name and where I lived on Earth were all trusted completely by Kyol and King Atroth. When the rebels found me, we were surprised they’d managed to learn who I was.
“A letter came,” Aren answers. “It had your name and the name of your school.”
“It was anonymous?” I ask.
He nods.
“Like the anonymous note that told you I was in Nashville?”
He nods again. “And it was like the letter that told us Paige was in London.”
My heartbeat doubles its pace.
“We get dozens of tips every day,” Lena adds. “That’s how we get half of our information.”
“Most citizens who want to help are worried about repercussions if the other side ends up winning,” Aren explains.
“McKenzie,” Lena says, “what are you thinking?”
It’s clear she doesn’t get it—none of them do—but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Atroth was a strong king. Sethan had a lot of support, but it was quiet support. The reason—the only reason—we took the palace was because we had Kyol’s help. He told us the weaknesses in the Court fae’s defenses. The rebels slipped inside, assassinating a few select guards to open up the way for Lena to lead in a whole contingent of her followers. Everything the rebels did had to be done covertly because they were no match for Atroth’s Court fae in an open fight. No fae in the last decade, no matter how charismatic, has been a match for them.
“Kyol swore Atroth never gave the vigilantes my name,” I tell them. “Maybe he was right. Atroth didn’t give them my name. But somebody else did. It’s the same person who arranged for Paige and me both to be in London and to suspect the other side of slaughtering the Sighted humans. That someone is pulling our strings, making us kill each other. Weaken each other.”
“So they can step in and take the palace,” Aren says.
“Or maybe it’s just someone who wants the war to continue. He profits from it. He’s even entertained by it. I think it’s Lorn.”
That statement is greeted with a long silence. I stare at my glass of cabus again. I don’t want to believe it’s Lorn. I want to believe he’s a good person beneath his selfish exterior, but he hasn’t been helping us since we took the palace. I could be misjudging him. After all, I misjudged Kavok.
“He lost Kelia in this war,” Lena says, breaking the silence. “They had a life-bond.”
“Lorn paid fae to protect her,” Aren says. “She should have been safe.”
“He wanted to sever the life-bond.” Naito’s voice is as cold and quiet as ice. He’s as still as ice, too, and his gaze never wavers from the center of the table. I hate seeing him hurt.
“Lorn gave you an anonymous tip so that you’d find me in Nashville. That’s how he works. Was the handwriting on any of the letters you received the same?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “They came months apart.”
Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. I let my gaze sweep the hall, hoping I’ll be struck by inspiration, an idea to prove conclusively that Lorn is manipulating things behind the scenes, but the mirrors don’t offer any answers.
“I tracked Aylen to Eksan,” I murmur, mostly to myself. She was an “associate of an associate” according to Lorn. Maybe it’s more than a coincidence that she fissured to the same city Tylan was captured in.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Lena says.
“I know.” I let out a sigh and focus on the fae entering the room. He doesn’t announce his presence. I don’t find that odd until he’s walking down the length of the table. My brow furrows when he’s two chairs away from Naito, three away from Lena. Neither Lena nor Aren acknowledges the other fae’s presence, and Naito is still staring at the table.
The problem doesn’t click into place until he draws his sword.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“LENA, MOVE!”
My shout startles everyone into motion, and that’s the only reason she survives. Naito’s chair flies back, barely missing the remnant. The fae pauses long enough for Lena to draw her sword. She swings blindly, completely missing him, but Naito’s grabbed ahold of his overturned chair.
He swings it as Lena backpedals, as Aren leaps over the table, and as I grab the unopened bottle sitting on the silver platter.
But I don’t have to use my makeshift weapon. Aren knows where the remnant is the second Naito swings the chair into him. Aren slides off the table, his sword stabbing forward.
The remnant’s jaedric cuirass stops the attack. He faces Aren, but Lena steps left, then plunges her blade into his side. He cries out, falls to his knees, but he’s still alive. Still breathing.
“How did you get in here?” Lena demands, withdrawing her sword. The remnant’s hand goes to his side, but he can’t stop the river of blood from flowing between his fingers. He shakes his head as he gasps for air.
Lena’s sword point reenters the fae’s wound, and he screams.
The room tilts, and I’m suddenly nauseous. Lena asks him again how he got in here and what the remnants’ plan is, then there’s a shout from just outside the Mirrored Hall. Something breaks.
I sprint to the hall’s open doors, step out onto the balcony that overlooks the huge antechamber below.
My breath catches in my throat. Blood spills over the smooth, polished marble floor. The remnants are everywhere. I don’t know how. We’re inside the Silver Palace, which is inside Corrist’s silver walls. The only way for fae to fissure here is via a Sidhe Tol, but Lena has guards on all of them. It should be impossible for this many remnants to make it here at once.
Unless, of course, the remnants have retaken one of the Sidhe Tol.
As I back away from the railing, my gaze sweeps past the open doors to the king’s hall on the floor below. Kyol’s there. Remnants see him, too. They attack…
And he kills them as if they’re afterthoughts. He’s preoccupied, searching for…
He’s searching for Lena, I realize.
“Kyol!”
I don’t know how he hears me over the sounds of the battle, but he looks up. His eyes lock on me for two, maybe three seconds, then he’s running, sprinting for the stairs that will bring him to me.