We could bring back the fae I inadvertently killed in Belecha.
We could resurrect Sethan.
But just as quickly as those hopes appear, they vanish. What the hell am I thinking? If that magic existed, Lena would have already tried to bring her brother back from the ether. And someone would have tried to bring back the king.
I close my eyes as a rush of pity flows through me. It’s tinged with pain, and it takes everything in me to keep it locked down tight. I swallow, trying to loosen a tight and raw throat, then, carefully, I ask, “Is that an extinct magic?”
Naito’s gaze doesn’t waver. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for the pity or skepticism to reach my face, but after a handful of heartbeats, some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “These documents are filled with references to banek’tan. And some of them are recent. This one”—he grabs a loose parchment from one of his stacks—“is only twenty years old. A false-blood’s bond-mate was killed. She came back.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and watch as he picks up another paper.
“Same thing with this one,” he says. “It’s a little older, but there were dozens of witnesses. A fae died in the silver mines of Adaris. His bond-mate was able to bring him back. I’ve found twelve stories like these from the past century. Twelve. There has to be some truth to them.”
There’s so much hope in his voice, I almost want to let him believe this. Would it be so wrong to? This is the best he’s looked in weeks. He has a reason to live, but these…these stories are just that. Stories. They’re rumors. Dreams. I want to believe them, too, but I’ve learned the hard way that life isn’t a fairy tale. People don’t come back from the dead.
No. I was wrong before when I thought it was too soon for him to go back to work. He needs the distraction. He doesn’t need to sit around researching dreams that can’t come true. It isn’t healthy.
“What happened to them?” I ask.
His brows lower. “What do you mean?”
“These fae who came back from the ether. Where are they now?”
He blinks, then stares down at the pages in front of him. “I’m not sure.”
I wait a moment, letting him think things through. “Naito, the banek’tan don’t exist.”
He looks up again, his expression hardening. “Neither did the ther’othi.”
And one point goes to Naito. Fae aren’t supposed to be able to walk the In-Between, but Micid could. He was a cruel, sick fae who worked for the previous king and his lord general, Radath. Instead of going through the In-Between, the freezing space fae pass through when they fissure, he waded in, taking me with him into a dimension within a world. We were invisible to everyone, but could still move and interact with the world. I suppose I can see why Naito is clinging to this hope, but it’s so, so thin. If a fae was ever brought back from the ether, there would be more evidence than what’s hinted at in these documents.
I draw in a breath, let it out slowly, then go for a not-so-subtle subject change. “Lena’s having a hard time keeping the palace secure.”
“Hmm,” Naito murmurs, leaning back in his chair and pulling a book closer. “She needs more fae to guard the Sidhe Tol.”
“The Sidhe Tol aren’t the problem,” I say. They’re not entirely the problem. A Sidhe Tol is a very rare and very special type of gate that allows a fae to fissure into an area protected by silver. We know the locations of three of them, but rumor has it there are more. No one’s been able to find them, and until two weeks ago, no one but the king and a few trusted advisors knew where they were. I wasn’t supposed to know where they were, but Kyol fissured me through one once. I gave the rebels its location, and then, they learned where the other two were as well. They used the Sidhe Tol to take the palace. Now, we have to guard them to make sure the former Court fae don’t do the same thing to us.
“The remnants are launching organized attacks from within the silver walls,” I tell Naito. “They have illusionists and all of the humans who used to work for the Court. Lena needs—”
“Not all of them,” Naito interrupts. “They don’t have you. I hear they don’t have that Shane guy, either.”
So he is aware of some of the things that are going on around the palace. That’s good. It means he isn’t completely lost in his research here. “Lena needs your help.”
“I’m busy.”
“Naito.”
“I said I’m busy.” His glare comes off as a warning not to press the issue further.
Too bad. I have to.
“And how much time do you think you’ll have for your research if we lose the palace?” I demand. “Do you think the remnants will just let you hang out here?”
His bottom lip twitches.
“You need to join the rotation,” I say. “With you and Shane, there are six of us working for Lena. We can keep all the entrances watched.”
Naito’s gaze grows distant, focusing somewhere behind me. “It won’t make a difference. We can’t keep watch indefinitely. Lena needs to take out the remnants’ leader. She needs to go on the offensive.”
It’s hard to argue with that because it’s true. The rebels’ other Sighted humans and I are almost burned-out already. We need a break, and while Naito and Shane will help lighten our workload, it’s only a temporary solution.
Naito is still staring behind me. I look over my shoulder just as Kyol reaches our table.
“I need a shadow-reader,” he says. “Quickly.”
I rise automatically, not noticing until I’m already standing that Kyol isn’t focused on me. He’s focused on Naito. Naito meets his gaze but doesn’t say a word for a good six seconds.
“I’m busy.” He returns to reading the documents in front of him.
I don’t know if it’s obvious what Naito is researching—I feel like it should be—but Kyol’s face remains expressionless, even when he eventually looks at me. “Will you come?”
It’s a question I was rarely asked when King Atroth was alive. The fae always assumed I would drop everything and help them, and most of the time, I did. My own fault. I should have stood my ground more often, made more time for myself.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I tell him. Jenkins doesn’t need my driver’s license and Social Security card until 5 P.M. on Friday, two days from now. I have more than enough time to help Kyol and get back to Vegas, and I want to help him.
I turn to Naito. “You’ll have to cover my watch.”
He doesn’t glance up.
“Naito,” I say again, sharper this time. I see his jaw clench once, twice. Then, when I think he’s going to ignore me indefinitely, he finally says, “Fine.”
I’ll have to trust he’ll follow through on that because Kyol’s already heading for the door. I was avoiding Kyol these past two weeks only because I didn’t want to hurt him, but it doesn’t look like being near me fazes him at all. Maybe I’m a fool to think he still wants me. Maybe he’s completely over me.
I follow him out the door, breaking into a jog when my legs can’t keep up at a walk. Usually, Kyol would slow down for me, but when we exit the archives, he increases his pace.
“We might lose him if we don’t move quickly.”
The urgency makes my stomach tighten. The last time I shadow-read with him was two weeks ago in Montana. It didn’t go well. A lot of fae died securing the Sidhe Tol and fissuring into the Silver Palace. They’ve been dying ever since, and while I want to believe we’ve made it through the bloodiest days of this war, my gut tells me we haven’t. More lives will be lost before the high nobles accept Lena as queen.
FIVE
KYOL ISN’T THE fae who fissures me out of Corrist. He hands me a cloak, a sketchbook, and an imprinted anchor-stone, then lets Taber, his second-in-command, take me through the slash of white light. As soon as the gated-fissure fades away, I release Taber’s arm, trying to ignore the heat swirling in my palm. He doesn’t look bothered by our contact. I’m sure he is, though. The majority of the Realm’s citizens believe h
umans and human tech damage their magic. Chances are none of the three fae with me now want to get too close to me; they’re just too professional to show it.
They’re all former Court fae who served under Kyol. I’ve worked with Taber before, but not the other two, though I have met Brayan, the tall but stout fae standing to my left, once. He was one of the men guarding the storage room where Kyol was holding Naito and Evan, another shadow-reader, during the war. I haven’t seen him since then, but being with the three former Court fae makes this assignment seem so familiar, I almost feel like nothing has changed these past few weeks. Nothing, that is, except our target. We’re not hunting Aren anymore.
“We’re hunting Dyler, son of Jielan,” Kyol says when he joins us. The shadows from his extinguished fissure twist in the air behind him. Fae can’t see them. They don’t feel the itch to sketch out their peaks and valleys. They don’t need to know if the tiny swirl in the middle of the black haze puts us on the east or west side of the river that cuts through the city. I do, though, and my fingers tighten on the sketchbook in my hand. I wish I had the strapped sketchbook I packed in my suitcase, but this one will work, and it will take only a few seconds to slip the pencil from the spiral and draw what looks to be a marketplace just north of the swirl. If I—
“McKenzie.”
I blink. Kyol’s voice is firm, like he’s called my name more than once.
I give my head a little shake so I can focus on him and not the shadows dancing over his shoulder. In the last ten years, I’ve only tranced out a dozen times looking at them. Two of those times have been in the last week. I think sleep deprivation and constantly being on edge is finally getting to me.
“Are you sure you can do this?” His silver eyes don’t soften like they usually would with that question.
“I’m sure,” I say, keeping my voice neutral as well. We both know I’m the best person for this job. “You said we’re looking for…?”
“Jielan,” Kyol says.
I recognize the name. I read the shadows for him just a few months ago. We were looking for Aren in Jythkrila, but the rebels set a trap for us. For me, really. They’d killed and replaced the inspectors at the city’s gate. The inspectors’ job was to make sure the fae who used the gate paid taxes on the goods they took through it. They’d never approached me before, but one did that time. He feigned interest in the sketchbook I carried. By the time I realized something wasn’t right, he locked his hand around my wrist.
Jielan saved me from the rebels. They were my enemy then, so I was grateful. I thanked him. Now, I’m here to help Kyol capture or kill him.
“Up here,” Kyol says, motioning me toward a ladder. It’s only then that I really take in my surroundings. My impressions from the shadows were wrong. We’re nowhere near a marketplace. The ladder climbs up the side of a gray-and-black brick wall. The building is big, stretching more than fifty feet to either side of me. It’s plain, though, with a flat façade and what looks like a flat roof. My guess is it’s a bregorm, a stack house, which is basically the Realm’s equivalent of a UPS. Jaedric, wood, textiles, and other bulk items don’t just appear in merchants’ stores. They have to be brought there, and the fae who harvest or create them don’t have the time to fissure what they’re selling in small armloads to every merchant who might want them. So they bring them here, stacking them in their local bregorm, where other fae agree to the tedious job of hauling them to the nearest gate.
The stack house is the only building I can see. I don’t know what’s on its other side, but there’s nothing but an open field at our backs. It was near midnight in Corrist, but here, it’s maybe late afternoon, which means we’re a good ways to the east of the Silver Palace.
I grab the first rung of the ladder and start up, thinking maybe I’ll recognize the city when I have a better view. It’s close to a three-story climb, but I make it to the top quickly. As I pull myself onto the roof, I notice the thick band of silver edging the building. The metal prevents fae from fissuring up here or inside, but that’s not the only reason we emerged from the In-Between at the base of the ladder. One of Kyol’s swordsmen lies flat on his stomach on the far edge of the roof. His head is pointed away from us and tilted at an angle that presumably gives him a decent view of the door to the building that’s across the street. From where I’m crouched by the ladder, I can only see a roof and the top edge of a window. No one inside should be able to see me, but if we’d fissured directly up here, there’s a chance they might have seen the flash of light.
I stay low and let my gaze sweep across the rest of the area. We’re on the outskirts of a town. Most of the buildings are spread out, but a strip of structures built closely together is off to my far right. I’m guessing they’re stores of some kind, maybe with a few small residences scattered among them. The street they’re on snakes back and forth, and I think I was wrong about a river cutting through the city. That road is the wavy line I saw in the shadows.
“Is he still here?” Kyol asks in Fae, climbing onto the rooftop behind me. Taber and the other two fae remain on the ground below.
The swordsman lying on his stomach nods. His brown hair is cut short enough to see a black cord hanging around his neck. “Yes, lord general,” he says. “He and three others.”
Lord general. The title puts a bad taste in my mouth. I’m not used to Kyol being called that. I don’t think he fits the role. The previous fae who held that position was overbearing, arrogant, and in the end, cruel. Kyol isn’t any of those things.
To me, Kyol says, “The house is protected by silver. Jielan will most likely fissure as soon as he exits, but if he doesn’t, you’ll need to be ready to move.”
“There isn’t a back way out?”
“There is,” he answers, “but he doesn’t know we’re here. He has no reason to exit the other way.”
Staying low, I inch forward until I’m at the edge of the roof. Kyol does the same.
“Where are we?” I ask, moving the buckle of the belt Aren fastened around me so it’s not so uncomfortable to lie on. That moves the sheathed dagger a little more to the left on my back, but I can still reach it fairly easily.
“Spier,” Kyol says.
I stare at him without saying a word. Each of the Realm’s provinces has a capital city with a gate, but Spier is nowhere near any of them. And unless there’s a Missing Gate—a gate not on the public maps—that I don’t know about, the nearest place for me to safely fissure is half a day’s walk from here.
“I needed a shadow-reader,” Kyol says without looking at me. Usually, his tone would be apologetic—he always hated keeping me away from my human life—but it’s firm now, just as it should be. I never needed to be coddled, and as frustrating as it is to be stranded so far away from a gate, it’s good that I’m here. Jielan could lead us to the other remnants. He could lead us to Paige.
I open the notebook on the roof in front of me, taking the pencil out of the spine so that I’ll be completely ready when Jielan comes out. The quicker I sketch his shadows, the more accurate my map will be. I just hope we don’t have to kill him.
“There he is,” Kyol says sharply.
My gaze snaps to the front door. Jielan’s there, stepping outside without so much as a glance at his surroundings. He immediately disappears into a fissure. The light winks out, leaving behind a twist of shadows.
My hand is already dragging my pencil across the sketchbook, dipping into a shallow valley near the continent’s southern coast. Jielan’s stayed in the Realm. He’s even still in Cadek Province, most likely. I scratch down a few more broad strokes—an ocean to the east, a fairly dense forest to the northeast—then flip the page as my mind zooms in on his location. A part of my brain registers that the other three fae who were inside the house have exited as well, but they don’t obscure the shadows. I keep my pencil moving, and within seconds, I identify a dark swirl to the west of a river. It cuts through a village that…
No, wait. It’s not a river. It’s
a street. It’s the street.
“Watch out!” I shout, pushing up off the rooftop and spinning toward the ladder. My warning comes too late. One of the swordsmen waiting below lets out a bellow and the sound of clashing swords rings through the air.
“Stay with her!” Kyol orders, already moving. The fae wearing the black necklace takes up position at my side, sword drawn. I know Kyol wants me to stay up here, to stay safe, but as he disappears over the side of the roof, I grab my sketchbook and scramble to the ladder. Jielan might fissure away. If he does, I need to map his shadows.
I peer over the building’s edge just as Taber deflects a hard swing from Jielan, then counters with an attack of his own. Both their swords move impossibly fast, diving and slicing and stabbing through the air. Taber retreats a step, stumbling. He doesn’t look injured, but I’m certain I see red on Jielan’s blade. I don’t know if it’s from Brayan, who’s scrambling back to his feet, or from—
I spot a wisp of white shadow. Yes, the blood must be from the other fae. He’s nowhere to be seen now because he’s dead. Jielan killed him. All that’s left to mark his existence in this world is his soul-shadow, and even that disappears when Taber lunges through it, his blade narrowly missing Jielan’s shoulder.
Then Kyol’s there, leaping off the ladder and drawing his sword. Jielan sees him. He has to know he’s outmatched and outnumbered, but when he fissures, he doesn’t leave the fight. He emerges from the In-Between only a few feet away from where he disappeared. It’s the perfect position to snake his arm around the neck of a still-unbalanced Brayan. Jielan pivots, pressing his back against the wall and using Brayan as a shield.
“Taltrayn.” Jielan uses Kyol’s family name, not sounding surprised or concerned.
Kyol advances slowly now, moving away from the ladder in deliberate, measured steps. “You’ll lose this fight,” he says, stopping several paces away from Jielan.
Taber holds his position to Kyol’s left, waiting for his commander’s order. Kyol and his swordsmen are the most disciplined soldiers in the Realm. They’re all duty and sacrifice, and even though I can’t see Brayan’s face from my rooftop position, I’m sure it’s as unreadable as the others’. He’ll accept whatever action Kyol takes, even if it leads to his death.
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