The Sharpest Blade ml-3

by Sandy Williams

  “He tried to kill you,” I say, nodding toward the fae as her guards manhandle him down the steps to the first floor. “Does everyone want you dead?”

  She shrugs like it’s a minor thing. “The bounty on my head surpassed the bounty on yours last week. Neither is a small amount.”

  Great.

  Kyol picks up the captive fae’s sword. Lena watches him slide it into his scabbard, then slip on the cloak a guard hands him.

  “You reacted quickly to McKenzie’s warning,” she says.

  He says nothing, but an emotion that feels close to uncertainty pokes a tiny hole in his wall. He did react quickly, especially considering how weak he still is.

  Lena’s mouth tightens.

  “Escort McKenzie to the gate, Taltrayn,” she says after a long pause. “You two need to talk.”

  * * *

  WE make our way through Corrist’s Outer City side by side, but we don’t say anything for most of the walk. Lena sent only Kyol with me. For privacy, I assume. It’s a cold night, so the cloaks she gave us aren’t out of place. Even so, I watch the shadowed doorways and side streets, tense. Kyol isn’t an inconspicuous man. He’s well over six feet tall and broad-shouldered. I’m not fragile or small-framed, but next to him, I feel like I am. He’s always treated me that way, like I’m something to be coddled. That’s part of the reason I ended our relationship. He protected me too much. He still does.

  A gust of wind blows down the narrow street, lifting my hood. I grab it quickly and keep it pulled low, hiding my face. It’s never been safe to be a human in the Realm. We’re all worth something to the fae, and thanks to Aren, I’ve developed a reputation as the best shadow-reader ever to breathe the air in this world. That part of the rumors Aren spread might be true, but the rest of it? I’m not a witch who’s going to suck anyone’s magic dry.

  I don’t realize it for several steps, but my mouth has curved into a small smile. As much as my exaggerated reputation annoys me, I can imagine the light in Aren’s eyes as he crafted it. Rumor spreading is something he enjoys and excels at. He was able to convince the entire Realm that he was the fae who intended to take the throne from King Atroth, not Sethan, Lena’s brother and Aren’s friend. That protected Sethan and his supporters until the very end, and I have to reluctantly admit that my reputation has bought me a few seconds that ended up saving my life.

  “You’re doing well on your own.”

  I glance at Kyol. He’s taken off his hood. We’re near the gate, and the guards Lena’s assigned to monitor it will want to see who’s approaching.

  I shrug. “I have a job.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” he asks. His voice is monotone, and his emotions are muted behind his mental wall.

  “It’s a paycheck.” A miniscule paycheck. “I’m able to live on my own without help from the fae.”

  Half a dozen steps later, he says, “That’s what you always wanted.”

  I answer with another shrug as the street we’re on spits us out onto the flat, hard-packed earth that lies between the city and the gate on the river two hundred yards away. The silver wall that separates the Outer and Inner City is to our right, rising into the night sky and shining in the light of the moon. It’s an oddly comforting sight. I’ve missed the Realm. I can’t remember the last time I was away for so long, and even with the chaos lusters on my skin telling me I don’t belong in this world, I feel more at home here than I did back in Houston. It certainly feels more like home than Las Vegas.

  But I’ll never be safe here. If the price on my head really is anywhere close to Lena’s, fae will go out of their way to hunt me down. They’ll risk their lives to take mine, just like the fae in the tjandel did when he attacked Lena. He was there to enjoy the humans. The elari killed the others who were there, but he happened to be an illusionist himself. They didn’t see him. He could have escaped entirely if he’d fissured out, but he watched what the elari did and, once he learned Lena was there, he was blinded by potential profit.

  We’re halfway to the river. Three swordsmen stand guard on the silver plating that lines the bank. While we’re still well out of earshot, I look at Kyol.

  “You saw him, didn’t you?”

  He doesn’t have to ask for clarification. He knows exactly who I’m talking about.

  “I saw a shadow,” he answers quietly. “An almost transparent image of the fae.”

  Lena thought so. I thought so. He moved too quickly to have just been reacting to my warning.

  “You’re seeing ghosts, and I’m fissuring with tor’um,” I say. “I guess we can consider these positive benefits of the bond.”

  A wince of pain leaks through his mental wall, and I realize the implication of my words: if these side effects are the positive benefits, everything else is a negative.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know,” he says.

  “And I know you didn’t have a choice,” I tell him. “I know it was the only thing you could do, and that it shouldn’t have worked, and if you were really thinking you would have—”

  “It’s okay, McKenzie,” he interrupts again, more firmly this time. It’s his way of telling me I don’t have to say anything.

  I feel like I have to say everything. The life-bond isn’t easy for me, but it has to be worse for him. My emotions are too open. I don’t have as much practice as he does at pretending to be hard and cold.

  Because I know he’s hurting, I change the subject. “Is this false-blood really different from the others?”

  I’m almost certain the answer to that question is no, but he doesn’t respond. My stomach tightens uncomfortably as we walk. I’m about to ask my question again when he draws in a breath to speak.

  “Derrdyn Province has declared its support for the false-blood.”

  I stop walking. “The whole province?”

  He looks back, gives me a single, solemn nod.

  Lena’s right. This false-blood is different. Sethan didn’t even have a whole province declare support for him, and he was a true Descendant. Of course, Aren and the rebels kept his identity secret for as long as they could. Did this false-blood do the same thing?

  “Who is he?” I ask. “Three weeks ago, he didn’t exist.”

  “Three weeks ago, we were focused on Caelar and the remnants,” Kyol says. He starts walking again, and I fall into step beside him. Caelar wasn’t a false-blood. He was one of the king’s swordsmen, and after Kyol killed Atroth, he organized the soldiers who opposed Lena taking the throne.

  “We don’t know the false-blood’s name,” Kyol says after a moment. “His elari call him the Taelith. It’s an old word that means anointed one.”

  “Haven’t they all thought they were anointed?”

  “An entire province has never believed it before,” he says, his gaze focused on the river. His emotions are locked down tight, but I feel an echo of sadness in him. Kyol loves the Realm. That’s why he always put its needs before mine. It’s always been a violent world—for my whole lifetime and for his—yet that hasn’t discouraged him. He’s devoted his life to protecting it, and in his quiet, steadfast way, he’s always been optimistic about its future. He’s clung to the hope that the bloodshed could end.

  That optimism seems diminished now.

  The urge to wrap my arms around him, or at least to take his hand in mine, is almost overwhelming. Instead, I pull my cloak tighter around my body.

  We’re almost to the river. I can make out the blur on its bank that marks the location of the gate. The guards aren’t watching our approach anymore. They’re focused to our right. I look that way and see Kynlee. She’s walking toward us with two escorts. Trev is one of them. That almost makes me laugh. If I weren’t protected by the fae he’s pledged his loyalty to, I’m certain he’d be the first in line to collect the bounty on my head. He really ought to direct his anger elsewhere, though. I’m not the one giving him shitty assignments like babysitting tor’um.

  Kyol doesn’t say anything when he
sees her, but an echo of the shock he felt when Lena mentioned a tor’um fissured me to the Realm leaks through our life-bond.

  He looks at me.

  “I know,” I tell him, because what else can I say? I was completely out of my mind when I came here.

  His emotions soften for an instant, but his hard, neutral expression doesn’t change.

  “They’ll fissure you both back to Earth,” he says, indicating Trev and the other fae with Kynlee. “If you happen to need me . . .”

  He’ll feel it if I do.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say out loud.

  He nods. When Kynlee and her escorts reach us, he says, “Good-bye, McKenzie.”

  I watch him walk away. One step. Two steps. Three. It feels like a gulf opens between us.

  “Hey, Kyol,” I call out.

  He turns. The Realm’s cold night air ruffles through his dark hair and wraps his cloak around his body.

  “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  * * *

  A month ago, fissuring between the Realm and the Earth twice within an hour would leave me disoriented for a few minutes. This time, I’m not even slightly dizzy. That’s definitely a good thing, but it makes me uncomfortable, too. I’m not the same person I was a month ago.

  The other thing that’s making me uncomfortable?

  Kynlee.

  I watch the tor’um as she sinks into the passenger seat. Trev and the other fae brought us back to the Vegas gate so I could get my car, and even though she looks semi-innocent sitting there silent with her arms crossed, she can’t be.

  After starting the engine, I ask, “What is it you want?”

  She toys with a tear in the fabric of her seat, not looking at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Why did you fissure me to the Realm?”

  “You asked me to,” she says, like I was asking her to pass the salt at dinner.

  “No, I asked you to call someone who could do it.” My memory is murky, but I’m pretty sure that’s true. “You volunteered too easily. You didn’t even know what a gate looked like. Have you ever fissured before?”

  “Yes,” she says, looking up long enough to throw a glare my way.

  I make a U-turn, then glance at her, my eyebrows raised.

  “Once,” she adds.

  I stare a little longer.

  “Three years ago,” she mutters. “Across my living room.”

  I should so be dead right now.

  “Traveling through the In-Between is dangerous,” I tell her. “There has to be a reason you risked it with me. So, what is it you want?”

  “I don’t want anything,” she says, sinking back into her seat.

  “Kynlee.”

  “I don’t,” she says. “Look, I was just curious. My dad hardly ever talks about the Realm. I wanted to know what it was like. I’ve asked him to take me there; he won’t.”

  “That’s it? Seriously?”

  “That’s it,” she says.

  Great. I’ve aided and abetted a teenage rebellion.

  “Your dad lives in Vegas with you?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” She stares out the passenger window.

  I turn off the highway. “The city doesn’t bother you?”

  “The city?”

  “The tech,” I say. “The city’s tech doesn’t bother you?”

  “Oh.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s why we live here. All the tech on the Strip makes the chance of a fae coming here and finding us practically zero. I get headaches sometimes, but I just pop a Tylenol.”

  I guess she doesn’t have to worry about the tech damaging her magic. It’s already wrecked.

  Kynlee gives me directions to her neighborhood. It’s close to the library, and it backs up to a newly renovated shopping center with a Walmart, a big electronics store, and several clothing chains. By the time I pull up to Kynlee’s house, it’s well after dark. Even though it’s still hot as hell outside, I pull on the light sweater I keep in my car in case the library is cold. My pants are crunchy from the dried blood, but they’re black, and it’s dark. Someone would have to take a really close look to notice the stains.

  “You can go,” Kynlee says, when I get out of the car. “I’m fine.”

  I follow her to the porch anyway.

  “Seriously, I’m fine,” she tells me. “Thanks for bringing me home. See you later.”

  “I want to talk to your dad,” I say, when she opens the door.

  “That’s okay. Thanks. Bye.” Kynlee steps inside. I’m pretty sure she intends to shut the door in my face, but before she does, a man—a human man—steps into the entryway.

  “You’re late,” he says, glaring at Kynlee. All I can do is stare. I’d assumed her dad was fae. More precisely, I’d assumed he was tor’um. I used to think fae didn’t live in my world—they just visited it and left after they got what they needed—but two months ago I met a group of tor’um who lived outside Vancouver. They were living fairly normal, human lives there. In the Realm, tor’um are looked down on and are all but shunned. At least they were when King Atroth was in charge. Lena accepts them, though. She and her brother were friends with the tor’um in Vancouver. In fact, Sethan died trying to protect them from Atroth’s fae.

  Of course, the reason Atroth’s fae were there to begin with was because the tor’um were sheltering rebels.

  I shake my head, dislodging thoughts of the Vancouver tor’um from my mind. This man can’t be Kynlee’s real dad—human and fae can’t have kids—so he has to have adopted her.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I had to get another ride home.”

  “Who are you?” the man asks me.

  “My name’s McKenzie,” I say. “I met Kynlee—”

  “She works at the library,” Kynlee says quickly. “I had to wait for her shift to end.” She looks at me with wide, pleading eyes.

  “Um.” He’s human, but he knows about the Realm. That means he has to have the Sight. He has to know what his daughter is. And if he’s her legal guardian, he has a right to know where she was, doesn’t he?

  Her father stiffens. He looks at his daughter, then at me, then back at her again.

  “Kynlee.” His voice is low. “Where are your gloves?”

  She’s not wearing either of them. Her arms are bare, and the lightning striking across her skin is pale and erratic. Is it more frequent than usual?

  It must be. He grabs her wrist as if that will help him inspect her edarratae more closely. “What have you been doing?”

  Kynlee sighs in defeat. “I was just helping her, Dad.”

  “Helping her with what?” He eyes me.

  Ah, hell. This is going to go so badly.

  I clear my throat. “She fissured me to the Realm. I shouldn’t have let her. I wasn’t in my right mind, and I’m sorry.”

  He doesn’t immediately slam the door in my face. He peers up and down the street, searching for fae, I presume, then he shoves Kynlee inside, and says, “Stay the fuck away from my daughter.”

  If I had been standing one inch closer, the slamming door would have bloodied my nose.

  FIVE

  IT’S JUST AFTER 10:00 P.M. when I pull into my apartment complex and turn off the engine. Physically and emotionally exhausted, I climb the steps to my second-story apartment and unlock the door. My place is tiny—a six-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment in a bad part of town—but it was renovated just before I rented it, and I can actually afford the rent without help from the fae. It’s mine—so is the used car I parked outside—and there’s something satisfying in knowing that I can make it on my own.

  “Sosch,” I call after closing and locking the front door. The kimki has been living with me these last three weeks. I’m not sure if that’s by choice. He showed up in the hotel suite I was staying in a few days before I moved out, and since a fae hasn’t been in my new apartment, Sosch has been stuck with me. The only way he can get back to the Realm is by piggybacking through a fae’s fissure.

  I expect t
o find him curled up on my couch. He’s not. He’s on the kitchen counter—a place where I’ve explicitly told him not to be half a hundred times—and he’s glaring at me like I haven’t fed him in a week.

  “I fed you this morning,” I tell him, grabbing a box of Goldfish out of the cabinet. I pour the crackers into a bowl on the floor. Sosch still doesn’t look pleased. He holds grudges worse than any person I know.

  Whatever. I’m too tired to cheer him up. I leave my keys on the counter, then walk to my bedroom door.

  My closed bedroom door, I realize only after I’ve already started to push it open. I never shut it.

  Instinctively, my muscles tighten, bracing for someone to come barreling out at me. The someone doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s tied spread-eagle to my bed.

  What the hell?

  The man is awake, his mouth is duct-taped shut, and he’s glaring at me with murder in his left eye. His right eye is swollen shut. His lower lip is split, and I’m pretty damn sure I see blood on my sheets. He’s had the crap beaten out of him, and I don’t know whether I should cut him free, take the rag out of his mouth, or just leave him completely alone.

  Something clatters to the floor in the bathroom on the other side of the wall. I curse under my breath, quickly pull the bedroom door shut, then dart to my couch, where I’ve hidden the sword that Lena insisted I keep. I get it unsheathed and spin toward the bathroom just as the door opens.

  Lee, a human who quickly ended up on my shit list when I met him a month ago, steps out. He stops when the point of my sword touches the middle of his bloodstained shirt. His dark brown eyes look at the long blade, then his gaze meets mine.

  “How did you find me?” I demand. “And who the hell have you tied to my bed?”

  His eyes narrow. I have no idea why. If he thought he was going to just show up and tie a man to my bed without me asking questions or taking precautions to protect myself, he was wrong. He’s lucky I didn’t skewer him on sight.

  “There’s no need for that,” he says, indicating my sword with a duck of his chin. When he makes a move to swat it out of the way, I turn the blade so that its edge, not its flat end, meets Lee’s hand. Fae keep their swords sharp. It cuts into his fingers even though his touch was light.