“Kyol!” I scream, but even if he could hear me, he can’t fissure. He wouldn’t make it to the remnant in time.
The fire in the fae’s hand turns blue.
My decision is already made. I’m already running, sprinting away from the palace. I have to get there in time. If I don’t, Kyol is dead, half the rebels and remnants out here are dead, and the eastern wall will be in ruins.
I’m running as fast as I ever have before, but I won’t reach the fae. I can only do one thing. If I fail, we’re all dead. If I succeed…
I promised Aren I’d be careful. This isn’t careful. I’m going to die doing this.
The ball of flame leaves the fae’s hand, but I make it in time, leaping between it and the scaffolding.
There’s a whoosh when the magic-wrapped flames slam into my right shoulder.
Shock stabs through me as I’m flying through the air. I expected the flames to be intangible; I didn’t expect them to be as solid as a cannonball. My back hits the edge of the scaffold and something in my chest—a rib or my collarbone—snaps. I don’t feel the pain of the fire until after my vision turns orange and red. Then some part of my mind notes that my skin is burning. My hair, my clothes, my shoelaces…they’re all aflame.
Another part of my mind notes that I’ve hit a beam supporting the right edge of the scaffold. And a third part of my mind—the tiny, naïve part that believes I have a chance to survive this—chants, Stop, drop, roll. Stop, drop, roll.
I stop, drop, and roll to my back. There’s a loud crack above me and a trembling in the wall. A section of it shakes loose. I see the stone blocks falling toward me just before my vision goes black.
I should be dead. I want to be dead. My leg is broken, my knee pulled up near my chest at a sickening angle.
“Sidhe, no. No!”
I can’t move.
“McKenzie.” Kyol drops down beside me. “Sidhe, don’t move.”
He says my name again as he scans me, head to toe. His hand reaches out like he wants to touch me, but he doesn’t. I’m grateful. My skin hurts. Everything hurts.
“Find Lena!” he barks in Fae.
I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrate on drawing air into my lungs. It’s a difficult thing to do with my throat closing up like this, but Kyol is trying to reassure me. He’s trying to make sure I’m not afraid.
“You’re going to be okay,” he says. He’s wrong. I can’t survive this.
I concentrate and manage to lift my right hand. He sees it. Ignoring the blisters, he intertwines his fingers with mine, and suddenly, there’s so much I want to say. So much I want to tell him. I want him to know that I don’t regret the ten years I spent with him. I don’t regret shadow-reading for him. I don’t regret losing my family, my friends, my human life for him. I don’t regret loving him.
I need him to know all of this, but more important than all of that is the one thing I do regret: leaving Aren. I wanted to have so much more time with him.
“Tell him, please.” My lips hurt when I speak. They feel dry, cracked. Burned.
Kyol leans closer. I swallow, trying to work moisture into my mouth.
“Tell him…” Desperate to make him understand, I tighten my grip on his hand until he bends even lower. “I’m sorry I wasn’t careful and—”
Kyol releases my hand. “No.”
No?
“Please, Kyol.”
“No,” he thunders. “I won’t let you die. You’re not dying.”
There’s so much pain in his voice. I hate it. I hate hurting him. I hate how much I’m going to hurt Aren.
“Aren,” I whisper.
“You’re going to be okay, kaesha.”
“Kaesha,” I murmur.
SUDDENLY, the pain increases tenfold. I gasp, arching my back off the ground. I can’t touch it anymore, can’t touch anything.
I cry out again, draw in one deep breath after another after another until…I relax, my breathing slows, and I’m okay.
I’m okay. I know it’s shock. My mind isn’t able to process the pain. It’s shutting down. I’m grateful for the reprieve, grateful that I can say to Kyol, “Let me go.”
He shakes his head. Tears streak down his face. I’ve never seen him cry before.
I’ll never see him cry again.
“It’s okay. I don’t hurt anymore. I’m not afraid.”
“I can’t, McKenzie. I can’t.” His voice cracks. “I love you. Sidhe, I know I have no right to tell you this, but I do. I always will.”
I try to tell him I understand, but all that comes out is an incoherent mumble. I close my eyes.
“CAN you hear me? Say…” Something. Kyol wants me to say something. I’m too weak, too cold to do anything more than murmur a few syllables, but that’s not enough for him. He demands me to keep talking. I try. I try until I feel my heart lurch and then…
TWENTY-EIGHT
IT’S DARK. EONS pass.
MY heart is beating, but I feel wrong. Overfull. I’m distantly aware of someone above me. He’s talking, demanding some kind of response from me.
Aren?
He wants me to open my eyes. He says my name over and over and over again.
“MCKENZIE.” A different voice shatters the dark. Kyol’s voice. I try to murmur his name, but my lips won’t move.
“Open your eyes, McKenzie.” His order is wrapped in fear and hope. They’re such odd, conflicting emotions. I need to see his face. Need to see his eyes, his mouth. I need to see him.
I concentrate, pour all of my strength and willpower into the monumental task of opening my eyes.
It works. I see the blur of a ceiling high above me, a hazy silhouette nearer, leaning over me.
I blink until Aren’s worried face comes into focus.
“Thank the Sidhe,” he whispers. Then his lips are on mine. My mouth tingles, and chaos lusters spark between us as we kiss. I remember his touch, his taste, his scent, but I’m distracted. Something is off. I can’t concentrate on Aren because Kyol is hurting. Was he crushed under the wall as well?
My chest is tight. I feel panicky. I need…I need…
“I’m here, McKenzie.”
I turn my head, and he is there, crouched just behind me. We’re in the small room hidden in the wall behind Lena’s throne. The last time I was here, Atroth was still king. I was still on their side of the war.
I roll to my stomach so I can see him better. A mistake. Pain stabs through me.
“McKenzie,” Aren says, his voice alarmed. “Don’t move.”
I don’t think I’m completely healed, but I have to know what’s wrong with Kyol. He’s hurting more, now. I can see it on his face.
I try to push up. Aren’s hands are on my shoulders, keeping me still. I ignore him, still struggling to rise until Kyol places his hand over mine.
“Rest.”
That one, simple word makes me relax. I can’t hold my weight up anyway. I let Aren settle me back down. He carefully places me on my back again. Everything hurts. My bones, my joints, my skin. Black spots blur my vision. I need to sleep.
I think I actually do. When I open my eyes this time, I feel more settled. I can focus on Aren.
“The fight?” I ask. The fact that someone brought me to this hidden room and not my bedroom might mean it’s still going on.
“Most of the wall held. The new Sidhe Tol is protected.”
I breathe a little easier. Something went right today.
“You look awful,” I tell Aren. And he does. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face looks pale except for a smear of red on his cheek.
“With your injuries…” Aren’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how you survived long enough for me to reach you.”
“You healed me?” I feel the question wrinkle my forehead. He was somewhere in my world, fighting at a Sidhe Tol. Lena should have been easier to find. “Is Lena okay?”
“I fissured directly to the veligh after we secured the Sidhe Tol. If I hadn’t…” He swallows, re-colle
cts himself. “Lena’s fine. She’ll be here soon.” His touch is gentle as he brushes my hair back from my face. It’s as if he’s afraid he’ll break me. He doesn’t know how I survived. I don’t either. When I blocked the flame, I knew I was going to die. I remember it hitting me, remember burning.
I remember Kyol.
I start to crane my head so I can see him, but he comes to my side, sparing me the effort. I analyze his face. He’s wearing a perfectly impenetrable mask. There’s no tension in his mouth or at the corners of his eyes. Something isn’t right, though. I’d swear he’s…anguished?
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
Kyol doesn’t answer. That’s weird. I mean, even if something’s wrong, and he doesn’t want to tell me, he’d say he was fine. Why doesn’t he tell me he’s fine?
“He’s okay, McKenzie,” Aren says. He touches my forehead. I feel his magic—I think he’s trying to heal the headache growing behind my eyes—but I push away his hand and sit up.
That’s definitely a mistake. Aren brought me back from the brink of death, but I am not well. A prickling sensation moves through my hands and feet, like they’ve fallen asleep and are just now waking up, and my muscles protest. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean forward, fairly certain I’m going to vomit.
“Lena,” I hear Aren say. “She’s hurting, and I’m spent. Please.”
She says something back to him in Fae, but she’s speaking too softly for me to make out the words.
Then, she’s at my side. “Lie down.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to lie back down. If I do, I might never get up again.
“Lie down,” she says, and this time, she puts her hand on my chest.
I’m not strong enough to fight her. I fall to my back.
She finishes the work Aren started, mending bones, reattaching muscles and tendons, repairing my skin. It hurts, but I don’t make a sound. I’m not sure if I have the energy to cry out anymore.
I must fade off again. When I wake this time, I feel better. Tired, but better.
Lena is still kneeling beside me.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” I say. My voice is stronger now.
“I’m glad you are as well,” she says. I actually think she means it.
She moves aside, letting Aren take her place. He intertwines his fingers with mine, and I feel him tremble. Just for a second, and it’s not due to my edarratae. Jesus, he’s close to burnout because of me, and I’ve been focused on Kyol this whole time. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He smiles. Then he bends down to kiss me.
It’s only when our lips meet this time that I truly believe I’m going to live. He grounds me to this world, and I pull him more tightly to me. I make sure he knows I want him. I love him. Then, I’m suddenly aware that there are others watching us.
Kyol’s watching us.
I pull back. Aren’s eyebrows dip in concern. “What is it?”
“It’s…Kyol.”
There’s no hurt or anger in Aren’s expression now, just worry. Simultaneously, our heads turn to look at Lena’s lord general.
And that’s when his composure cracks. His shoulders slump and the silver in his eyes darkens with…pain? Why is he hurting so much?
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t let her die. It was the only thing I could try.”
Beside me, Aren stiffens.
“What did you try?” Lena asks.
Kyol looks at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much fear in his eyes.
“It shouldn’t have worked,” he says.
“What did you do, Taltrayn?” Her words are soft, almost consoling, as if she can ease the confession from his lips.
His gaze returns to Aren.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
There’s murder in Aren’s eyes, in the way he draws in a slow breath, lets it out as he rises.
“You should leave, Taltrayn,” Lena says, her voice still cool, still calm.
Kyol doesn’t budge. Aren does. His hand clenches on the hilt of his sword as he takes a step forward. The muscles in his forearms and biceps tremble. It’s like he’s fighting a war with himself.
“Now, Taltrayn,” Lena says.
Kyol’s jaw tightens. He looks at me again, and my heart rips in two. It takes everything in me not to go to him, comfort him.
He winces, then starts for the exit.
Aren steps into his path.
“The only reason you still breathe,” he whispers, “is because killing you would kill her.”
I feel sick as I watch Kyol leave. It’s not just because I nearly died today and not because I’m weak from being healed. Nothing makes sense right now.
I look at Lena. She seems to be the only sane person in the room.
“Aren,” she says. “You should go to your room. Rest.”
“I don’t need rest,” he grates out. He’s staring at the exit Kyol disappeared through.
“Then you must feel well enough to heal the remaining injured,” she says. “Go. And stay away from my lord general.”
“Aren,” I say before he walks away. He looks at the open doorway. There’s determination in the way he clenches his jaw. I’m still sitting. I start to rise, knowing I can’t do it on my own and knowing he can’t help but come to me and help.
I hold on to the arms that hold me, but when I lean into him, he’s rigid, and his expression is impenetrable.
He swallows. “We’ll talk tomorrow, McKenzie.”
I’m too shocked to stop him when he walks away. His words sounded like a good-bye.
“You can feel Taltrayn,” Lena says. She doesn’t say anything more than that. She’s waiting for me to understand, but I already do.
“That’s impossible,” I say.
“It shouldn’t be possible.”
Kyol formed a life-bond with me. I can feel it, feel him. He’s making his way through the statue garden, I think. I can’t see what he sees, and I don’t know his thoughts, but he’s like a blur of emotion just beyond my reach. And now, he’s angry and hurting.
“How did this happen?” I whisper.
“You wanted it to happen.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “I didn’t—”
“I’m not saying you wanted him, but a life-bond won’t form unless both parties wish for it to. Kelia certainly didn’t want Lorn. She wanted to hurt Naito.”
“Hurt Naito?” Was that before they fell for each other?
Lena waves away my question. “You’ll have to ask him about that. But in your case, it might have been that you just wanted to live. The bond connected you to Kyol. He connected you to this world. He allowed you to cling to life long enough for Aren to reach you.”
I knew that fae share magic through life-bonds, and that the bond makes both fae stronger; I didn’t know it could help hold someone from the brink of death.
“If he hadn’t done what he did, or if the bond hadn’t taken,” she goes on, “I have no doubt you’d be dead.”
Not every bond takes. I know that. The two people have to be compatible on some level, but that’s just it. I’m human, and he’s fae; we shouldn’t be compatible.
“So, I’m the only human-fae bond?”
“Sidhe,” Lena says. “You’re not that special.”
“That’s not—”
“If Kavok were around,” she says, starting for the exit, “I’m sure he’d love to tell you about the others. There were two of them, if I remember correctly. Neither life-bond ended well.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, when she’s almost to the exit.
She turns, and one side of her mouth tightens into a smile. “Back to my duties. I’m going to convince the high nobles that someone else is behind this war. Then I’m going to have Lorn arrested.”
“With no real evidence?”
“Half the palace is in shambles. They’ll be looking for someone to restore order. I won’t mention Lorn’s name until I’
m certain he’s guilty. The high nobles will assume I’m talking about a false-blood. That will cause a number of them to change their minds.”
She leaves then, and I don’t stop her. Kyol’s emotions are becoming clearer, more potent. I don’t know if the latter is because he’s hurting more or if it’s because I’m becoming more aware of the bond, but it’s distracting, almost distracting enough that I don’t catch the significance of Lena’s words.
A number of nobles will change their minds about her. She thinks they’ll approve her as the ruler of the Realm now. If they do, this war might come to an end. The remnants don’t have a Descendant who can challenge her for the throne. They’ll lose support; Lena will gain it. Some of them will fight on—Caelar, for example—but they shouldn’t be able to launch the attacks that they have been these last few weeks.
There may finally be a break in the bloodshed.
ONE day passes, then another, and another. Aren doesn’t come to me as he promised, and I’m afraid to seek him out. I’m afraid that I was right, that his last words to me were a good-bye. I don’t want to confirm them, so I pass the time recuperating from my wounds and drinking cabus.
The high nobles approve Lena as the interim leader of the Realm. It’s not what we were hoping for, but she’s confident she’ll eventually become the Realm’s first queen. She has the power now to restore the provinces Atroth dissolved decades ago, and since she’s technically the high noble of Adaris, she’ll be able to cast a vote for herself. The nobles from the other dissolved provinces will be grateful for what she’s done as well. She’ll have their support.
On the fourth day, I’m close to my breaking point. The life-bond with Kyol has grown stronger, and his pain, his sadness is killing me. I don’t know if I’ll feel him less in my world, but I can’t stay in the Realm, not until I find a way to block out these feelings. And not without having a damn good reason to stay.
So I finally seek out Aren, hoping he’ll be that reason. He’s on the roof of the palace, sitting on its edge and looking beyond the silver wall and out over the Imyth Sea. I think he knows I’m here, but he doesn’t say anything.
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