“It’s not a bad idea,” Lorn says after a moment.
Nalst speaks up from his spot beside the fireplace. “The high nobles might consider her over Atroth if they believed the Zarrak line contained more of the Tar Sidhe’s blood. They don’t.”
Lorn glances at me, hesitates. After a quick look at Aren, he says, “With Taltrayn’s support behind Lena, they’d consider it.”
I sniff. If only. “I already tried to get him to leave the Court. He won’t abandon his king.”
No one says a word. That’s odd. What’s even odder is, when I scan the faces around me, no one meets my gaze, not even Aren, who’s staring, jaw clenched, at the hilt of his dagger.
Something twists through my stomach. “What?”
Kelia shifts in Naito’s arms. She knows something I don’t. They all do.
“The king’s ordered Taltrayn to be executed,” Lena says.
A chill sinks into my bones. No. Atroth wouldn’t execute Kyol. They’re friends, have been for decades. I wouldn’t have left Kyol if I thought he’d be hurt. Lena has to be misinformed.
But no, Aren’s expression confirms it. There’s a defensive glint in his eyes, but they’re sharp, almost threatening, too.
“You weren’t going to tell me.”
His face is like a stone. There’s no remorse there, no apology.
“Did you think I wouldn’t want to know?”
“You didn’t need to know.” He chunks his dagger down on the coffee table; it slides off the other side.
I suck in a shallow breath. The air isn’t cold enough to quell the hurt burning in the pit of my stomach, and I’m too pissed to do anything but stare. He stares right back at me.
“So sorry to interrupt what I’m sure will be an interesting little quarrel,” Lorn says from the sofa-chair. “But if Taltrayn abandons the Court, the nobles will take note. They trust him. They know he’d never change his allegiance without reason. They’ll consider your cause. They may consider Lena.”
A muscle twitches in Aren’s cheek. “We don’t need him.”
“We do,” Lena says.
“We don’t!” Aren’s eyes flash. “Besides, he’s in the dungeons beneath the Silver Palace. We can’t get to him.”
“We could if we knew the location of a Sidhe Tol.” Lena looks at me.
I grab a sketchbook off the coffee table. I found it last night and started drawing all the shadows I could remember. Flipping through the pages, I find the map I’m looking for. It isn’t my most accurate map—I sketched it in the dirt while I waited for Kyol to speak to the Sidhe Tol’s guards—but the rebels have Sosch. The shadow-reading will take them close enough for the kimki to find it.
“Moldova,” I say, jamming my finger down on the center of my sketch. I’m with the rebellion now. There’s no reason to withhold the gate’s location.
“Moldova?” Naito says. “That’s in this world.”
It is. Aren doesn’t seem to care.
“You give me the Sidhe Tol now,” he all but snarls. “For him.”
“I would have given it to you anyway.”
He laughs.
I dig my fingers into my knees, attempt to hold on to my temper, but I’m too tired for this. “Don’t be an ass, Aren. You need him. If he’s going to be executed, he knows he can’t reason with the king.”
“So that’s how it is,” he says. “You want me to risk my life for his.”
“I—” I stop. Jesus, that’s what I’m asking, isn’t it? With the Sidhe Tol, Aren has surprise on his side, but he still has to get out of the Silver Palace. It won’t be a simple rescue. He might not make it. How can I even ask him to try?
“Aren—”
“I’ll talk to our other supporters. I’ll make them listen.” He stands and abruptly opens a fissure.
“Before you go,” Lena says, “you should shower and change clothes.”
Her suggestion comes out more like an order. Aren stiffens. I’m certain he’s going to ignore Lena and step through the slash of light, but then his shoulders relax. He lets his fissure disappear. “I won’t change my mind on this.”
Lena returns his stare, but says nothing. The living room is silent for a long, tense moment before Aren finally heads to the hallway.
“Somebody is short-tempered today,” Lorn says when he’s gone.
He has reason to be. He’s exhausted and frustrated. He’s lost friends, the rebellion is falling apart, and I just asked him to save the life of one of his enemies.
I scrape my fingers through my hair. I don’t want to hurt Aren, but Kyol would do anything to save me. I can’t abandon him. There has to be a way to help him without Aren being involved.
I look up, and my eyes find Lorn. Maybe?
“No,” he says, preempting my question. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your advantage, McKenzie. The Sidhe Tol isn’t useful to me if others know its location. Besides, you still owe me for saving your life in Belecha.”
“Then I’ll owe you again. Kyol will owe you.” I hear the desperation in my voice, but I’m too worn-out and shaken to try to hide it.
“Now you’re offering favors that aren’t yours to give away,” he says. “No, I’ve done far too much already. My people can’t be involved in a raid on the palace. If Aren has no interest in freeing Taltrayn, then this rebellion is over.”
He sounds so nonchalant. He really doesn’t care about the rebellion.
“I need to speak to McKenzie alone.”
All eyes turn to Lena. She doesn’t look eager to talk to me. In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t want to talk to her either, but, well, things have changed.
Lorn stands. “It’s past time I leave, anyway. Kelia, you will stay out of trouble, won’t you, my dear?”
When she doesn’t answer, just raises an eyebrow, he sighs. “Then do send for me before you do something foolish.”
He’s the only fae who fissures out. I watch his shadows bend and shift as the others go out the back door. It’s quiet when it closes behind them. The only sound is the squeak of the shower being turned on. Not wanting to remain sitting on the floor for this conversation, I move to the chair Lorn vacated.
Lena still doesn’t say anything. I hate the silence. I hate sitting here not knowing if Kyol’s alive, not knowing if I can get to him in time or if I can get to him at all. But it seems wrong and selfish to bring him up right now, so instead I say, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
She looks up. I don’t think she believes me. She doesn’t look skeptical, exactly. Her eyes are a muted silver, not bright and sharp, and her expression is as neutral as I’ve ever seen it. It reminds me of Kyol, and I have to wonder if she’s hiding as much as he does behind her mask.
“I didn’t think you would support me,” she says.
I would support Sethan if he were here. Of course, Sethan didn’t advocate killing me. He didn’t break my arm. He didn’t have an obvious vendetta against me. But Lena is the only option we have now. I’m willing to put our past aside and start over if she is.
“Can you get Kyol out of the palace?” I ask.
“Can you convince him to support me?” She doesn’t blink. I want to lie. I want to assure her Kyol will do anything I ask, but he won’t. He’ll do almost anything, and as much as I want to believe his pending execution will erase that “almost,” I don’t think it will. There’s a reason why his support could win Lena the throne: the fae respect him. They trust him. They know honor is etched into his soul. Even though his honor has kept us from being together, I don’t want that part of him to change. Kyol has been the only constant in my life these last ten years. I need him to stay the same.
I need him to stay alive.
“I don’t know,” I say. God, I hope those words don’t get him killed. Lena doesn’t owe me anything. She might not take action without a guarantee, but I can’t give her one. If Kyol doesn’t think she’s good for the Realm, he won’t help the rebellion.