Kyol doesn’t bother answering. He turns to me, tells me he’ll be back soon, then he fissures out.
My gaze locks on his shadows, and I itch to draw them out. I haven’t attempted to shadow-read since Tholm. The earlier worry I had about the bond bringing negative changes circles through my mind again. I wasn’t able to identify Nimael’s location, and I should have been able to. I need to sketch out a map again.
But Kyol’s heading back to Corrist. I don’t need a map to tell me that. As soon as the shadows completely disappear, I head inside.
Lorn tsks as he follows me in. “No thanks for saving your life?”
If I thank him, it’ll imply I owe him a debt, so I follow Kyol’s example and ignore him. I walk to the kitchen and turn on the faucet to wash my hands. Holy crap! The blisters burn.
“You at least owe me an apology, don’t you think?” Lorn says, hovering behind me.
At least he’s back to his usual, haughty self. And he’s found clothes. I don’t know how Nick is going to feel about Lorn raiding his closet, but the black slacks and white button-up shirt fit Lorn’s personality. The shirt is wrinkle-free and crisp, the cuffs buttoned.
“Lena’s the one who arrested you,” I say. “I just told her my suspicions.”
“Lena is a beautiful, vindictive chessra.”
I don’t know what that word means. Something not flattering, I’m sure. And I don’t see how she’s vindictive. She and Lorn worked together against the Court. They’re basically partners. On the other hand, Lorn isn’t the most altruistic person in the world. I’m sure he’s done something to piss her off.
I shut off the faucet, grab a towel, and carefully pat dry my hands. “The fae you had me track in Nashville—Aylen. She fissured to Eksan. That’s where I tracked a remnant to a day later. It was too big a coincidence to ignore.”
He scowls. “Lena arrested me based on that?”
“Not just that,” I say. “You gave her the tip about Paige being in London, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did. That was our deal. I found her for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“How did you know she was there?” I ask.
His expression doesn’t change, but something about him gives me the impression that he’s feeling a little less jovial than a moment before.
“My sources told me,” he says.
“Your ‘sources’?” When he doesn’t respond, I say, “The Sighted humans who worked for Atroth were there. They were dead. And the remnants received an anonymous tip saying that I’d be there. It was a setup.”
He presses his lips together, then says, “That is a little incriminating, isn’t it?”
I raise my hand in a there-you-have-it motion.
“So, do you want to tell me who Aylen is? Why you needed me to read her shadows?”
“In a moment,” he says, turning to look out the window as three fissures rip through the backyard.
EIGHTEEN
WE TAKE OVER the living room, Lena sitting on the edge of a sofa chair while Lorn lounges back in another one with a glass of cabus in his hand. Without so much as a hello to me, Aren drags in a chair from the kitchen. That gets on my nerves. He could at least acknowledge my existence, but he straddles the chair and drapes his arms over the back, all carefree and relaxed.
“Are the breakers in the garage?” Naito asks me, as I take a seat on the couch. He fissured in with Kyol, Lena, and Aren.
“I think so,” I tell him, and he leaves to go find them. Lorn’s edarratae are still slow and erratic, and Lena’s and Aren’s look slightly agitated, too. Kyol’s are steady, though, flashing only occasionally across his face and forearms. He sits at the opposite end of the couch, his mental wall holding back his emotions.
I make an effort to establish my wall, but it doesn’t work very well. I keep looking at Aren. He never looks at me.
The electricity clicks off. I stare down at my hands, which rest gingerly on my knees. Hison has to be blackmailing Aren. I have to find out what he’s holding over his head. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, though. It’s not like Hison will just hand over the information.
My gaze locks on Lorn, a connoisseur of information. If he doesn’t already know what Hison has on Aren, he could find out, I’m sure of it. I just have to find the right price to buy it from him.
“Well,” Lorn says lightly, when Naito rejoins us. “This is a familiar gathering. Are we making plans to lay siege to a high noble’s manor?”
“The false-blood,” Lena says, obviously not entertained by Lorn’s cavalier tone. “You met him. Tell us what you know about him.”
“I know that I want him dead.”
“My patience is thin, Lorn. Give me details.”
“Patience?” He smiles. “My dear, you’ve never had anything of the sort.”
I think he’s trying to get under her skin. Why, I don’t know. She saved his life. He owes her. There’s no need to antagonize her, especially now. Healing him wore her out. The circles under her eyes are darker than they were a day ago. She deserves a break.
“You were going to tell me about Aylen,” I say, before Lena snaps.
Lorn looks at me. He raises his glass of cabus in a small salute, as if he knows exactly why I’ve spoken up. “Yes, Aylen. I had you read her shadows because I believed she was selling information to my competitors.”
“Was she?” I ask.
“She was,” he says, drawing out the last word in a way that makes it clear she’s no longer capable of doing so. Sent to the ether, I imagine. Lorn didn’t become lord of the Realm’s underworld by letting people cross him.
“You could have just told me that,” I say. “Or told Lena when she questioned you.”
“I never had the chance to question him,” Lena says. “The high nobles forced me to release him within a day of his arrest.”
“The false-blood,” Kyol says. The hilt of his sword—his real sword, not the practice one—is clasped between his hands. “You gave McKenzie’s location to him. You spoke with him.”
“I wouldn’t call it a conversation,” Lorn says. “But, yes, I’ve met him and his elari. Aylen wasn’t selling information only to my competitors. She sold it to the Taelith as well.”
“The Taelith,” Lena says, her lips twisting as if the title puts a bad taste in her mouth. “Who is he?”
Lorn sets his glass of cabus down on the side table and leans forward. “He is our nemesis, my dear.”
Lena stiffens. I’m not sure why. If Lorn sees the false-blood as his nemesis as well as ours, it’s a good thing. It means there’s a better chance he’ll help us.
“I need a name,” Lena says.
“I didn’t learn a name.”
“Then tell me how you met him. Tell me something, Lorn.”
“Even my patience is growing thin.” That’s from Aren, who’s been silent until this moment. He’s still sitting backward in his chair, arms draped across it in a way that makes him look sexy and rebellious. He still won’t look at me.
Lorn leans back in his sofa chair and drags a finger around the rim of his glass. “I’m afraid I may have been inadvertently providing the false-blood with information. And supplying him with silver. And weapons. And—”
“Sidhe, Lorn!” Lena explodes to her feet. “Have you abandoned all reason and become an elari?”
Lorn sets down his glass as he stands, too, albeit much more slowly than she does. Kyol rises as a precaution. And a threat. Lorn’s gaze slides to him. He looks more annoyed than worried, though.