When the two hours pass, I throw on a cloak, grab my backpack, then make a beeline for the servants’ corridor. My adrenaline is pumping when I slip into the darkened space. I lean against the wall, feel my tranq gun press against the small of my back. The case of syringes is tucked inside my backpack. Just so I’m ready, I take two of those syringes out, keeping them more accessible.
My heart thumps in my chest. It’s so hard to keep still. I need Naito to get his ass here. The servants access this corridor mostly during the early mornings and late evenings, but it’s not entirely unlikely that someone will pass through here in the middle of the day.
Finally, I hear footsteps. It’s the first set I’ve heard in what feels like a millennium, so I’m not surprised when they come into my darkened corridor without hesitation. I am surprised, however, when the face I recognize belongs to Lorn, not Naito.
“McKenzie,” Lorn says, his eyes ridiculously wide. “Why in the name of the Sidhe are you here?”
My nostrils flare. He knows exactly why I’m here.
“Where’s Naito?” I demand.
“He’s with a few of my associates. He regrets that he won’t be able to aid you in this”—he waves a hand in the air as if he’s grasping for the right word—“this little quest of yours.”
“You’re here to stop me,” I say, my voice flat.
“I’m here because I made a promise.”
“A promise to whom?” I demand, taking a step toward him.
“A promise to myself, of course,” he says, as if I shouldn’t expect him to give his word to anyone else. “I intend for Naito to have a long and prosperous life. This desperate and doomed jailbreak would likely prevent that.”
“God,” I say, more loudly than I should.
“God?”
“You’re all the same.”
An eyebrow lifts.
“You all look down on us. On humans. You think we’re weak just because we weren’t born with swords in our hands and because we can’t fissure without a fae. You treat us like tor’um. Those of you who don’t shun us think we need to be taken care of. We don’t. We can make our own decisions, and I’m sick of you trying to take them away from us.”
“Impressive speech, McKenzie, but Lena’s meeting with the high nobles has already adjourned. Hison will be back with his guards any minute now. You won’t have Naito’s help on this.”
My chest tightens painfully, and the fear I’ve been holding back threatens to take over. My hands shake.
“You’re going to help me.” I intend the words to be an order, but my voice cracks, and it sounds more like a plea.
Lorn sighs. “No, McKenzie. I’m going to stop you. Aren is going to die. You’re going to live, and you’re going to move on. You, too, will have a long and prosperous life. That’s another promise I’ve made.”
All I can do is stare at Lorn. He didn’t listen to a word I said. He’s deliberately and consciously taking this decision away from me.
I explode.
“What is this, Lorn? Your fucking revenge?”
“He asked me for a favor.”
“He made it worth your while!” I shove my hands into his chest. He stumbles back a step.
“McKenzie—”
“What did he offer you?” I demand.
“I’m sorry?”
“What did Kyol offer you? I’ll make you a better offer.”
“Kyol didn’t offer me a thing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Calm down, McKenzie. Yelling will only draw attention, and I suspect you don’t want to be caught with the contents of that bag.” He nods toward the backpack I dropped. “The high nobles will hold it against Lena if you’re found with tech.”
“They won’t find me.” If I do this right, they won’t see me. I’m dressed entirely in black and wearing gloves and a tight, hooded jacket. The tranq gun is an issue, but I intend to shoot Aren’s guards long before they have a chance to see it.
Lorn lets out a long sigh. “You’re risking yourself for nothing, McKenzie. I spoke with Aren just over an hour ago. I offered him employment, and he refused me. He asked me to keep you away from him. You think he’s going to change his mind for you?”
“Third time’s a charm,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. That’s the biggest flaw in my plan. What will I do if Aren refuses to be rescued?
Lorn’s lips thin into a tight smile. “I promised him I’d keep you safe. I can’t let you do this. I am truly sorry, McKenzie.”
“So am I,” I say, then I tranq his ass.
NOT his ass, precisely. I aimed for Lorn’s left arm. The dart juts out from his bicep. He yanks it free then his gaze moves back and forth between the dart and the tiny drop of red that’s staining his impeccably clean white shirt.
He looks at me.
“What iss thiss?” His words slur. He stumbles.
I leap forward, grabbing his arm so he doesn’t fall back into the main hall.
“It’s a tranquilizer,” I say, half-carrying him into the darkness of the servants’ corridor. He teeters too far forward for me to keep him balanced. I shoulder him into the wall, and he slides down it.
I lower him to his back. There’s just enough light for me to see his silver eyes blink up at me. He tries to say something, but it’s just a jumble of syllables. His eyes close, then his body goes slack.
Reaching blindly behind me, I grab a syringe from my pocket. I have half a mind not to give Lorn the antidote. He had no right to interfere, and he’s at least partly to blame for our problems with the remnants and the false-blood. But I don’t want to kill anyone, and he did save my life, so I take off the syringe’s protective plastic cover, then jab the needle into his arm.
Seconds later, I’ve recovered the needle, shoved the emptied syringe into my backpack, and reloaded the dart gun. Lorn said the meeting with the high nobles has ended. Hison could be on his way back, or he could linger, talking to the others. If I’m really lucky, he’ll head home to his estate, but I can’t count on that. I might have only minutes to find and free Aren.
My gut knows it’s not enough time, but I won’t give up. I can’t. If I don’t get Aren out of here now, he’s dead.
I pull up my hood, then peek out into the main hall. It’s clear except for one guard standing in front of the closed door to Hison’s reception room. None of the other high nobles had guards on their doors. Aren has to still be here.
From the cover of the servants’ corridor, I take aim. I’m much farther away from the guard than I was from Lorn, and I have zero experience shooting at a target that’s more than ten feet from me, but I line up the sight of the gun and the end of the barrel with a spot on the fae’s neck—the easiest area to hit that’s not protected by jaedric—and squeeze the trigger.
The dart hits low, and the fae reacts so quickly, reaching up to slap at his neck, that I don’t know if the needle actually sunk in.
Shit.
I take out another dart from the inside pocket of my cloak and reload as the fae stares down at the one in his hand.
I raise my gun, but he moves, taking a step away from the door. Damn it, my aim isn’t good enough to hit a moving target.
I’m already running, sprinting up the hallway toward the fae. He sees me immediately, tosses the dart aside to grab his sword. He doesn’t get it halfway out before his knees buckle.