Thank God.
He face plants before I reach him. I don’t stop to watch him pass out; I throw open the door behind him and burst inside with my gun held up and ready in front of me.
There’s movement in my peripheral vision. I swing the barrel that direction. The fae has her sword out. She moves forward. I wait half a second until I’m sure I won’t miss, then I fire.
The dart sinks in just above her collarbone. It doesn’t slow her down. Reloading my gun, I backpedal. Just as the dart slides into place, she grabs my left wrist.
“Who are you?” she demands in Fae.
I keep my head tilted down so she can’t see under my hood, then I raise my right hand, the hand holding my dart gun and fire it not at her, but at a second fae who’s rising from behind a desk to my right.
“Drop that!” the woman who’s bruising my wrist orders. Why the hell isn’t she unconscious? I try jerking my arm free, but her grip doesn’t loosen.
She brings her sword around and stops with the edge of the blade just touching the black sleeve covering my wrist. Her sword is sharp—she could easily sever my hand—but, finally, her eyes glaze, and she lurches forward. I pull my arm free, but not before the weight of her sword causes it to cut through my sleeve and into my skin.
I bite out a curse. The cut isn’t deep—it’s more like an extreme paper cut—but it stings like hell.
I shake it off, confirm that the fae behind the desk is going down, too, then go back to the hallway and drag in the first guard. Not an easy task. He’s freaking heavy, but I get him inside, then close and lock the door. For good measure, I drag the desk in front of the door, then lean against it.
My breaths come out quick and shallow, as if I’ve just gone through half a day of training with Kyol even though I didn’t even lift a sword. I force myself to slow down my breathing, then I take the antidote case out of my backpack and inject the three unconscious fae. Eight syringes left, one still in my pants pocket.
The woman saw my tranq gun. The fae behind the desk might have as well, but Lee told me there’s a chance they won’t remember what happened a few seconds before they lost consciousness. I hope like hell he’s right.
The door the woman stood in front of isn’t locked. It opens into a short hallway with four closed doors, two on each side. With my reloaded dart gun held ready, I try the first one on the right.
The knob turns. The room is dark and silent as the door swings inward, and I’m about to move on when I hear a familiar chirp-squeak.
I push the door all the way open and step inside. Sitting in the back corner of the room, hands bound to a pipe behind him, is Aren. Sosch is there, snuggled up in Aren’s lap. His blue eyes are bright in the darkness. His whiskers twitch as he chirps again. This time, the sound seems sad, as if the kimki knows something bad is about to happen.
My gaze rises to Aren’s face as I take another step inside. His eyes are shut, his head is tilted to the side and leaning against the pipe he’s bound to. I set my backpack on the ground as I go to my knees in front of him.
“Aren,” I whisper just before I press my lips against his.
His body jerks as he wakes up. I grab the back of his head and deepen the kiss. He gives a little grunt, then leans into me. The knots in my chest unwind as lightning brightens my skin. The edarratae make my mouth tingle, and when Aren nips at my lower lip, I moan. I feel alive again, electric. Now that I’ve had Aren, my body is attuned to him. It responds to him, and all I want is to be with him again. To be with him forever.
Only the fear of that forever being cut short makes me ease away from him.
“We don’t have much time,” I whisper.
His forehead creases. Then he looks around the room. When his eyes once again settle on me, he curses.
“This isn’t a dream,” he says.
“No, it’s not.” My mouth tilts into a smile as I unzip the big pocket of my backpack.
“Sidhe, McKenzie.” His shackles clatter against the metal pipe when he tries to move. “Where’s Taltrayn?”
“He’s unconscious,” I say as I take out a pair of bolt cutters that just barely fit in the bag. Lee knows how to prepare for a jailbreak, I have to give him that.
“Unconscious?” Aren echoes. Then his gaze locks on the bolt cutters. “McKenzie.”
I ignore him, open the bolt cutters, and close them over the thick, silver chain. Not pure silver. It’s friggin’ hard to break. I put all my muscle into squeezing the twin handles together. Finally, the chain snaps, falling to the floor.
“Come on,” I say, holding out my hand to help him up. Edarratae leap down my wrist when he wraps his hand around mine, but he doesn’t stand. He pulls me down, slamming my mouth into his.
This time, Sosch protests my presence, probably because I half fall on top of him. He scurries out of Aren’s lap, and I drop the bolt cutters to run the fingers of my free hand into Aren’s disheveled hair. He drinks in the lightning my body freely offers. I feel it building under my skin, and I shiver as the memory of our bodies wrapped in our chaos lusters strikes through me.
He ends the kiss, tilting his head down slightly so only our foreheads touch.
“Taltrayn was supposed to keep you away,” he says.
“No, he was supposed to free you.”
“McKenzie—”
“You’re an idiot if you thought I’d just sit back and let you die.”
I shove the bolt cutters into my backpack and stand. This time, Aren stands, too.
“We have to hurry. Hison might be on his way back.”
Aren doesn’t budge.
“We have to go now,” I tell him. I’m trying to be patient, trying not to get pissed off because we don’t have time to fight right now.
“You haven’t thought this through.”
“I’ve thought it through to the point where you’re executed, Aren.”
He shakes his head. “No, listen.” He grabs my hand. “Lena is just a few votes short of becoming the permanent queen. Hison hates me—that’s why he won’t vote for her—but when I’m gone, he will. Others will follow his lead.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he says. “He gave me his oath. We signed an agreement. Kelia’s father, Lord Raen, witnessed it. My written confession and cooperation will clear her way to the throne. But it’s not just that. I’ve done . . .” He drops my hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You know I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’m the reason Caelar is still fighting. He’ll stop when I’m dead.”
“Oh, God, Aren. Caelar is weak.”
“He’s working with the false-blood.”
“You don’t know that!” I scream the words this time. I have to do something to get through to him.
He doesn’t retreat. He steps closer, glaring down at me. “If you don’t care about the Realm or Lena’s future, then think about yourself. Think about yourself for once!”
“I’m thinking about all of us! Lena knows nothing of this plan. Once we get out of here, you’ll disappear for a while. We’ll find—”
“Hison won’t believe she had nothing to do with this.”
“We’ll find a good illusionist,” I continue through gritted teeth. “We’ll fake your death. Hison will be happy then.”
“It won’t work, McKenzie.”
“It will,” I say. It has to.
“Sidhe, you’re . . . you.” He grabs my shoulders. “McKenzie, I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love. I want to go with you. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, but my death will solve so many problems and . . . And Taltrayn loves you. You can be happy.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, then he turns his back on me.