“Do you think they’ve found another Descendant?” I ask as I take off my cloak. A Descendant with a traceable bloodline back to the Tar Sidhe, the fae who ruled the Realm centuries ago, might have a stronger claim to the throne than Lena. I might—might—be able to understand their behavior if that’s what has happened.
The palace archivist showed me Lena’s heritage after the king was killed. It confirmed that she’s a Descendant, and that she and her brother, Sethan, would have been high nobles if their parents weren’t murdered and their province dissolved.
Lena turns away from the window, but before she can respond, another voice answers my question.
“If they had a Descendant, they would have told the high nobles by now.”
It’s Kyol. His voice still affects me, sending a warm, anxious tingle through my body. It’s impossible to ignore his presence. Even without turning, I know where he is. It’s like the air itself recognizes his authority, and it’s difficult to describe what I’m feeling. Kyol is the man I loved for a decade, and what we had together didn’t just disappear overnight. I still care deeply for him, but I haven’t seen him in two weeks, mostly because I’ve been avoiding him. Or we’ve been avoiding each other. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, and I’m worried that seeing me, especially seeing me with Aren, will do just that.
But it will be obvious I’m uncomfortable if I don’t acknowledge his presence, so after setting my cloak down on the lowest step of the dais, I finally turn and see him striding toward us. His dark hair lies damp with sweat against his forehead, and there’s a smudge of dirt or ash on his left cheek. Jaedric covers his shoulders and torso, his forearms, thighs, and calves, and even though it’s obvious he’s been fighting the remnants, he’s almost more presentable than Aren, whose jaedric armor is slipshod in comparison. Aren would be the first to receive a new, well-oiled set of armor if he wanted it, but he chooses to wear these patched-together pieces.
Kyol stops a few paces away and gives me a slight nod. It’s the way he always acknowledged me in front of Atroth and other Court fae. Detached but respectful.
“We didn’t tell the high nobles about Sethan,” Aren says. His posture has changed. Before Kyol entered, he was annoyed at Lena, but he was relaxed. He’s not relaxed anymore. His left hand, which was resting casually on his sword’s hilt, has dropped to his side, and his right is now loose and open, ready to draw the blade if he needs to. He won’t need to, though. Kyol has sworn to protect Lena, and he’d never do anything to hurt me. Aren knows that. I don’t think he’s aware of the subtle change in his posture.
“We didn’t tell them about Sethan because we knew Atroth would attack Haeth if he knew who we were,” Lena says, referring to the city she and her brother grew up in. Sethan was the fae the rebels intended to put on the throne, but he was killed by the Court fae outside of Vancouver. If he were still alive, I think the transition to a new ruler would be going much more smoothly. He was prepared to be king, wanted it. Lena’s a different story.
“Maybe no one is convinced you would be different,” I say to Lena. “They might be afraid you’ll attack their homes and friends just like they attacked yours.” Then, reluctantly, I add, “They associate the rebellion with Brykeld.”
Mentioning the city’s name puts the taste of smoke on my tongue. Aren’s known as the Butcher of Brykeld. That’s one of a dozen reasons why I hated him when we met. He wasn’t actually there when one of his men gave orders to seal families inside their homes and burn the city, but most fae don’t know or don’t believe that. I didn’t believe it until I got to know him better, until I saw the pain of the memory in his eyes.
He looks at me now, his expression uncharacteristically closed off. He knows I have issues with some of the things he did to overthrow King Atroth, and I think he’s afraid I can’t get over his past. I’m working on it. This world isn’t my world. It’s more violent, more archaic. On the one hand, I understand that. On the other, doing things like exposing fae to tech until they break or turn tor’um is wrong. The sudden loss of magic makes them go mad. That’s why human technology is banned from the Realm—too much exposure cripples them for life.
I can’t accept Aren doing that or anything like it ever again. It’s one of the many reasons I’m trying to take things slowly with him. We still have things we need to talk about.
“Perhaps we’re dealing with a false-blood,” Lena says into the silence, a silence that grows heavier as we consider the possibility. That’s something we don’t need to deal with right now. I’ve hunted many false-bloods in the last decade, all in an effort to prevent them from gaining enough support to overthrow the king. Most of them were easy to capture. Most couldn’t prove they were Descendants of the Tar Sidhe, so they never had a big, loyal following. But for some false-bloods, that lack of proof didn’t matter. They gained enough support, with either cunning or brute force, to be dangerous. Thrain, the fae who found me ten years ago, used plenty of both.
Kyol shakes his head. “The remnants wouldn’t follow a false-blood so easily. We’re dealing with a fae who is charismatic and smart. I think it’s likely he was one of Atroth’s officers or he was rising in the ranks quickly. He’s looking for a Descendant who can rival your bloodline, but he hasn’t yet found one who’s willing to take the throne.”
No one here misses hearing the “yet.” We’re on borrowed time. I don’t know how Lena’s going to make the high nobles confirm her as queen, but she needs to come up with something soon. I wish I had a suggestion, but fae politics are beyond me. Plus, I have another problem to add to our list.
“There’s something else we need to talk about,” I say. “The remnants abducted Paige.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kyol stiffen. He looks at me, but I keep my gaze focused on Lena, and say, “They put a ward on her purse and left it at my apartment for me to find. That’s why they showed up when I was there.”
“And Paige is…” Lena asks.
“My friend. We went to her sister’s wedding.” “Went to” is stretching it. We were there for, like, five minutes because Aren wanted a public place—one filled with humans—to exchange me for Lena after the Court captured her. “I need your help finding her.”
She stares at me for a good five seconds before she turns and sits on the top step of the dais. If she didn’t look so weary, I’d be annoyed by her lack of reaction. Still, I have to get Paige back.
“What do you want me to do?” she asks. “Assign a hundred fae to search the entire Realm for a single human? Shall I assign a hundred more to search Earth?”
“Lena,” Aren interjects, stepping to my side.
“What?” she snaps. “The remnants attacked the palace because they knew I’d divert resources to save her.”
I manage to draw in a slow breath and count to three before responding, but only because I know she’s stressed and hasn’t been getting much sleep.
“You could offer a trade,” I say. “They took her for a reason. You could at least attempt to—”
“And who should I trade?” she demands. “You?”
Lena and I have never been friends. We probably never will be, and our tolerance for each other has its ups and downs. If she didn’t need my shadow-reading talent and I didn’t need her to bring some kind of stability to the Realm, we would have nothing to do with each other. But the fact is, she does need me, and I need her. I need her to end this war so that I can have some hope of living a seminormal human life.
“If it comes down to that, yes,” I tell her.
I feel Aren turn toward me—I’m sure he has a few things to say about a trade—but I don’t look away from Lena, not until her gaze focuses behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Jacia, daughter of Srillan, limping our way. She’s a former Court fae, one of almost a hundred Kyol convinced to support Lena. She also happens to be the woman King Atroth wanted Kyol to form a life-bond with. That never happened because he was in love with me. I wonder if it’s a possibility now. She’s strong and beautiful, with long, black hair braided over one shoulder and the brightest silver eyes I’ve ever seen.