Naked now, I sink into the tub, letting the warm water swallow me. The only reason Kyol hasn’t already stepped forward as the garistyn is because it’s not the right time. He’ll wait until he’s sure Lena’s place as the Realm’s queen is secure. Then he’ll let the high nobles kill him.
I clench my hands into fists. I won’t let that happen.
TWENTY-SIX
I DON’T INTEND to fall asleep, but climbing out of the tub and pulling on a pair of fae-made pants and a soft, loose top siphons my last ounce of energy. When I lie down on my bed, I pass out, sinking into two sets of dreams.
The first are my usual dreams. They’re dark and terrifying and star more than one of my enemies. Thrain’s face is foremost. It always is. He’s the fae who dragged me into this world. He hurt me. He deliberately made me fear him. But I fear others too, now. Micid, the ther’othi who could walk the In-Between. Radath, the king’s lord general who would have preferred to see me raped and broken in a tjandel rather than helping him hunt the Court fae’s enemies. And there’s a third face now, one that I can’t quite make out in the shadows. I try to force Caelar’s face to fit there, or Tylan’s. I even try a number of the other false-bloods I’ve tracked down over the years, but none of their silhouettes fit.
I’m not sure I’d survive the first set of dreams if it wasn’t for the second. Aren’s in each and every one of them, holding me, touching me, kissing me. Sometimes we’re in the Realm, my white lightning coiling around our bodies. Other times, we’re in my world. He’s taking my breath away against a brick wall in London or I’m kissing every one of his chaos lusters on the Strip in Vegas. And, every so often, we’re in between worlds, making love as we disappear into a strip of radiant white light.
I hold on to every moment with Aren as long as I can, but I toss and turn no matter which set of dreams I’m trapped in until a warm body locks me against his chest.
Aren shushes softly beside my ear until I relax. It’s only then, wrapped in his cedar and cinnamon scent, that I truly sleep.
HOURS later, Aren shifts.
I burrow closer against him. This feels good. It feels normal. I want this every single morning.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’ve been awake for a while.” I grab his hand, intertwine my fingers with his.
“You’ve been asleep for a while,” he says.
“How long?”
“A little more than half a day.” His thumb rubs across my palm. “You’ve missed dinner and breakfast. Another hour and you’ll miss lunch as well.” He nuzzles my hair. “You smell better.”
I grin, then roll to my back so I can see him. He hasn’t been this relaxed and happy in a while, certainly not since we took the palace. He was more comfortable in the role of a rogue who disrupted the plans of the Realm’s ruler; it’s not quite as easy keeping the Realm’s potential ruler in power. But I’ve always known this wasn’t a fairy tale. If it were, everything would have been perfect the second we ousted the king.
I breathe him in, then draw my fingers along the strong line of his jaw. I forgave him with a kiss when we were in Nakano’s compound. I realized I should have used words when I was being held by the remnants. I should have made it absolutely clear that I’m his forever.
So I make it clear now.
“I fell in love with you,” I tell him.
He raises an eyebrow, gives me one of his half grins. “Just now?”
“No, 16.6 seconds ago.” I lightly punch his shoulder. He laughs and pulls me closer.
“I don’t know when,” I say. “Maybe when you gave me that diamond necklace.”
“Ah,” he says sagely. “I’ve always heard humans could be lured in with sparkling rocks.”
My smile widens. “You are so charming today.”
“Aren’t I?” He presses a kiss to my temple. I feel him shudder when a chaos luster leaps to his lips.
He sits up. Swallows. His eyes are a deep, steamy silver.
“You should eat now,” he says, his rough voice sending a stroke of heat through my body. “You’re going to need the energy.”
At first, I think he means that Lena’s going to need my Sight or shadow-reading skills, but the way his gaze locks on me as he brings my hand to his mouth indicates otherwise. His tongue tickles my palm before he releases my hand. Then he picks up a tray of bread and meats off the side table and sets it between us as if that’s the only thing that can keep him apart from me.
My room has suddenly become hot. I have to concentrate on something besides the delicious ache that’s settled low in my stomach, so I pick up a piece of bread, and say, “I’m surprised Lena isn’t beating down my door.”
“She’s meeting with Lorn,” Aren says. “Here.”
He hands me a glass filled with a deep red liquid.
“Cabus?” I ask.
“Yes, nalkin-shom,” he says with a sideways grin.
I make a face as I raise the glass then drink. It really is vile-tasting, but it’ll make me feel better.
“Lena decided to let Lorn back into the palace?” I ask, returning my attention to the plate and trying to decide what will get rid of the taste of cabus the quickest.
Aren places a pillow between my back and the wall. “Only temporarily. He’s still being difficult. He’s helping less and less every day.”
“He’d rather cooperate with a band of merry men than a potential queen.”
“A band of what?”
“Never mind.” I pick up the tongs beside the plate. They’re wooden and similar to the kiddie chopsticks handed out at Chinese restaurants, but they’re a standard fae utensil. I use it to select the stringy, dark meat sitting on the edge of the plate. I think it’s brive. If I’m right, it’s delicious, even though it looks incredibly unappetizing.
“Did Naito talk to Lena?” I ask. Then I nearly choke when I swallow down the stringy stuff. It’s not brive.
“He did,” Aren says, and something in his voice makes me forget about the horrible taste in my mouth. He’s stiff, and his expression is guarded, almost as if he’s waiting for me to lash out at him.
“You know about Caelar,” I say. And Brene, I add silently. Aren’s jaw clenches and unclenches, all but confirming my words.
I give him a tight-lipped smile, then grab a wedge of cheese. After another few seconds, Aren relaxes slightly, realizing I’m not going to make a point about his past.
“He’s made this war personal,” Aren says.
I nod. “That’s why he won’t negotiate with Lena. He wants you dead.” I take another bite out of the soft wedge of cheese, then add, “He thinks you’re the garistyn.”
“Caelar told you about that.” There’s no inflection in his voice.
“He did,” I say, using the same tone Aren did a minute ago. “I won’t let Kyol die.”
He gives me an insipid smile. “I know.”
He retrieves the glass of cabus I set aside, starts to hand it to me, but almost drops it when someone pounds on the door. He’s on his feet, reaching for the sword propped against the wall, when Trev calls out, “Lena wants you.”
Aren lets his hand drop without touching his sword. He looks at me and doesn’t say a word. What? Is he going to pretend he’s not in here?
Trev pounds again. “She instructed me to break down the door if you don’t open it.”
Aren lets out a breath that’s half sigh, half grumble.
“She’ll want to know details about the remnants,” I tell him, setting the tray aside and standing.
Reluctantly, he buckles his weapons belt around his waist. He starts to reach for the door but stops and looks back at me.