“Mostly,” he says with a devil-may-care grin. It’s both annoying and extremely enticing.
Naito sits beside Lena, but Aren comes to my side of the table. He picks up one of the two bottles sitting on the silver platter in the center of the table and opens it.
“Where’s Taltrayn?” Lena asks.
“He’s at the silver wall,” Aren says, retrieving one of the empty glasses. “When he returns, a swordsman will have him meet us here.”
“Does he know about Caelar?” I ask, watching Aren pour a red liquid into the glass. More cabus, I presume.
Lena rests her folded arms on the table. “Yes. I mentioned Caelar’s name when I told him you were still alive.”
Still alive. Crap. I was primarily concerned about Aren when the remnants captured me because he was the one who saw the illusion of my death, but Kyol wouldn’t have been unaffected by the news. He told me himself he cares about me. He still feels the need to protect me.
Aren sets the bottle of cabus down with a soft thunk, then slides the glass toward me without raising his gaze from the table.
“Did he have any insight on Caelar?” I ask.
Lena’s silver eyes study me a moment before she answers. “Taltrayn respects him. He says Caelar is calm, charismatic, and calculating. But we have his weakness locked in a room underground.”
“Brene,” I say, and Paige’s parting comment to me makes sense now. “We should let her go.”
Lena raises an eyebrow.
“You want to talk to Caelar, don’t you?” I ask. “It’s a good faith gesture. Tell him you’ll let Brene go when he meets with you.”
“Brene might be tor’um,” Lena says, “but she’s still dangerous. She can fight, and she has information on the remnants.”
“Information she’s not telling us,” Aren adds softly. Fae might not believe in ghosts, but his eyes are haunted. Are they haunted because he made her tor’um? Or are they haunted because he wasn’t able to save Lena’s father?
I cup the glass of cabus between my palms.
“Taltrayn has been asking her questions,” Aren tells me. “No one’s hurting her. She’s being cared for.”
He misinterpreted my worry; I didn’t think they were abusing Brene.
Lena lets out a sigh. “We’ll search the mountains again.”
“It might not be their only camp,” Naito puts in. He leans forward to grab a wedge of cheese off the tray, then pops it into his mouth. “And they probably abandoned it as soon as they discovered McKenzie escaped.”
I still think they should let Brene go, but I don’t voice that thought out loud again. Instead, I stare at the crimson surface of the glass of cabus I’m holding, and something tugs at the edge of my mind.
Aren pulls out the chair to my right and sits. “We need to persuade Hison to vote for you. When you’re named queen, Caelar will lose support. He won’t give up his war, but he won’t be a threat to you anymore.”
“He’ll just be a threat to you,” Lena says sourly.
I’m still staring at my cabus. If I didn’t know what it was, I’d mistake it for a red wine.
“You’re more important than I am,” Aren says. “Besides, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”
“He has to be killed or captured,” Lena responds. “I won’t allow him to plot my sword-master’s death.” They continue talking. I know I should be concerned about Aren’s safety—and I am—but I block out their words. Sara runs a wine store that caters to people with expensive tastes. Lorn buys from her. He brings it back to the Realm and sells it.
“McKenzie?” Aren’s brow is creased. He must see something in my face.
I look at Lena. “How did you find me?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, frowning.
“You found me on my campus. How did you know I was there? How did you find out my name?” The few Court fae who knew my name and where I lived on Earth were all trusted completely by Kyol and King Atroth. When the rebels found me, we were surprised they’d managed to learn who I was.
“A letter came,” Aren answers. “It had your name and the name of your school.”
“It was anonymous?” I ask.
He nods.
“Like the anonymous note that told you I was in Nashville?”
He nods again. “And it was like the letter that told us Paige was in London.”
My heartbeat doubles its pace.
“We get dozens of tips every day,” Lena adds. “That’s how we get half of our information.”
“Most citizens who want to help are worried about repercussions if the other side ends up winning,” Aren explains.
“McKenzie,” Lena says, “what are you thinking?”
It’s clear she doesn’t get it—none of them do—but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Atroth was a strong king. Sethan had a lot of support, but it was quiet support. The reason—the only reason—we took the palace was because we had Kyol’s help. He told us the weaknesses in the Court fae’s defenses. The rebels slipped inside, assassinating a few select guards to open up the way for Lena to lead in a whole contingent of her followers. Everything the rebels did had to be done covertly because they were no match for Atroth’s Court fae in an open fight. No fae in the last decade, no matter how charismatic, has been a match for them.
“Kyol swore Atroth never gave the vigilantes my name,” I tell them. “Maybe he was right. Atroth didn’t give them my name. But somebody else did. It’s the same person who arranged for Paige and me both to be in London and to suspect the other side of slaughtering the Sighted humans. That someone is pulling our strings, making us kill each other. Weaken each other.”
“So they can step in and take the palace,” Aren says.
“Or maybe it’s just someone who wants the war to continue. He profits from it. He’s even entertained by it. I think it’s Lorn.”
That statement is greeted with a long silence. I stare at my glass of cabus again. I don’t want to believe it’s Lorn. I want to believe he’s a good person beneath his selfish exterior, but he hasn’t been helping us since we took the palace. I could be misjudging him. After all, I misjudged Kavok.
“He lost Kelia in this war,” Lena says, breaking the silence. “They had a life-bond.”
“Lorn paid fae to protect her,” Aren says. “She should have been safe.”
“He wanted to sever the life-bond.” Naito’s voice is as cold and quiet as ice. He’s as still as ice, too, and his gaze never wavers from the center of the table. I hate seeing him hurt.
“Lorn gave you an anonymous tip so that you’d find me in Nashville. That’s how he works. Was the handwriting on any of the letters you received the same?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “They came months apart.”
Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. I let my gaze sweep the hall, hoping I’ll be struck by inspiration, an idea to prove conclusively that Lorn is manipulating things behind the scenes, but the mirrors don’t offer any answers.
“I tracked Aylen to Eksan,” I murmur, mostly to myself. She was an “associate of an associate” according to Lorn. Maybe it’s more than a coincidence that she fissured to the same city Tylan was captured in.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Lena says.
“I know.” I let out a sigh and focus on the fae entering the room. He doesn’t announce his presence. I don’t find that odd until he’s walking down the length of the table. My brow furrows when he’s two chairs away from Naito, three away from Lena. Neither Lena nor Aren acknowledges the other fae’s presence, and Naito is still staring at the table.
The problem doesn’t click into place until he draws his sword.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“LENA, MOVE!”
My shout startles everyone into motion, and that’s the only reason she survives. Naito’s chair flies back, barely missing the remnant. The fae pauses long enough for Lena to draw her sword. She swings blindly, completely missing him, but Naito’s grabbed ahold of his overturned chair.