“This is the rebels’ work,” Kyol says. “Jorreb’s work. When he captures Court fae who might have knowledge of our plans, he takes them to your world and locks them in a room with tech. For hours, for days, for weeks sometimes. As long as it takes to break them. When the rebels have what they need, they send them back like this.”
These fae aren’t like the tor’um in Lynn Valley. Those fae were born without the ability to fissure; they didn’t live their whole lives normally only to have their magic crushed by human technology. Kyol’s described this sickness to me before. He said the fae can’t handle the loss, the damage to something that’s so integral to their existence. Their minds break. Shut down. Close off. And they become . . . this.
Kwinn begins rocking and moaning. I close my eyes, trying to cope with the mix of emotions tangling through me. Aren’s not innocent. He did this.
Kyol’s hand slides down to grasp mine. “I’ve never wanted you to see the horrors of war. Your nightmares are bad enough without seeing fae waste away like this. I’ve kept certain things from you to keep your conscience clean and to keep you safe. Maybe that was a mistake.”
I didn’t need to be coddled. I needed to be given all the facts so I could make my decisions based on what was real, not on someone’s twisted version of the truth.
“Is this not enough?” Kyol asks.
I say nothing. This . . . this torture is one of the things Aren kept hidden from me. He knew it would bolster my resistance to him. And it does. I swear the anchor-stone pulses in my pocket, urging me to hand it over. Are there no good guys in this war?
“Just take me back to my world.”
Kyol’s jaw clenches. “You need more evidence? Fine.”
He pulls me from the room. The blue glow from his torch lights the corridor. We descend another staircase, take a left turn, and eventually stop in front of an iron gate guarded by two swordsmen. They acknowledge Kyol with nods and me with mildly curious glances. The fae on the left turns a key in the lock and swings the gate open.
Swords, spears, bows, and other weapons are propped up in racks against both walls while jaedric cuirasses, helms, and other protective gear I can’t identify are layered in waist-high stacks down the center of the long room. They’re covered in a fine layer of dust, suggesting fae rarely come down here for their gear. A waste. Aren could equip the entire rebellion with a third of the armor and weapons stored here.
Kyol leads me through the labyrinth of arms. At the far end, the room takes a sharp left turn and a fae—I recognize him as Garrad, one of Kyol’s swordsmen—rises from a chair. Kyol signals him to sit as he crosses to the stone wall on the right. He drags an old, wooden cart out of the way and then makes a fist with his right hand before flattening his palm on a stone high up on the wall. Just like with Lorn’s escape tunnel in Lyechaban, blue light surrounds the rectangle, and a moment later, a three-by-five-feet section of the wall grinds aside.
Kyol wedges his torch into the groove in the stone floor and then pulls me beneath the low overhang.
“Now!” someone shouts from inside.
Kyol shoves me back as he draws his sword, swinging and narrowly missing—purposefully missing—the lightning-streaked human charging him. A second man launches himself at me, but Kyol’s there throwing a fist into a face I recognize as Naito’s one second before it hits. The thud of Naito colliding with the back wall echoes in the small stone prison.
“Sword-master?” Garrad rushes into the room, sword at the ready.
“It’s under control,” Kyol says. The guard glances between the two humans, nods once, then retreats back to his post.
It takes me longer to comprehend everything that just occurred than it took for it to actually happen. Now I’m staring at Naito, who’s staring up at me, his right cheek already swelling.
“McKenzie?”
“Naito.” I fall to my knees beside him and help him sit up. “God, I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet,” he says.
Relief floods me and I’m shaking because maybe I wasn’t a complete fool. Maybe I didn’t entirely misjudge Kyol. I peer over my shoulder. His sword is still drawn, the steel a barrier between the other human and me.
I turn back to Naito. “Are you okay?”
“I think my face is shattered but I’m alive.”
“We have to get you out of here.” I help him to his feet, then glance at the other human. “Both of you.”
“That’s not possible,” Kyol says. He still hasn’t lowered his guard.
“You can put your sword away,” I tell him. When he doesn’t budge, I stand and place my hand on his, making him lower the weapon. Edarratae thrum through my fingers.
Slowly, he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “If I hadn’t taken him through the gate, kaesha, he would have been killed. If I hadn’t later agreed to execute him, he’d be dead.”
“Aren’t you a fucking hero,” Naito says from behind me. A muscle twitches in Kyol’s cheek.
I glare over my shoulder. “You’re not helping.”
Naito crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “I want out of here. I’m not staying locked up for weeks or months like him.”
The other human does look like he’s been here awhile. A grungy shirt hangs over his lean frame and a scraggly beard covers a face that I’m sure would be pale if it weren’t covered in dirt. But he’s alive. They both are. Because of Kyol.
I turn back to him. “You can’t keep them here forever.” “I don’t plan to,” he says. “Tell us where we can find the rebels, McKenzie. When we end the war, I’ll send them both back to your world. I swear it.”
The diamond necklace is heavy in my pocket, but the Court no longer has my allegiance. I won’t help them, not ever again.
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes. Pain? Disappointment? I can’t be sure.
“Kyol, please,” I try again. “They can’t stay—”
“They’re alive. That’s all I can do right now.”
Before I can say anything else, he pulls me from the cell. When he turns to pick up the torch from its groove in the floor, I catch Naito’s eye. I hope the look I give him is reassuring. I hope it tells him I won’t leave him imprisoned. I’ll find a way to get both humans out of here.
I’M not qualified to plan a jailbreak, but I don’t have a choice. As Kyol leads me out of the palace’s basements, I’m plotting how I’m going to return. I’m going to need help breaking Naito and the other human out. That much is clear.
We don’t say anything to each other as we walk, not until we stop in front of the door to a room I’ve stayed in before. He takes my hands in his. My gaze darts down both ends of the corridor, but no other fae are in sight.
“I love you, McKenzie,” he tells me quietly. “Despite what you heard today, I meant what I said last night. I want to be with you. In your world or mine, it doesn’t matter. But I can’t abandon Atroth with the rebels still trying to overthrow him.”
Edarratae dart down my arms, over my wrists and hands, and into him. Things aren’t okay between us. He didn’t kill Naito—thank God for that—but he’s let me believe in things that aren’t true.