“You’re making me dizzy,” Kelia says.
I’m making myself dizzy. Not my fault. There’s not enough space to pace.
I reach the back door, see no fissures splitting the darkness on the other side of its glass window, and pivot. Straight into Naito’s chest. He puts his hands on my shoulders, steers me toward the sofa-chair, and forces me to sit.
“Aren’s broken people out of prison before. Relax.”
“He’s never broken anyone out of the Silver Palace.” I try to stand.
Naito pushes me back down and gives me a small smile. “You managed it. I think he might be okay.”
Not funny. I never should have convinced Aren to go. What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was he thinking to agree?
Naito waits a moment, undoubtedly making sure I don’t try to get up again. When he’s satisfied I won’t, he drops down on the couch beside Kelia. “The Court doesn’t know we have the location of a Sidhe Tol.”
“That gets him into the palace, not out of it.” I eye the arm he drapes around Kelia’s shoulders, wishing Aren was here to do the same. Just wishing he was here.
“It’s a covert operation,” Naito says. “He’s good at this type of thing. The Court fae won’t know he’s been there until it’s too late.”
Kelia rolls her eyes when I stand. I can’t stay still, though. I’ve been shaking for the last few hours, and more than once, I’ve made a run for the bathroom, certain I would throw up. I didn’t. I haven’t since I first got here.
On my trek toward the front door, I grab the camo-colored lighter off the kitchen counter. The candles placed throughout the living room and kitchen are already lit, but my hands need something to toy with. I flick the wheel and let the flame burn a few seconds before extinguishing it.
“How long until that runs out of fuel?” Kelia mutters.
I’m about to tell her I saw another lighter in a drawer when Naito launches to his feet. “They’re back.”
I spin toward the back door just as Aren slams it open. He stalks by without meeting my eyes.
Lena rises from the table when he enters the kitchen. She intercepts him, grabbing an arm that I’m just now noticing is stained red with blood. He savagely shakes off her hand, takes a glass out of the cabinet, and jerks on the water faucet.
The back door rattles again. I wrench my gaze away from Aren in time to see Kyol stagger inside.
Oh, God. His face is bruised and bloodied, his left eye almost entirely swollen shut. Beneath the tatters of his cotton shirt, bright red slashes snake around his ribs and over his shoulders. My chest constricts, imagining his back covered in a meshwork of ugly lacerations.
His good eye focuses on me. He leans heavily on a sword and takes another step inside. He stops. He wavers.
I’m there before he collapses. He hisses out a breath when I grip his arms to lower him to the floor.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Jesus. There’s not a safe place to touch. His skin is ripped to shreds.
He’s still clutching the sword in his hand. I pry at his fingers.
“Kyol,” I whisper, urging him to let it go. He tries to answer but coughs instead, and the wet, gurgling rasp tears at my heart.
Lena drops down beside me. “Move!”
Shaking, I climb to my feet and back out of the way. I don’t breathe until she puts her hands on him. Kyol’s body lurches, absorbing her magic. She’s healing him, thank God. The shallowest lashes begin to seal shut. He’s going to be okay. He and Aren both are going to be okay.
I wait until Lena’s finished before I return to him. He looks so tired. I must as well. His brow lowers in concern. He reaches up to touch my face.
“Kaesha.”
“What happened?” I ask, ignoring the lightning striking through my core and putting a little distance between us because I don’t want to test Aren’s temper.
Kyol’s mask wavers for an instant. “I wouldn’t allow my men to fight in Lynn Valley. I tried to prevent the attack.”
“You failed,” Lena says. Behind her, Aren’s eyes are a sharp, angry silver. His body is so rigid I’m certain he’s one second away from an explosion.
Then, without warning, his shoulders relax. I’m not sure what to make of the transformation until I remember Amy’s wedding reception. As soon as Aren spotted Kyol, the tension slid out of his muscles. The change hit me as odd then, but I understand it now. Aren hides his emotions behind his half smiles and his nonchalance as completely as Kyol hides his behind his impenetrable masks.
“We need to talk,” Lena says. “Clean up. Quickly. Then join us in the kitchen.”
Kyol and I help each other rise.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say. Or I will be so long as he and Aren don’t kill each other. Aren’s doing his best to pretend like nothing fazes him, but his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. “Go on.” I point him in the direction of the bathroom.
Aren watches me as I walk to the table. Lena steps between us, insisting he let her heal him, but his gaze never wavers. It’s almost tangible, and an electric tingle rushes through my body. I glance down at my arms, assuring myself that his edarratae haven’t found some way to leap across the distance between us. No. Nothing but goose bumps on my skin.
I take a seat at the table. When she’s finished healing Aren, Lena joins me. So do Naito and Kelia, but Aren bypasses us and enters the kitchen. He returns a few seconds later carrying a glass of something red. I frown because I swear he’s almost grinning. Then I realize why.
When he sets the cabus down in front of me, I push it away. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I’ll force it down your throat if I have to, nalkin-shom.”
If it wasn’t for the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and the way he called me nalkin-shom, I might be pissed. Instead, a pleasant warmth spreads through me.
“I just need coffee.”
He sinks into a chair and pushes the glass back into my hands. “It’s this or nothing.”
“Nothing is fine with me.” It feels good, arguing with him like this again.
“McKenzie,” he scolds.
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms.
“You should drink the cabus.”
I stiffen at Kyol’s voice. I didn’t hear him approach at all. By the look on Aren’s face, he didn’t either. We were both completely focused on each other.
“It will make you more alert,” Aren says, his smile gone now.
I pull the glass closer, but only because I’m uncomfortable with the way everyone is watching me.
The only empty chair is to my left, so Kyol walks over and takes a seat. He’s close enough that I can feel the slightest warming of the air and smell a hint of soap. He’s wearing the same black pants he had on when he got here, but he’s borrowed a shirt.
“Good,” Lena says. “Now that you’re here—”
“Before we speak,” Kyol interrupts, his attention completely focused on me. “I would take you away from all of this, McKenzie. I’d make sure the fae never found you again. You’d never have to read another shadow.” He touches the scar on my throat. “You’d never be hurt again.”