My voice cracks over the last word.
“I know,” Kyol says. “I know!”
“I’ll talk to Hison. I’ll tell him . . .” I can’t tell Hison the truth. As angry as I am at Kyol, I won’t let him die either.
Kyol grabs both my wrists, backs me up against the wall. “I’m sorry, McKenzie. Sidhe, I’m sorry.” He drops his gaze to the floor, shakes his head slowly. “I’d tell the high nobles the truth if it wouldn’t kill you.”
My chaos lusters leap from my skin to his. We’re touching, so they’re hot and potent, but my eyes pool with tears.
“It would kill you,” he says softly. Then he swallows and meets my gaze. “The other human-fae life-bonds . . . They all ended the same. When either person died, so did the other. That’s why he’s doing this, McKenzie. He’s sacrificing himself to save you, not me.”
It takes several heartbeats for his words to sink in, but I shake my head in disbelief. That can’t be true. Lorn survived Kelia’s death. I’ve seen other fae survive the deaths of their bond-mates as well. I’ve never heard of both dying.
But, God, what if it is true? Lena told me life-bonds between human and fae always ended badly, and when Aren learned about our connection, he said the only reason he didn’t kill Kyol on the spot was because it would kill me. I thought he meant that figuratively.
“If I die, McKenzie,” Kyol continues, “you die. And if you die, I will. I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry for every time I’ve hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me now,” I say. The words are true on so many levels. He’s touching me, so his emotions, his pain and angst, move freely into me. So does his resolve. I can feel it solidifying in him. I can feel Aren slipping further and further away.
“I know.” He closes his eyes and swallows. He wants so much to pull me into his arms and comfort me.
“You’re not going to help me save him,” I whisper because I need to hear him say it out loud.
“No,” he says. “And I’m to tell you that, if you try to free him on your own, he won’t go. He’s doing what he thinks is the right thing for you. You never should have been caught up in this war.”
I don’t know if those last words are his or Aren’s. It doesn’t matter. Fury builds under my skin, threatening to kindle the breath I draw in. Kyol knows how close to exploding I am. I feel his misery, but nothing I say or do will change his mind because he thinks Aren’s doing the right thing, and he thinks it’s his duty to make sure it happens.
I bite my lower lip and taste blood. Screw them both. They’re not making this decision for me. Aren’s an idiot to think I’ll let us end like this. We won’t. I’ll free him myself if I have to.
“I’ll stop you,” Kyol says softly.
I meet his gaze, see the regret in his stormy eyes. I’ve never felt so betrayed.
TWENTY-THREE
I WATCH LEE drop three white tablets into a bottle of cabus. After they disappear into the crimson liquid, Lee stuffs the cork back into the top, then shakes the bottle to dissolve the pills.
“Are you sure it won’t hurt him?” I ask.
“I’m sure,” Lee says. “Dad used them all the time on fae. They were fine.”
I glance at Naito, who’s sitting on a padded bench. He gives me a curt nod.
“It’ll take ten to twenty minutes to work, depending on how much he drinks, but it’ll knock him out for around six hours,” Lee says, handing me the bottle. I nearly drop it.
“Six hours? I don’t need more than one or two.”
Lee shrugs. “You’re the one who wanted to drug him.”
His nonchalance annoys me. I’m furious at Kyol, but I don’t want to harm him. Lee, though? He doesn’t care about him at all. He doesn’t care about any of the fae. Both he and Naito were raised to hate them, and while Naito’s completely shaken off that brainwashing, his brother hasn’t. He still doesn’t trust the fae.
Lee lets out a sigh. “I promise he’ll be fine.”
I have to accept him at his word.
I turn to Naito. “I can’t give this to Kyol. He’ll know I’ve done something to it.”
“You should be able to hide your emotions better,” Naito says, standing. “I’ll make sure he gets it. Here, you’ll need this.” He takes the bottle, then places a gun in my hand. It’s not as heavy as the firearms I’ve held before, but a similar feeling of discomfort moves through me when I tighten my hand around the metal grip. The barrel of the gun looks odd, most likely because bullets aren’t fired from it. Specially made darts are.
“How does it work?” I ask.
“You pull the trigger,” Lee says.
I roll my eyes at him. “How does the tranquilizer work? Will the fae go down immediately?”
“They’ll be disoriented immediately. Most lose consciousness within twenty seconds.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Shoot them again,” he says. “Then give them one of these if you want them to live.”
He hands me a thin black case. Inside are twelve syringes prefilled with a pale yellow liquid.
“What does this do?” I ask.
“It’s adrenaline and some other drugs. It acts like an antidote. The tranquilizer will screw with their circulatory system. If they don’t get this, they’ll go into cardiac arrest.”
Fantastic.
“What about Kyol?”
Lee shakes his head. “We’re giving him a sedative. It takes longer to work, but it doesn’t have the same side effect.”
“I’ll be with you most of the time,” Naito says. “I’ll make sure they’re okay.”
I just nod and slip the gun into my backpack with my other supplies. Tranquilizing the fae is the best option we have. As much as I dislike Hison, he’s not exactly an enemy. Neither are the people who work for him. I don’t want to hurt or kill them, but I won’t let them hurt or kill Aren either. I’m going to get him out of the palace, make sure he makes it to the other side of the silver wall, then he’s going to fissure back to my world.
After that, Lena will hunt him down. She doesn’t know this yet—Naito and I haven’t told her our plan—but we have to make sure she isn’t blamed for this. We’ll fake Aren’s death, then, after a few months, he can return to the Realm. Not to Corrist, of course, but there are plenty of places to go where people won’t recognize his face.
Half an hour later, the wooziness hits Kyol. I lean against the wall, focusing on a crack in the mortar between two gray bricks to make sure my world stays steady. Kyol’s up and moving still, and he’s pissed. I can feel his focus shift to me—there’s no doubt in his mind I’m behind this—then his emotions dim suddenly. I can picture him hitting his knees, see him brace a hand against the floor, struggling to stay awake, to fight the drugs running through his system. Within minutes, he’s unconscious.
I clench my teeth together, refusing to feel guilty for something I’ve been forced to do.
Dragging my backpack across the table, I sit in a chair to wait. Lena is supposed to be meeting with the high nobles in a couple of hours. Naito’s going to keep an eye out for Hison, and when he arrives, Naito will meet me in the servants’ corridor that leads to the high nobles’ offices. I’m certain that’s where I felt Kyol stop earlier when he talked to Aren. Since we’re within Corrist’s silver walls, all the nobles have only minimal security here. We expect Hison will have more because of his prisoner, but Naito and I should be able to take care of all of them with our tranq guns.
Lee loaned me his cell phone, and Naito has his. They obviously don’t get reception here, but they keep track of Earth’s time, which is what we’re going by. I wait impatiently for the hours to pass, and try to picture this plan working, not failing. But I’m sick with worry, and every time I close my eyes, I see Aren’s execution. The fae behead kingkillers. It’s considered a cruel and dishonorable death because it’s the only way to prevent the fae from crossing to the ether, the fae equivalent of heaven. I can’t let Aren die, especially not like th
at.
When the two hours pass, I throw on a cloak, grab my backpack, then make a beeline for the servants’ corridor. My adrenaline is pumping when I slip into the darkened space. I lean against the wall, feel my tranq gun press against the small of my back. The case of syringes is tucked inside my backpack. Just so I’m ready, I take two of those syringes out, keeping them more accessible.
My heart thumps in my chest. It’s so hard to keep still. I need Naito to get his ass here. The servants access this corridor mostly during the early mornings and late evenings, but it’s not entirely unlikely that someone will pass through here in the middle of the day.
Finally, I hear footsteps. It’s the first set I’ve heard in what feels like a millennium, so I’m not surprised when they come into my darkened corridor without hesitation. I am surprised, however, when the face I recognize belongs to Lorn, not Naito.
“McKenzie,” Lorn says, his eyes ridiculously wide. “Why in the name of the Sidhe are you here?”
My nostrils flare. He knows exactly why I’m here.
“Where’s Naito?” I demand.
“He’s with a few of my associates. He regrets that he won’t be able to aid you in this”—he waves a hand in the air as if he’s grasping for the right word—“this little quest of yours.”
“You’re here to stop me,” I say, my voice flat.
“I’m here because I made a promise.”
“A promise to whom?” I demand, taking a step toward him.
“A promise to myself, of course,” he says, as if I shouldn’t expect him to give his word to anyone else. “I intend for Naito to have a long and prosperous life. This desperate and doomed jailbreak would likely prevent that.”
“God,” I say, more loudly than I should.
“God?”
“You’re all the same.”
An eyebrow lifts.
“You all look down on us. On humans. You think we’re weak just because we weren’t born with swords in our hands and because we can’t fissure without a fae. You treat us like tor’um. Those of you who don’t shun us think we need to be taken care of. We don’t. We can make our own decisions, and I’m sick of you trying to take them away from us.”
“Impressive speech, McKenzie, but Lena’s meeting with the high nobles has already adjourned. Hison will be back with his guards any minute now. You won’t have Naito’s help on this.”
My chest tightens painfully, and the fear I’ve been holding back threatens to take over. My hands shake.
“You’re going to help me.” I intend the words to be an order, but my voice cracks, and it sounds more like a plea.
Lorn sighs. “No, McKenzie. I’m going to stop you. Aren is going to die. You’re going to live, and you’re going to move on. You, too, will have a long and prosperous life. That’s another promise I’ve made.”
All I can do is stare at Lorn. He didn’t listen to a word I said. He’s deliberately and consciously taking this decision away from me.
I explode.
“What is this, Lorn? Your fucking revenge?”
“He asked me for a favor.”
“He made it worth your while!” I shove my hands into his chest. He stumbles back a step.
“McKenzie—”
“What did he offer you?” I demand.
“I’m sorry?”
“What did Kyol offer you? I’ll make you a better offer.”
“Kyol didn’t offer me a thing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Calm down, McKenzie. Yelling will only draw attention, and I suspect you don’t want to be caught with the contents of that bag.” He nods toward the backpack I dropped. “The high nobles will hold it against Lena if you’re found with tech.”
“They won’t find me.” If I do this right, they won’t see me. I’m dressed entirely in black and wearing gloves and a tight, hooded jacket. The tranq gun is an issue, but I intend to shoot Aren’s guards long before they have a chance to see it.
Lorn lets out a long sigh. “You’re risking yourself for nothing, McKenzie. I spoke with Aren just over an hour ago. I offered him employment, and he refused me. He asked me to keep you away from him. You think he’s going to change his mind for you?”
“Third time’s a charm,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. That’s the biggest flaw in my plan. What will I do if Aren refuses to be rescued?
Lorn’s lips thin into a tight smile. “I promised him I’d keep you safe. I can’t let you do this. I am truly sorry, McKenzie.”
“So am I,” I say, then I tranq his ass.
• • •
NOT his ass, precisely. I aimed for Lorn’s left arm. The dart juts out from his bicep. He yanks it free then his gaze moves back and forth between the dart and the tiny drop of red that’s staining his impeccably clean white shirt.
He looks at me.
“What iss thiss?” His words slur. He stumbles.
I leap forward, grabbing his arm so he doesn’t fall back into the main hall.
“It’s a tranquilizer,” I say, half-carrying him into the darkness of the servants’ corridor. He teeters too far forward for me to keep him balanced. I shoulder him into the wall, and he slides down it.
I lower him to his back. There’s just enough light for me to see his silver eyes blink up at me. He tries to say something, but it’s just a jumble of syllables. His eyes close, then his body goes slack.
Reaching blindly behind me, I grab a syringe from my pocket. I have half a mind not to give Lorn the antidote. He had no right to interfere, and he’s at least partly to blame for our problems with the remnants and the false-blood. But I don’t want to kill anyone, and he did save my life, so I take off the syringe’s protective plastic cover, then jab the needle into his arm.
Seconds later, I’ve recovered the needle, shoved the emptied syringe into my backpack, and reloaded the dart gun. Lorn said the meeting with the high nobles has ended. Hison could be on his way back, or he could linger, talking to the others. If I’m really lucky, he’ll head home to his estate, but I can’t count on that. I might have only minutes to find and free Aren.
My gut knows it’s not enough time, but I won’t give up. I can’t. If I don’t get Aren out of here now, he’s dead.
I pull up my hood, then peek out into the main hall. It’s clear except for one guard standing in front of the closed door to Hison’s reception room. None of the other high nobles had guards on their doors. Aren has to still be here.
From the cover of the servants’ corridor, I take aim. I’m much farther away from the guard than I was from Lorn, and I have zero experience shooting at a target that’s more than ten feet from me, but I line up the sight of the gun and the end of the barrel with a spot on the fae’s neck—the easiest area to hit that’s not protected by jaedric—and squeeze the trigger.
The dart hits low, and the fae reacts so quickly, reaching up to slap at his neck, that I don’t know if the needle actually sunk in.
Shit.
I take out another dart from the inside pocket of my cloak and reload as the fae stares down at the one in his hand.
I raise my gun, but he moves, taking a step away from the door. Damn it, my aim isn’t good enough to hit a moving target.
I’m already running, sprinting up the hallway toward the fae. He sees me immediately, tosses the dart aside to grab his sword. He doesn’t get it halfway out before his knees buckle.
Thank God.
He face plants before I reach him. I don’t stop to watch him pass out; I throw open the door behind him and burst inside with my gun held up and ready in front of me.
There’s movement in my peripheral vision. I swing the barrel that direction. The fae has her sword out. She moves forward. I wait half a second until I’m sure I won’t miss, then I fire.
The dart sinks in just above her collarbone. It doesn’t slow her down. Reloading my gun, I backpedal. Just as the dart slides into place, she grabs my left wrist.
“Who are you?” she dem
ands in Fae.
I keep my head tilted down so she can’t see under my hood, then I raise my right hand, the hand holding my dart gun and fire it not at her, but at a second fae who’s rising from behind a desk to my right.
“Drop that!” the woman who’s bruising my wrist orders. Why the hell isn’t she unconscious? I try jerking my arm free, but her grip doesn’t loosen.
She brings her sword around and stops with the edge of the blade just touching the black sleeve covering my wrist. Her sword is sharp—she could easily sever my hand—but, finally, her eyes glaze, and she lurches forward. I pull my arm free, but not before the weight of her sword causes it to cut through my sleeve and into my skin.
I bite out a curse. The cut isn’t deep—it’s more like an extreme paper cut—but it stings like hell.
I shake it off, confirm that the fae behind the desk is going down, too, then go back to the hallway and drag in the first guard. Not an easy task. He’s freaking heavy, but I get him inside, then close and lock the door. For good measure, I drag the desk in front of the door, then lean against it.
My breaths come out quick and shallow, as if I’ve just gone through half a day of training with Kyol even though I didn’t even lift a sword. I force myself to slow down my breathing, then I take the antidote case out of my backpack and inject the three unconscious fae. Eight syringes left, one still in my pants pocket.
The woman saw my tranq gun. The fae behind the desk might have as well, but Lee told me there’s a chance they won’t remember what happened a few seconds before they lost consciousness. I hope like hell he’s right.
The door the woman stood in front of isn’t locked. It opens into a short hallway with four closed doors, two on each side. With my reloaded dart gun held ready, I try the first one on the right.
The knob turns. The room is dark and silent as the door swings inward, and I’m about to move on when I hear a familiar chirp-squeak.
I push the door all the way open and step inside. Sitting in the back corner of the room, hands bound to a pipe behind him, is Aren. Sosch is there, snuggled up in Aren’s lap. His blue eyes are bright in the darkness. His whiskers twitch as he chirps again. This time, the sound seems sad, as if the kimki knows something bad is about to happen.
The Sharpest Blade Page 24
