The Shattered Dark

by Sandy Williams

  “You’ve only known him a week,” I say, almost grateful she interrupted me. It’s easier to talk about this than the serum. “He told you I was being held captive. All the remnants know that’s not true.”

  “I know, and I’ve had words with him about that, but, McKenzie, the Court fae didn’t kill the humans in London. We showed up there after the rebels.”

  She saw the humans. I wasn’t sure she knew anything about them. Neither she nor Lee has mentioned them before now.

  “The rebels didn’t kill them,” I tell Paige, pronouncing each word so that she knows there’s no doubt of it. “We received a tip saying you were there.”

  I expect at least a glimmer of surprise in her eyes; there is none.

  “We received the same tip about you,” she says, her tone and cadence matching mine. “I went to London to find you. The remnants didn’t want to take me. They thought it was a trap, and when the rebels attacked us, they tried to force me to leave. They’ve been protecting me.”

  I remember the fae who wrestled Paige off the stage. She was trying to get away from the remnant but not for the reason I thought. She wasn’t scared of him; she just wanted to find me.

  Suspicions and theories turn over in my mind. The deaths of the Sighted humans bother me and not just for the obvious reason. The remnants convinced Paige to support them. Surely they could have convinced the others. What motive would they have for killing them? Am I being blind, not considering the possibility that it was someone else? It’s been easy to blame everything on the remnants. They’re the ones who have attacked Corrist, they dragged Paige into the Realm, and they want to punish the rebels for deposing Atroth, their king who had become increasingly violent and extreme.

  But what if someone else is puppeteering this war?

  That possibility seems like so much wishful thinking. I don’t want Paige and me to be on opposite sides of this war, and I want to justify her choice, find a way that we can negotiate a peace. But that’s the thing. Lena has tried to contact the remnants. Their leadership has an open invitation to meet with her—she’s guaranteed their safety—but they’ve never responded.

  They’d rather kill us than talk to us.

  Something squeaks to my left again, but it’s the door behind Paige that moves, swinging open all the way. Tylan steps inside. Another fae is with him. A brother, perhaps? They look enough alike. Both have the same shade of brown hair, the same deep-set eyes, the same sharp-angled nose. The other fae is shorter, though. Stockier. And he’s also somewhat familiar. He’s definitely a former Court fae. Kyol thinks one of Atroth’s higher-ranked officers is organizing the remnants. Maybe this guy is him. He has that quiet confidence that comes from years of training and experience.

  He stares down at me. Even though I hate craning my neck to look up at him, I don’t bother to stand. I don’t think the short cord between my shackles and the wooden beam will allow it anyway.

  Eventually, he crouches down so that he’s eye level with me. “I should slit her throat and send her back to them.”

  And I’m supposed to believe these fae aren’t the bloodthirsty killers they’ve proven to be? Right.

  I want to translate what he said for Paige, but I don’t know if she’d believe me, and I don’t want them to know I’ve learned their language, so I stay quiet and give no indication that I understood his words.

  “English, Caelar,” Tylan says beside him.

  Caelar’s lip twitches at the request. He doesn’t repeat what he said, though. He just crouches there, glaring. I think he’s contemplating the most painful way to kill me, and my stomach churns, remembering the skinned humans in London. With the amount of hatred contained in his silver eyes, I can believe he slaughtered them himself.

  Finally, he says, “You and I worked together once before.”

  I give no reaction to that. I worked with a lot of Court fae off and on over the years, usually when Kyol needed to put distance between us.

  “It was soon after you came to the Realm,” he continues. “You were young and wary. The false-blood Thrain had starved and beaten you, but you wouldn’t let our healers touch you. We thought you were broken, but you agreed to read the shadows for us. You hated Thrain that much. Given that, I don’t understand how you can support the fae who is his prodigy.”

  He’s waiting for a reaction, some sign of shock or outrage. I don’t give it to him. I knew where this was going the second he mentioned Thrain, and the news doesn’t blindside me. “Aren isn’t Thrain.”

  “He is exactly like Thrain,” Caelar all but snarls.

  “We’re looking for a fae,” Tylan says quickly, taking a step forward. His posture is tense, and his gaze is on Caelar, almost as if he expects the other fae to carry out his wish to send me back to the rebels with my throat slashed. “Her name is Brene. She’s—”

  “Tor’um,” I finish for him. Caelar’s jaw clenches at the word.

  “You know her?” Paige asks.

  “She’s in Corrist,” I say, still watching Caelar. His silver eyes are angry and agonized.

  Caelar curses, then stands, facing Tylan. “You were supposed to watch her.”

  “I’m sorry, I was busy being captured in Eksan,” he says in English. Then, softening his tone, he adds, “If I’d known she was there, I would have made sure she escaped with us. You know that.”

  “She was there because you’d been captured. She wanted to help. She’s…” I see the muscles in his neck tighten as he swallows, and I can’t help it. My heart breaks a little for him. Brene means something to him, that much is obvious.

  Paige clears her throat, mutters, “English, please,” under her breath. She’s demanding the fae speak our language. Please tell me this isn’t why she trusts them. She’s not a naïve sixteen-year-old. Surely she doesn’t believe they’re translating everything they say for her.

  Caelar turns his back on me, walks to the door, and stares outside. I can’t see anything past him.

  “The rebels won’t win this war,” Tylan says, drawing my attention back inside.

  I meet his eyes. “People said that about them taking the palace.”

  He lifts a shoulder as if to say, That’s true. “The high nobles won’t approve the daughter of Zarrak unless she hands over the garistyn. She’s had two weeks to do that. She hasn’t, and she’s losing support every day.”

  I frown. Garistyn? I’ve heard that word before. Back in Spier when I was shadow-reading with Kyol, I think. Jielan mentioned it. It has something to do with a king or Descendant.

  “They haven’t told you about that, have they?” That’s from Caelar. He doesn’t add anything else, doesn’t turn around or move. He just stands there, staring outside, and an uncomfortable feeling gathers in my gut.

  “What’s a garistyn?” Paige asks the question. I’m grateful. I don’t want to show curiosity or weakness or anything in front of these fae.

  “Kingkiller. You can’t kill a king without consequences,” Tylan says. “They’re Descendants of the Tar Sidhe. You might call them ‘holy.’ The fact is, the high nobles won’t approve Zarrak unless she turns the garistyn over to be executed. She’s protecting the Butcher of Brykeld.”

  My stomach sinks. I’m almost dizzy because I think he’s telling the truth. Lena mentioned it before. She was annoyed because the high nobles were insisting she tell them who killed the king. I didn’t realize it was this important, though, and Tylan has it wrong. Aren didn’t kill Atroth. Kyol did.

  “Jorreb had nothing to do with the king’s death,” I whisper.

  “Some people say the nalkin-shom killed him,” Tylan continues. “The silver walls didn’t protect him. She fissured into his bedroom. Her touch poisoned him, they say. She weakened his magic, and while he was distracted and vulnerable, she sliced open his throat with invisible metal from her world.”

  I attempted to slice open Lord General Radath’s throat with shrapnel that was embedded in my arm. The silver walls didn’t protect him because I
was fissured to the palace via a Sidhe Tol. Someone’s twisted up and mangled all the details of that day. I never even touched Atroth. I almost don’t mind fae believing that I did, though. It’s better than their knowing Kyol killed him.

  “You’re going to tell us how to get into the palace,” Caelar says from the doorway. He leaves without giving me a chance to respond, not that I would have answered the way he wanted me to.

  Tylan watches him go, concern in his eyes. It vanishes when he realizes I’m watching him.

  “Paige,” he says, extending his hand.

  “Can I have another minute?” she asks.

  He looks at me. “Just a minute. I’ll be close by.”

  “He trusts you,” I say, after Tylan leaves.

  “About as much as I trust him,” she says. “He’ll be right outside.”

  I lift an eyebrow. That doesn’t exactly sound like a vote of confidence.

  Paige runs a hand through her perfectly chaotic hair, and an edarratae flashes across her face. She scoots closer to me, lowers her voice to a whisper that I can just barely hear.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you before,” she says. “I’m not relying on what the fae tell me. They don’t know Lee speaks their language. He’s translated what they’ve said in Fae. That tip was anonymous, and they honestly believe the rebels killed those humans.”

  “Lee speaks Fae?” I ask.

  Paige nods. “I made a deal with him. If he told me what he overheard, I wouldn’t tell the fae about the serum.”

  The serum again. She really doesn’t know the consequences of what Lee did to her.

  “Lena would have used the serum against Caelar,” Paige continues. “I couldn’t let that happen, so I told Tylan about it. Lee was pissed, but…Well, I convinced him to get the serum.”

  Is she blushing? There’s not much light in here, and her chaos lusters make it hard to tell for sure, but I’m almost certain her cheeks are pink. When we were at the palace, she said she and Lee hooked up after her sister’s wedding. In Paige-speak, that means they slept together. I think she slept with Lee again to convince him to get the serum. If there wasn’t a hint of pink on her cheeks, I’d say that was a whorish thing to do, but Paige never blushes when she talks about sex. She really is into him.

  She clears her throat. “Lee was supposed to just walk in and walk out with it. There wasn’t supposed to be a fight.”

  “Is Lee here?” I ask, hating that any feelings she might have for him are likely to end very soon.

  “Yeah, he’s…” Her gaze flickers to the left. There’s just a wall there, but I have the impression Lee’s somewhere in that direction. “He helped Tylan bring you here. I’m not sure if that was his choice or not. He’s not acting like himself. He’s quiet and angry, I think. I need to talk to him.”

  “Paige,” Tylan calls.

  “One second,” she says over her shoulder. Then she turns back to me. “Look, I know you wouldn’t join the rebels just because you’re in love with a guy, and I was thinking. I’m certain the Court fae didn’t kill the humans in London, but I’ll admit that there’s a chance that maybe the rebels didn’t kill them either.”

  “Paige,” Tylan says again.

  “I have to go, but…These fae aren’t bad people, McKenzie. I promise.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I LET MY head fall back against the wooden beam. I’m so thirsty. The remnants haven’t given me anything to eat or drink. They keep asking me how to get into the palace. They think I know the shifting pattern of safe fissure zones Kyol devised. I don’t, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell them.

  I think about what Paige said, that these fae aren’t the bad guys, but it’s hard to believe that with my stomach cramping from hunger and a headache pounding behind my eyes. The latter is from dehydration. The In-Between will do that to you if you’re not careful, and I can’t remember the last time I had something to drink.

  I’m pretty sure it’s well past 5 P.M. on Friday by now. I’ve missed my meeting with Jenkins. Maybe I can convince him something came up, that I came down with the flu or had a death in the family. Of course, before I can convince him of anything, I have to get out of here in one piece.

  I’m staring off into space when there’s a noise from a few feet away. It’s the same noise I’ve heard more than once since I was brought here, a tiny little squeak. For all I know, we could be in the middle of a forest. It could be one of a million animals I don’t know the names of, but on a whim, I make a clucking noise. Immediately, two bright blue eyes peer in the crack between the ground and the wall.

  No fucking way.

  “Sosch?” I whisper.

  The eyes blink.

  It’s him. It has to be him.

  I make a kissing noise. His whiskers twitch, and his head turns to the left, then to the right, as if he’s checking traffic before crossing a street. After a quick chirp-squeak, he scurries under the wall and into my arms. Which is kind of awkward considering my wrists are shackled together.

  “You don’t have a picklock on you, do you?” I ask, scratching him behind the ears. He purrs, then rubs his furry face against my cheek. My nose tickles. Apparently, kimkis do shed.

  “Did Aren send you?” I ask quietly though I don’t know if kimkis can be sent anywhere. From what I’ve seen, they have minds of their own. Plus, Aren thinks I’m dead. Sosch has found me on his own before; my guess is he’s done it again.

  Sosch chirp-squeaks, then scurries out of my arms, dragging his long body behind me. He nestles down between my back and the base of the wooden beam.

  “That’s real helpful,” I tell him, but he’s warm. And I’m glad for his company.

  I fade off. When I wake up, Paige is sitting against the wall beside the door. Sosch is still behind me. I don’t think she can see him, but I try to make myself take up as much room as possible, just in case. I don’t want the remnants to take him away from me.

  When Paige doesn’t say anything, I take a closer look at her, and immediately, my heart sinks. Her eyes are red, puffy, like she’s been crying.

  “You talked to Lee.”

  She draws in a breath, nods, then lets it out.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “This is my fault.”

  She closes her eyes. “It’s not your fault, McKenzie.”

  “I was trying to hang on to my human life,” I tell her. “That’s why I was in school. That’s why I picked up the phone every time you called and kept agreeing to go on those blind double dates—which I hated, by the way.”

  “None of those guys were right for you.” She smiles before she opens her eyes. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know you preferred fae.”

  “I don’t prefer fae, I just…” God, it must seem that way.

  She shrugs, then she picks up the tablet computer resting beside her. It’s so thin, I didn’t notice it before, but the screen lights up when she touches it.

  “I’m surprised this works here,” she says.

  “There’s no way to charge the battery, but the Realm doesn’t mess with tech.” The tech just messes with the Realm, according to some fae. “Do the remnants know you have that?”

  She sniffs. “Yeah, Caelar’s not happy. He’s making me take it back to Earth.”

  “He knows what’s on it?”

  She looks up from the screen, meets my eyes, and nods. “The serum’s terminal, though. He’s not going to use it.”

  But he would have. He’ll do anything to kill Aren and get rid of Lena.

  “It’s funny,” Paige continues, toying with the edge of the tablet. “I was in Bedfont House because I tried to commit suicide. Now, ten years later, I’m dying, and all I want is to live.”

  It’s not funny at all, but it’s just like Paige to underplay something like this. Back when we were roommates, she talked lightly about her deliberately reckless behavior—the street race that resulted in a bad wreck, the time she took a running leap off her roof and landed in the neighbor’s pool. The bottle of c
old medicine she downed that led to her being institutionalized definitely wasn’t her first suicide attempt; it was just the first time her dad woke up and realized there was a problem.

  I’m glad Paige is admitting she wants to live, though. The nurses and attendees at Bedfont House might have violated dozens of federal regulations, but the medicine and psychologists helped her work through her depression.

  “Anyway,” Paige says, clearing her throat, “I dated this guy named Rob once. He’s getting his PhD in chemistry. I’m going to take the tablet to him, see if he can figure out what’s wrong with us.”

  “You’re going to tell him about the fae?” The last part of that comes out a little high-pitched, partly because it surprises me but also because Sosch shifts, snuggling closer to my back.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me about them,” Paige says. “I would have understood.”

  “You would have thought I was crazy.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have. I would have—”

  “You thought Lee was crazy,” I point out.

  She deflates a little. “Well, I’ll make Rob understand. I’m not letting this beat me.”

  Good. I give her a tight-lipped smile. Out loud, I say, “I’ve been thinking about what you said before, about the remnants not killing those humans. I think it’s possible it could be someone else. If we could get Lena and Caelar to meet—”

  Paige shakes her head. “Caelar won’t negotiate. He won’t even talk to the rebels because of Brene.”

  “The tor’um?”

  “Yeah. They were going to…” She frowns, trying to recall a word. “Whatever the fae equivalent of marriage is. A bond or something.”

  “Life-bond,” I say.

  “Yeah, that. But then Aren captured her.”

  She doesn’t need to say more than that. I know what happened afterward. I’ve seen her.

  “You should see the way he takes care of her,” Paige continues. “It’s sweet. She’s crazy as hell, but he loves her still.” She draws in a breath, lets it out. “I have to admit, I, too, wouldn’t mind seeing Aren dead for what he did.”