in a breath, and
says, “She almost became Atroth’s sword-master.”
This time, I break stride. “His
sword-master
?”
Kyol’s a few paces ahead of me now. He looks over his shoulder and slows, waiting
for me to catch up.
“She wasn’t
tor’um
then,” he says, when I’m at his side again.
I almost ask what happened to her, but I don’t think I want to know. It’s possible
for fae to burn out their magic, but it’sextremely rare. They know their limits and the consequence for pushing too far, so
I’m almost certain that’s not what happened to her. No, chances are, overexposure
to human technology killed her magic.
I don’t realize I’m clenching my teeth until I feel Kyol looking at me. I try to force
my jaw to relax, to act like nothing is bothering me, but he sees right through my
façade.
“It was years ago,” Kyol assures me.
The muscles in my shoulders relax, and my next breath comes a little easier. We started
hunting Aren just under a year ago. It’s unlikely he was the one who turned the woman
tor’um
. I know that shouldn’t matter—Aren stripped others of their magic—but Kyol knew the
fae. They were colleagues—they might even have been friends—so I’m glad Aren isn’t
the one who made her insane.
Of course, that leaves the question of who did make her
tor’um
, but it’s obvious the memories bother Kyol, so I let the subject drop. We spend the
next few minutes in silence; then, just when we reach the outer edge of the forest,
Kyol catches my arm, making me stop and turn toward him. His touch excites my
edarratae
, making the lightning come quicker and intensifying their heat, but I don’t pull
away. His brow is ever so slightly creased. No one else would notice it, but I’ve
learned that’s a sign that he’s worried about something.
“McKenzie,” he says. “You’ve escaped the remnants twice now. They won’t let that happen
again. The next time they find you, they’ll kill you. You have to be careful. More
careful than we were today.” He pauses and glances at the three fae who’ve stopped
a respectable distance behind us. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower than
before. “Someone in the palace told the remnants that I was bringing you here.
You
specifically, not another shadow-reader. Vinn isn’t the only traitor.”
Vinn must be the fae from the roof, the one wearing the black necklace. Even after
ten years, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that anyone would want me dead.
I mean, I
do
get it. My shadow-readings keep fae from being able to fissure to safety, and that
makes me at least indirectly responsible for the deaths and captures of hundreds of
faeover the years, but I still feel like a relatively normal person, and normal people
don’t have enemies who want to slit their throats.
But normal people
do
have jobs. They have homes and families and friends they don’t pull into wars. I
need at least some of that if I’m going to stay sane. That’s why I have to make it
back to Vegas. Despite the walk to the gate, I should still be able to make it in
time to turn in my paperwork. But then, a part of me thinks that maybe I should give
up on having a human life and concentrate on helping Lena secure the throne, instead.
I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting involved with the fae.
I rub at the headache growing behind my eyes. Everything will be simpler once this
war ends.
“You’re going to have to send the former Court fae away,” I tell Kyol. “I know you
don’t want to.”
He releases my arm, walks a few paces away, then stops with his back to me. “We’ll
lose the palace without their help.”
“The way things are going, we’ll lose it with their help, too. We have to be able
to trust the fae who are helping us.”
“I know,” he says. He grows quiet again, and it’s incredibly hard not to put my arms
around him. I want to comfort
says, “She almost became Atroth’s sword-master.”
This time, I break stride. “His
sword-master
?”
Kyol’s a few paces ahead of me now. He looks over his shoulder and slows, waiting
for me to catch up.
“She wasn’t
tor’um
then,” he says, when I’m at his side again.
I almost ask what happened to her, but I don’t think I want to know. It’s possible
for fae to burn out their magic, but it’sextremely rare. They know their limits and the consequence for pushing too far, so
I’m almost certain that’s not what happened to her. No, chances are, overexposure
to human technology killed her magic.
I don’t realize I’m clenching my teeth until I feel Kyol looking at me. I try to force
my jaw to relax, to act like nothing is bothering me, but he sees right through my
façade.
“It was years ago,” Kyol assures me.
The muscles in my shoulders relax, and my next breath comes a little easier. We started
hunting Aren just under a year ago. It’s unlikely he was the one who turned the woman
tor’um
. I know that shouldn’t matter—Aren stripped others of their magic—but Kyol knew the
fae. They were colleagues—they might even have been friends—so I’m glad Aren isn’t
the one who made her insane.
Of course, that leaves the question of who did make her
tor’um
, but it’s obvious the memories bother Kyol, so I let the subject drop. We spend the
next few minutes in silence; then, just when we reach the outer edge of the forest,
Kyol catches my arm, making me stop and turn toward him. His touch excites my
edarratae
, making the lightning come quicker and intensifying their heat, but I don’t pull
away. His brow is ever so slightly creased. No one else would notice it, but I’ve
learned that’s a sign that he’s worried about something.
“McKenzie,” he says. “You’ve escaped the remnants twice now. They won’t let that happen
again. The next time they find you, they’ll kill you. You have to be careful. More
careful than we were today.” He pauses and glances at the three fae who’ve stopped
a respectable distance behind us. When he speaks again, his voice is even lower than
before. “Someone in the palace told the remnants that I was bringing you here.
You
specifically, not another shadow-reader. Vinn isn’t the only traitor.”
Vinn must be the fae from the roof, the one wearing the black necklace. Even after
ten years, it’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that anyone would want me dead.
I mean, I
do
get it. My shadow-readings keep fae from being able to fissure to safety, and that
makes me at least indirectly responsible for the deaths and captures of hundreds of
faeover the years, but I still feel like a relatively normal person, and normal people
don’t have enemies who want to slit their throats.
But normal people
do
have jobs. They have homes and families and friends they don’t pull into wars. I
need at least some of that if I’m going to stay sane. That’s why I have to make it
back to Vegas. Despite the walk to the gate, I should still be able to make it in
time to turn in my paperwork. But then, a part of me thinks that maybe I should give
up on having a human life and concentrate on helping Lena secure the throne, instead.
I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting involved with the fae.
I rub at the headache growing behind my eyes. Everything will be simpler once this
war ends.
“You’re going to have to send the former Court fae away,” I tell Kyol. “I know you
don’t want to.”
He releases my arm, walks a few paces away, then stops with his back to me. “We’ll
lose the palace without their help.”
“The way things are going, we’ll lose it with their help, too. We have to be able
to trust the fae who are helping us.”
“I know,” he says. He grows quiet again, and it’s incredibly hard not to put my arms
around him. I want to comfort
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