The Sharpest Blade (29 page)

“Lorn?” her eyes are still on me. I didn’t
see
Lorn die. It’s possible he could have survived.

“The rumors say he’s dead,” Kyol answers.

I want to contradict what he says. I want to give Lena some hope, tell her that I never saw Lorn cut down, but in the end, my focus wasn’t on him. It was on her and Sosch and the false-blood.

Lena blinks. Her eyes become glassy. She looks back up at the ceiling and draws in a slow breath. I’m surprised Lorn’s death affects her so much. More than once since I’ve known her, she’s wanted to kill him herself. But maybe she’s just bracing herself for the next name.

“Aren?” she finally asks. Her chest stops rising and falling, waiting for the answer.

Kyol is silent.

“Aren,” she says again, angry this time. She lost her brother, Sethan, two months ago, her parents years before that. Aren was the closest thing to family she had left. Kyol knows his death will crush her. He knows it will crush me.

“I’m not certain he’s dead,” Kyol finally says. The life-bond tells me those words are just short of a lie. He thinks Aren’s entered the ether.

Lena turns her head to look at him. “I want the truth, Taltrayn.”

Apparently, I’m not the only one who can tell when he’s twisting facts. It’s something he does so rarely, and only to protect the people he cares about. Sometime in the last two months, he’s grown to care for Lena. I’m glad. I think it softens his guilt over killing the king.

“I saw no sign of him,” Kyol says evenly. “And the rumors I heard all came from unreliable sources, not from fae I would ever trust.”

He’s giving us hope. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing at this point.

“I need to get out of this bed,” Lena says. She attempts to sit up on her own, but Kyol’s there in an instant, taking one of her hands in his and placing his other behind the back of his would-be queen.

She closes her eyes when she’s upright, swaying just a tiny bit. Kyol remains there, steady, until she nods once and releases his hand. He returns to his chair.

“Can you estimate how many
elari
the false-blood has?” Lena asks, her cool silver eyes locking on his.

“Fewer than two hundred have taken and are holding the palace,” he says.

It sounds like such a small number. Lena’s soldiers were overworked, but I’d guess she had close to five hundred swordsmen in the palace and guarding the silver wall. The
elari might
have killed and executed a number of our people, but they lost of number of theirs as well. Maybe our odds aren’t as bad as I think?

Kyol’s gaze doesn’t waver from hers. “My opinion is we cannot retake the palace from the false-blood.”

Lena’s mouth tightens. She looks like she’s about to ask Kyol to do the impossible, to find a way to retake the palace anyway, but instead, her eyes slide to me, and she asks, “Have you shown him the map?”

“Yes,” he answers for me.

“It’s the false-blood’s camp,” Lena says. “He’s been hiding there, building an army and plotting to take the throne for a decade.”

“We don’t know it’s his camp,” Kyol says.

“I want it searched,” she continues as if he didn’t speak. “I want every piece of paper read, every anchor-stone’s location determined, and I want arrests. I need his followers to deny him.”

A few seconds pass, then Kyol says, “I’ll do what I can.”

Cardak’s followers, at least the ones who are close to him, are fanatics. I’m not sure they’d believe the truth even if they were buried in evidence of it.

I run my hands over my face, trying to ease the tension building behind my eyes. It doesn’t help. I feel like I’m going to be tense and tired for the rest of my life.

“W
HERE’D HE GO?”

Kynlee’s question makes me wrench my gaze away from the backyard. It’s ridiculous that I’m staring out there so often—the life-bond tells me Kyol’s still in the Realm—but I’m more on edge than usual. I can’t take any more losses. My heart’s already in pieces. The only thing holding it together is Kyol.

Plus, there’s the whole issue of our lives being linked.

“He fissured to Corrist,” I say.

“The capital?” she asks. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch with her homework resting on her lap.

My gaze goes to the kitchen as I nod. Nick is there, the sleeves of his buttoned shirt pushed up to his elbows so he can wash the dishes. Kynlee knows some of what’s happened in the Realm, but I’m not sure if Nick wants her to learn more. She lost her permission to visit the palace when Cardak took over.

“Do you think my brother is still alive?” she asks.

Nick shuts off the faucet.

“I haven’t heard that he isn’t,” is all I say.

Kynlee throws a glare over her shoulder. It doesn’t seem to have any effect on her dad.

“It’s not going to kill me to know what’s going on,” she says, facing me again.

I agree—I’m always furious when people withhold information from me—but Nick is her dad, and he has the final say in how much his daughter should know. On the other hand, he’s not telling me to keep my mouth shut.

“I think there’s a good chance he’s alive,” I say. Her brother, Lord Garon, is the high noble of Ristin. He wasn’t one of Lena’s close allies, but he didn’t oppose her, either. If he’s smart, he’s kept his mouth shut and hasn’t opposed the false-blood either. “Kyol will be able to tell us more.”

“When is he supposed to be back?” she asks, closing her notebook and setting it aside.

“Anytime now,” I say with a shrug. I’m trying to appear less worried than I am, but I can’t get a good sense of what Kyol’s doing right now. His mental wall is in place, and he’s a world away. He’s not giving me the slightest hint as to whether he’s found any of the high nobles or Lena’s swordsmen alive.

Or someone more important than them.

My throat tightens, and that weak, shaky feeling that comes with crying begins to spread over me. I don’t cry, though. Honestly, I don’t think I have any tears left.

I need a distraction, so when Nick finishes in the kitchen and joins us in the living room, I ask him if there’s any chance he’ll use his Sight and shadow-reading skills to help Lena.

I expect an immediate no. Instead, he says, “She told me she wants to protect
tor’um
.”

“Yeah. She wants . . . I guess you’d say she’s fighting for the fae to all be equal,
tor’um
included. That’s why it’s been hard to get support from the high nobles. They don’t want to lose their power and their privileges.”

“Why does she care what they want?” Kynlee asks. “Wouldn’t the majority like those changes?”

“It’s not a democracy,” I say. “It’s . . . a different kind of society, based on bloodlines and magic.”

“It’s based on the whims of the ruler,” Nick says.

“That’s one of the things Lena wants to change.”

He meets my gaze. “It’ll be interesting to see if she actually makes any changes.”

She will. I have every confidence of that now.

A flash of light draws my attention back to the window. An instant later, Kyol’s presence slams into me. I grip the arm of my chair, waiting for my equilibrium to level out. It does quickly—I’m getting used to being near him—but then I see a second slash of light wink out. He isn’t alone.

The way I launch myself to my feet must startle Nick and Kynlee. They jump up, too, Nick reaching for the drawer in a side table.

“Wait,” I say, waving him off. “I think it’s okay.”

“You think?” Nick asks, his voice rough. His hand is on the knob of the drawer.

“Lord Hison is with him,” I say. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but Kyol’s emotions are steady. He isn’t angry or alarmed.

The back door opens, and the two fae step inside.

Nick finally lets go of the drawer. Hison doesn’t look like a threat. He looks incredibly uncertain and out of place. It’s not just because of his embroidered black shirt, fae pants, and high boots. His shoulders are hunched, and his head is slightly bowed as if he’s afraid some piece of tech—the fan, maybe—is going to drop from the ceiling. He’s one of the most antihuman high nobles I’ve met, and I’m sure he’s never been to Earth before.

He stops after just a couple steps inside the house. His face is twitching, probably because he catches an occasional glimpse of the
edarratae
flashing across his nose or cheekbones.

“What’s he doing here?” Nick demands. I’m not sure if he’s angry because he knows Hison or if he’s simply mad because Kyol brought a high noble here without permission. He was supposed to tell Lena’s remaining supporters to meet us in Adaris in a week. That’s when we think Lena will be healthy enough to fissure between worlds.

“He’s here to speak to Lena,” Kyol says.

Nick’s jaw clenches. “You planning on bringing every high noble here?”

“Most of the high nobles are dead.” Lena’s voice carries across the room.

I look over my shoulder, see her standing just outside the hallway with one hand braced against the wall. She shouldn’t be out of bed—I have the feeling her knees could buckle any second—but she manages to make herself look tall and regal standing there, not pain-ridden and broken.

I swear the life-bond growls. I glance at Kyol, but his expression is as neutral as always.

“Sit.” His order isn’t directed at anyone in particular, but I catch a glimpse of relief on Lena’s face. She makes it to the sofa chair—the nearest seat in the living room—without showing any other sign of weakness.

Kyol focuses on the high noble.
“Sit.”

Hison’s nostrils flare, and the way he eyes the couch makes me want to laugh. Furniture in the Realm is handmade while ours is made mostly with machines, but it’s completely harmless. Even the TV remote sitting on the side table is a miniscule amount of tech.

When Hison still doesn’t budge, I roll my eyes, grab the remote, then elaborately motion for him to sit.

His expression hardens as he takes two stiff steps toward the couch, then, not taking his eyes off mine, he gingerly sits on its edge.

“Does he always act like he has a stick up his ass?” Kynlee asks.

“Kynlee,” Nick snaps at the same time I answer, “Yes.”

Hison doesn’t understand English, but his scowl deepens.

Actually, Hison is stiffer than usual. That might have something to do with the fact that I tranqed three of his fae freeing Aren from his offices.

“He should lighten up,” Kynlee says.

Hison’s lip twitches when he looks at Kynlee. This is probably the closest he’s been to a
tor’um
in decades, and he’s not doing a thing to hide his distaste.

With all the aplomb of an American teenager, Kynlee folds her arms across her chest, cocks her hip, and meets his glare.

“Kynlee. Room. Now.”

“But—”

“Now,” Nick says.

She lets out a sigh as she turns and leaves the room.

I sit on the arm of the second sofa chair.

Lena levels her gaze on Hison.
“You better have a good reason for bringing him here, Taltrayn.”

“I can set up a meeting between you and Caelar,”
Hison says.

Lena studies the high noble, and I know what she’s thinking. We’re all but certain Caelar is working with Cardak. Is Hison working with him now, too? He looked terrified when he burst into his office, and he was desperate enough to make a deal to let Aren go free if we helped him escape. But maybe he didn’t escape. The
elari
were searching the foothills of the Corrist Mountains for Lena and me. They could have found Lord Hison then.

“Why would I want to meet with Caelar?”
Lena asks.

“You need him and his swordsmen to retake the palace.”

“If I recall correctly, Lord Hison, you have never wanted me in the palace.”

“I want the false-blood there even less!”
he says between his teeth.

“False-blood?”
Lena questions coolly.
“He told me he’s
Tar Sidhe
, not one of their Descendants. I believe that makes him a completely different species of fae.”

“That’s a ridiculous claim.”

“Lord Ralsech believes it,”
Lena says, referring to the high noble of Derrdyn, the province that declared support for the false-blood.
“The
elari
do as well.”

“Ralsech is a fool,”
Hison says.
“If you believe the false-blood is
Tar Sidhe
, you are as well, and I’m wasting my time.”
He stands, takes one step toward the back door.

“Sit!”
Lena snaps.

He takes another step, but then Kyol is there, cutting off his retreat.

“Sit,”
Lena orders again.

Hison straightens. He looks like he’s about to tell Kyol to get out of his way.

“You managed to escape the false-blood when many others did not,”
Lena says.
“And given our history, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m skeptical about your newfound cooperation.”

It’s not an apology, but it’s enough of a peace offering for Hison to stiffly return to his seat.

“The false-blood,”
Lena says when he’s settled.
“Do you have evidence he is not who he claims to be?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”

Lena’s eyes narrow slightly.
“We believe his name is Cardak. He’s the brother of Thrain.”

“Thrain,”
Hison says.
“He’s dead. So are all of his supporters.”

“What are they saying?” Nick asks quietly. I didn’t notice him approach.

“She’s telling him we think the false-blood is related to Thrain.”

Nick stiffens.

“You’ve heard of him?”

He nods. “He was giving King Atroth problems about the time that I left with Kynlee.”

“He’s the fae who found me when I was sixteen.” I don’t say more than that—Nick’s expression indicates I don’t need to. I turn back toward Lena and Hison and concentrate on their conversation again.

“The word of a human won’t change anyone’s mind,”
Hison is saying, his silver eyes darting to me briefly before returning to Lena.
“We must return to Corrist and kill him. That’s the only way we’ll convince his followers they’ve been lied to.”

“And I’m sure you would love to be there, fighting at our sides,”
Lena says.

I snort out a laugh.

Hison doesn’t bother to look at me.

“You need Caelar’s help,”
he says.

“Caelar refuses to speak to me.”

He gives her a small smile.
“With the kingkiller dead, I believe I can convince him to meet with you.”

My muscles tense, ready to launch myself at him and wrap my hands around his throat, but Kyol drops his mental shield. Our link opens, and he sends steady, calming emotions my way. I glare at him, trying to shove those emotions back in his face. But I get the message: don’t strangle a potential ally, even if that ally is a bastard.

“You’ve been speaking to Caelar for a while, haven’t you?”
Lena asks. Her voice sounds tighter now.

Hison gives her a single-shouldered shrug.

“I’ll meet with Caelar,”
Lena says.
“But it must be in this world, somewhere public.”

She looks at me. The meeting is going to have to be close by. She’s in no condition to fissure.

“Is there somewhere nearby they can meet?” I ask Nick.

“There’s a coffee shop over there.” He nods toward the back of his house. Beyond his fenced-in backyard is the shopping center I saw the first time I drove here. “It’s not usually crowded, but there’s enough traffic passing through to make everyone stay in line.”

Lena looks at Kyol. “Do you have an anchor-stone you can imprint?”

He nods. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

When he leaves, Lena says,
“I assume I’ll have your support once the false-blood is killed?”

“You are the strongest-blooded Descendant,”
Hison says.
“And the kingkiller is dead. I won’t oppose you anymore.”

“You don’t need him,” I say. “Cardak’s killed most of the high nobles. You’ll have to appoint new ones.”

“And they’ll vote for me,” Lena agrees. “But I can’t afford to make enemies right now.”

“What is she saying?”
Hison asks, staring at me.

Lena smiles.
“She’s very happy for your support.”
She braces a hand on the arm of her chair, then stands. She nods toward the fissure opening in the backyard.
“You’ll give that anchor-stone to Caelar. He’ll fissure directly to the coffee shop. You won’t bring him here.”

Kyol opens the back door.

Hison nods.
“We’ll meet you at noon.”

He accepts the anchor-stone Kyol’s just imprinted with the cafe’s location, then, as quickly as possible but while still maintaining some semblance of dignity, he flees Nick’s house.