Sandy Williams - The Sharpest Blade

“Hey,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“If you’d listened to me, he wouldn’t have gotten away.” I yank my arm free. “I told you where he was.”

“You told me he was next to a smiley face. How am I supposed to know what that is?”

“It looks like a face that’s smiling,” I bite out.

“McKenzie.” Aren says my name so softly, I’d have to be deaf not to hear how angry I sound in comparison. Not being able to read Nimael’s shadows unsettled me, but there’s no reason to take it out on Aren.

“I’m sorry,” I say, deflating. “It’s just . . .” I close my eyes and draw in a breath before I reopen them. “I don’t know where he went.”

“Okay,” he says, like it’s no big deal. It is a big deal, though. A whole freaking province is opposing Lena because of the false-blood. She needs to be able to at least identify him to have any chance of disproving his claim. Nimael is the breadcrumb that could lead us to him. I doubt this other elari can help us.

I turn back toward that elari . His wrists are bound behind his back now, and Trev appears to have control of him. That isn’t stopping the elari from letting him have it verbally. He’s spitting out curses and slurs and angry words too quickly for me to translate. He’s filled with blind rage, and in my experience, people who are like him—people who can’t control their anger—are rarely trusted with important information. He won’t lead us to Nimael or the false-blood.

“We’ll question him in Corrist,” Kyol says. Trev nods, acknowledging Kyol’s words, then he begins to half walk, half drag the elari toward the wall. That brings him closer to Aren and me. The elari looks at me, spits on the ground, then continues his diatribe.

I’m pretty much tuning out everything he says, but as Trev wrestles him over the low wall, one of his accusations slowly translates itself in my mind. He’s accusing Lena of building an army of Sighted humans. It’s an outrageous accusation, especially considering that Lena is losing Sighted humans, not gaining them. I would entirely dismiss his words except for one thing: he used the word kannes . That can be translated into serum. Sight serum.

“Wait!” I say when Trev opens a fissure on the other side of the wall. “How does he know about the Sight serum?”

Trev frowns over his shoulder at me.

“He was talking about the Sight serum,” I say. “No one should know about it.”

Technically, that’s not true. Lena and a handful of people she trusts know about it. So do Caelar and a few of the remnants, but as far as I know, Caelar isn’t fissuring around the Realm talking about it, and neither side is using it. It’s fatal, and no one wants more humans than necessary to be aware of the fae’s existence.

The elari is still spitting out curses. Aren vaults over the wall; then, without a pause, he slams his fist into the fae’s jaw. That shuts him up long enough for Aren to ask what he knows about the serum.

The elari answers with the crap about Lena building an army again. He claims she’s selling it to any human who can pay, which is just plain stupid because what is Lena going to do with money that’s good only on Earth? It’s worth nothing here. Besides, she could just have one of her fae fissure into a store or bank and steal it. That’s what Atroth had his people do when he needed to pay the humans who worked for him. The elari has to be making crap up.

Still, when Aren nods, signaling to Trev that it’s okay to go, an uneasy feeling lingers with me. It’s too big a coincidence to ignore. If the elari said Lena was recruiting humans who already had the Sight or that Lena had found a fae with the magic to give the Sight to humans, that would be different. But he specifically said a serum gave humans the Sight. Somehow, he knows about the vigilantes’ serum.

There’s no way Lena would have let that information leak. The only way the elari could know about it is if Caelar told him, and why would Caelar tell him about the serum if they weren’t working together?

“Caelar isn’t working with the false-blood,” Kyol says, standing a few paces to my right. His words sound firm, uncompromising, but the sense I get through the life-bond is that some of Kyol’s conviction is missing. It’s the same feeling I had a few days ago when it felt like Kyol’s optimism about the Realm’s future was diminished. I want to bring it back, to assure him that he’s right, that Caelar is a fae who deserves Kyol’s respect and that the Realm will be the world he thinks it can be, but I can’t make those promises. He would feel my doubt if I did.

“I’ve told you before,” Aren says, slamming his sword back into its scabbard. “You’re wrong about Caelar.”

“This isn’t proof they’re working together,” I say. I realize a second later that I shouldn’t have said anything. I spoke out of a need to reassure Kyol, but Aren’s expression turns stony, and I can imagine what he’s thinking: I’m not on his side. I’m on the side of my bond-mate.

“Aren—”

“I’ll find out more in Corrist,” he says. “I’ll send back dry clothes and supplies.”

“No,” Kyol speaks up. “You’ll stay with McKenzie.”

Slowly, Aren’s head turns toward Lena’s lord general. Kyol’s emotions are steady and calm now. Aren’s aren’t. The tension in his muscles is as clear as if we had a life-bond. Technically, Kyol outranks Aren, but I don’t think he’s been issuing many orders to him. I don’t think they’ve been interacting much at all these last few weeks.

“I’ll go,” Aren says again. “You’ll escort McKenzie to Corrist. It should be a safe enough journey.”

It’ll be a long journey, a full day’s walk. A full day for me to learn what I can do to get Aren back.

“No,” Kyol says. If Aren were anyone else, he would know there’s no room for argument when Kyol uses that tone. Even the rain stops, almost as if it heeds the command in Kyol’s voice.

But Aren is Aren, and even though he’s now part of the Realm’s legitimate government, in his heart, he’s still a rebel.

“I’m fissuring out,” he says. “If you choose to do so as well, then you’re the one who’ll be leaving her alone.”

A slash of white light slices through the air beside him.

“Wait!” Kyol barks. “Just get her out of the city. I’ll meet you within view of Tholm’s westernmost building.”

Then, before Aren can step into his fissure, Kyol opens one of his own and disappears.

Aren curses.

“I’m not that repulsive, am I?” I ask lightly.

Aren’s gaze slides to me, and the way his silver eyes peer out beneath his dark lashes says my words are ridiculous. I just give him a tiny shrug, wrap my arms around my now-shivering body, and start walking.

“Did you really need to get rid of your shoes and cloak?” Aren asks, falling into step beside me. He’s looking at my bare feet. Throwing off my shoes wasn’t a mistake—my toes were already numb, and I get better traction without them—but losing the cloak might have been.

I don’t admit to it, though. Instead, I say, “You took off your cloak.”

“It’s easier to move without it.”

“Exactly.”

“Besides,” he says, “I can keep warm.”

“If you’d like to keep me warm, you can start any time.”

Even in the darkness, there’s a glimmer in his silver eyes when he looks at me. “You’re determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

We step onto a curved stone bridge. “If you’re referring to you dumping me, then yes. I am.”

“Did you make it this difficult for Taltrayn?”