Sandy Williams - The Sharpest Blade

My gaze locks on Lorn, a connoisseur of information. If he doesn’t already know what Hison has on Aren, he could find out, I’m sure of it. I just have to find the right price to buy it from him.

“Well,” Lorn says lightly, when Naito rejoins us. “This is a familiar gathering. Are we making plans to lay siege to a high noble’s manor?”

“The false-blood,” Lena says, obviously not entertained by Lorn’s cavalier tone. “You met him. Tell us what you know about him.”

“I know that I want him dead.”

“My patience is thin, Lorn. Give me details.”

“Patience?” He smiles. “My dear, you’ve never had anything of the sort.”

I think he’s trying to get under her skin. Why, I don’t know. She saved his life. He owes her. There’s no need to antagonize her, especially now. Healing him wore her out. The circles under her eyes are darker than they were a day ago. She deserves a break.

“You were going to tell me about Aylen,” I say, before Lena snaps.

Lorn looks at me. He raises his glass of cabus in a small salute, as if he knows exactly why I’ve spoken up. “Yes, Aylen. I had you read her shadows because I believed she was selling information to my competitors.”

“Was she?” I ask.

“She was ,” he says, drawing out the last word in a way that makes it clear she’s no longer capable of doing so. Sent to the ether, I imagine. Lorn didn’t become lord of the Realm’s underworld by letting people cross him.

“You could have just told me that,” I say. “Or told Lena when she questioned you.”

“I never had the chance to question him,” Lena says. “The high nobles forced me to release him within a day of his arrest.”

“The false-blood,” Kyol says. The hilt of his sword—his real sword, not the practice one—is clasped between his hands. “You gave McKenzie’s location to him. You spoke with him.”

“I wouldn’t call it a conversation,” Lorn says. “But, yes, I’ve met him and his elari . Aylen wasn’t selling information only to my competitors. She sold it to the Taelith as well.”

“The Taelith ,” Lena says, her lips twisting as if the title puts a bad taste in her mouth. “Who is he?”

Lorn sets his glass of cabus down on the side table and leans forward. “He is our nemesis, my dear.”

Lena stiffens. I’m not sure why. If Lorn sees the false-blood as his nemesis as well as ours, it’s a good thing. It means there’s a better chance he’ll help us.

“I need a name,” Lena says.

“I didn’t learn a name.”

“Then tell me how you met him. Tell me something, Lorn.”

“Even my patience is growing thin.” That’s from Aren, who’s been silent until this moment. He’s still sitting backward in his chair, arms draped across it in a way that makes him look sexy and rebellious. He still won’t look at me.

Lorn leans back in his sofa chair and drags a finger around the rim of his glass. “I’m afraid I may have been inadvertently providing the false-blood with information. And supplying him with silver. And weapons. And—”

“ Sidhe , Lorn!” Lena explodes to her feet. “Have you abandoned all reason and become an elari ?”

Lorn sets down his glass as he stands, too, albeit much more slowly than she does. Kyol rises as a precaution. And a threat. Lorn’s gaze slides to him. He looks more annoyed than worried, though.

“I’ve always worked with false-bloods,” Lorn says. “It’s easy money, and they’ve always been ripped apart by the Court. They never had a chance of success, so why should I not profit from them? If I hadn’t provided aid to Sethan, your rebellion would have died within months of its inception.”

“My brother was not a false-blood,” Lena snarls. “I’m not one either. You’ve always known that. You shouldn’t be supplying anything to my enemies.”

“I should change my lifestyle and business practices to suit you?”

“Yes!” she hisses.

“I—” Lorn cuts himself off, shutting his mouth with a sharp click of his teeth. Seconds tick by. Neither of them backs down or looks away.

“Sit down,” Aren finally orders. He’s still relaxed, but his expression is much more somber than it was a minute ago.

Lorn gives in first, plopping into his chair and reaching for his cabus . Lena and Kyol sit next. Lena still looks tired and pissed.

Lorn takes a sip of his cabus and clears his throat. “As I said, the information I supplied was inadvertent. The majority of the Taelith ’s elari come from Lyechaban. He’s taken advantage of their hatred of everything human and has made promises to cleanse the Realm.”

“Cleanse?” I ask. That word has been tossed around a lot all of a sudden.

“Cleanse it of everything that might weaken the Realm’s magic. That includes tor’um , human tech and culture, and, especially, humans. He’s particularly interested in capturing the nalkin-shom .” He looks at me. “You have a reputation. He wants you as an example. He’s promised his elari that he’ll skin and hang the shadow-witch.”

My gaze slides to Aren. For the first time, he looks at me.

“Maybe I’ve exaggerated your reputation a little too much,” he says.

“You think?”

Aren gives me a sheepish grin that makes me roll my eyes. It also makes my stomach do a flip.

He turns back to Lorn. “How many followers does the false-blood have?”

“More than he should,” Lorn says, “And they’re quite passionate in their support for him.”

“Why?” Lena demands.

“I imagine it has something to do with his magic. He’s a cacer . He has the ability to put people to sleep with a touch.”

My eyebrows go up. That’s an extinct magic. It hasn’t been around since the Duin Bregga .

“And he isn’t claiming to be a Descendant,” Lorn continues. “He’s claiming to be Tar Sidhe .”

Tar Sidhe? That’s ridiculous. The fae’s Ancestors lived centuries ago. The Realm’s been ruled by half-blooded Descendants ever since then.

I sit back, waiting for someone to laugh. When no one does, I look around the room. No one is moving. No one is making a sound.

Dread slides over me. It feels like someone’s punched me in the chest. Or rather, they’ve punched Kyol in the chest. It’s hard to breathe, and I wish Naito hadn’t turned off the breakers. I need the air conditioner—or at the very least a fan—to circulate the air.

“That can’t be true,” Lena finally says, either fear or exhaustion making her voice break. “The Tar Sidhe entered the ether thousands of years ago.”

“Or they created the ether thousands of years ago,” Lorn says with a shrug. “It all depends on which legends you believe.”

“But either way, they’re all dead,” I find myself saying. The Duin Bregga , the war that erased most of the fae’s history, was fought about five thousand years ago. That’s when the Tar Sidhe disappeared, and that’s when many of the fae’s magics became extinct or endangered. Other than that, my knowledge of the Realm’s ancient history is sketchy at best.

“Yes, they’re dead,” Lena snaps. “Fae don’t live five hundred years, let alone five thousand.”

“Of course they don’t, my dear,” Lorn says. “But if the Tar Sidhe created the ether, they have control of the ether. One might also think they have control over who enters and exits it.”

I’m suddenly aware of Naito sitting next to me. A month ago, the palace archivist convinced him he knew someone who could bring Kelia back from the ether. Naito wanted her back so badly, he believed the fae and agreed to help him escape the palace with Caelar’s brother, Tylan. It’s cruel for Lorn to bring up the possibility of fae returning from the ether again. He knows how much Naito loved Kelia.