Sandy Williams - The Sharpest Blade

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.

“WHERE’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.