Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

A short, caustic laugh, and his silver eyes slide to mine. “You think calling him by his family name will change my mind?”

Okay. Bad strategy. “This isn’t about him. It’s about the rebellion.”

“It’s about you.” He stands, sending his chair careening toward me.

I catch it, grip its back, trying to think of a way to do this without hurting him. “That’s the problem, Aren. It shouldn’t be about me. You have a chance to end the war.”

“I can do it without him.”

“How?”

He stares out the window.

“I’d really like to know. Sethan’s dead. His supporters are abandoning you.”

His jaw clenches.

“Think about it, Aren. Kyol knows the king. He knows General Radath.”

Not even a twitch at those words.

“He knows the locations of the other Sidhe Tol .”

“Damn it, McKenzie!” Aren spins. “He lost you! He can’t have you back!”

My heart gives an angry thud. “I left him—”

“Because you had to.”

I dig my fingers into the chair’s leather. “I was leaving him before Radath tossed me into Chaer.”

“Because you had to,” he says again, acid dripping from his voice. “He wouldn’t compromise his honor for you.”

“He was going to tell the king about us!” I shove the chair at him.

He swipes it out of the way and storms forward. “He’s had ten years to make you fall in love with him. I haven’t had ten weeks! Tell me how that’s fair!”

I back away, my heart pounding.

“Do you know what he’s been doing these last few weeks? Do you?”

“He—”

“He’s invaded the homes of every fae rumored to be connected to the rebellion. He threatened their families, knocked around anyone who didn’t answer his questions. If he didn’t like what they had to say, he arrested them. If they fought him, he killed them. Do you have any idea how many of my friends he’s murdered?”

“He wants this war to end just as much as you do.” I hate that Kyol has to kill. I hate that Aren has to, that I had to.

He rams his fist into the open door. It slams shut. “You’d say anything to make me save him.”

“Aren—”

“Go ahead,” he snarls. “Lie to me. Tell me you don’t still have feelings for him.”

Edarratae flash over his face. The blue lightning seems to buzz with his fury. The only time I’ve ever seen him close to this angry was when I called the cops with the vigilante’s cell phone, but after the initial blowup, he turned cold and indifferent. He’s not indifferent now.

I shift my gaze to his chest, watch it rise and fall with his furious breaths. He’s right: I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have feelings for Kyol—I do—but I’m not doing this just to save him. I’m doing it to save Aren, too.

“What happens afterward?” he demands. “What happens when Taltrayn puts his hands on you?” He grabs my hips. “When he begs you to forgive him?” He pulls me against his chest.

My hands go to the hard muscles of his forearms. Lightning leaps up and down his arms, heating my palms.

“Aren,” I whisper.

His mouth is close enough for my lips to pull a chaos luster across the air. I shiver when it sparks over my tongue. Aren doesn’t close those last few millimeters, though. He hovers there, his eyes daring me to initiate the kiss.

All thoughts of Kyol disappear. Aren’s hands clench on my hips when I slant my mouth over his. He’s stunned only for a moment and then he kisses me back, pressing the length of his body into mine. The edarratae pour out of him, into me. My muscles turn molten. They quiver. I slide my hands up his chest to grip his shoulders. I dig my fingers into his muscles as he dips his tongue into my mouth.

A moan. My moan. Warmth coils in my stomach, sinks lower. Aren hooks his hands behind my knees, lifts. I wrap my legs around his waist and weave my fingers through his disheveled hair. Everything’s moving too quickly, not quickly enough.

He sets me on Naito’s desk, then slides his hands under my shirt. Lightning bolts around my rib cage and I arch into him. He kisses my jaw, my throat, the scar along the side of my neck. He murmurs something in Fae, but my body is too full of edarratae , my mind too full of him, to translate.

I kiss him again, sucking chaos lusters from his lower lip. They taste so good, so tantalizing. He’s tantalizing. I press my hips forward, needing to feel him against me. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer, but this time he doesn’t budge. He removes my hands one at a time.

“Fine,” he says, his words coming out breathless. “I’ll save your precious sword-master, McKenzie. But I will never, ever give you back to him.”

“WOULD YOU PLEASE stop pacing?” Kelia says. Again. I ignore her. Again.

Pacing is the only way I can stay awake. The one time I closed my eyes I dreamed UPS delivered Aren’s and Kyol’s heads to the front door. When I tore the tape off the box containing Aren’s head, rage-filled eyes of red, not silver, glared up at me. I jerked awake, a scream lodged in my throat, when he accused me of killing him.

No. There will be no sleep for me, not until I know they’re both safe.

I walk from the back door toward the front, glancing at the time on the oven along the way. It clicks to 3:04.

They should be back by now. Aren took every fae but Lena and Kelia with him when he fissured out five hours ago. I shadow-read for the Court long enough to know the king’s men usually come out the victors of any battle that lasts more than half an hour. The rebels have always executed quick, surprise attacks, hitting their target and fleeing before the Court sends reinforcements. This isn’t good, Aren and his men being gone so long.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Kelia says.

I’m making myself dizzy. Not my fault. There’s not enough space to pace.

I reach the back door, see no fissures splitting the darkness on the other side of its glass window, and pivot. Straight into Naito’s chest. He puts his hands on my shoulders, steers me toward the sofa-chair, and forces me to sit.

“Aren’s broken people out of prison before. Relax.”

“He’s never broken anyone out of the Silver Palace.” I try to stand.

Naito pushes me back down and gives me a small smile. “You managed it. I think he might be okay.”

Not funny. I never should have convinced Aren to go. What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was he thinking to agree?

Naito waits a moment, undoubtedly making sure I don’t try to get up again. When he’s satisfied I won’t, he drops down on the couch beside Kelia. “The Court doesn’t know we have the location of a Sidhe Tol .”

“That gets him into the palace, not out of it.” I eye the arm he drapes around Kelia’s shoulders, wishing Aren was here to do the same. Just wishing he was here.

“It’s a covert operation,” Naito says. “He’s good at this type of thing. The Court fae won’t know he’s been there until it’s too late.”

Kelia rolls her eyes when I stand. I can’t stay still, though. I’ve been shaking for the last few hours, and more than once, I’ve made a run for the bathroom, certain I would throw up. I didn’t. I haven’t since I first got here.

On my trek toward the front door, I grab the camo-colored lighter off the kitchen counter. The candles placed throughout the living room and kitchen are already lit, but my hands need something to toy with. I flick the wheel and let the flame burn a few seconds before extinguishing it.

“How long until that runs out of fuel?” Kelia mutters.