Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

I’m about to tell her I saw another lighter in a drawer when Naito launches to his feet. “They’re back.”

I spin toward the back door just as Aren slams it open. He stalks by without meeting my eyes.

Lena rises from the table when he enters the kitchen. She intercepts him, grabbing an arm that I’m just now noticing is stained red with blood. He savagely shakes off her hand, takes a glass out of the cabinet, and jerks on the water faucet.

The back door rattles again. I wrench my gaze away from Aren in time to see Kyol stagger inside.

Oh, God. His face is bruised and bloodied, his left eye almost entirely swollen shut. Beneath the tatters of his cotton shirt, bright red slashes snake around his ribs and over his shoulders. My chest constricts, imagining his back covered in a meshwork of ugly lacerations.

His good eye focuses on me. He leans heavily on a sword and takes another step inside. He stops. He wavers.

I’m there before he collapses. He hisses out a breath when I grip his arms to lower him to the floor.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Jesus. There’s not a safe place to touch. His skin is ripped to shreds.

He’s still clutching the sword in his hand. I pry at his fingers.

“Kyol,” I whisper, urging him to let it go. He tries to answer but coughs instead, and the wet, gurgling rasp tears at my heart.

Lena drops down beside me. “Move!”

Shaking, I climb to my feet and back out of the way. I don’t breathe until she puts her hands on him. Kyol’s body lurches, absorbing her magic. She’s healing him, thank God. The shallowest lashes begin to seal shut. He’s going to be okay. He and Aren both are going to be okay.

I wait until Lena’s finished before I return to him. He looks so tired. I must as well. His brow lowers in concern. He reaches up to touch my face.

“Kaesha.”

“What happened?” I ask, ignoring the lightning striking through my core and putting a little distance between us because I don’t want to test Aren’s temper.

Kyol’s mask wavers for an instant. “I wouldn’t allow my men to fight in Lynn Valley. I tried to prevent the attack.”

“You failed,” Lena says. Behind her, Aren’s eyes are a sharp, angry silver. His body is so rigid I’m certain he’s one second away from an explosion.

Then, without warning, his shoulders relax. I’m not sure what to make of the transformation until I remember Amy’s wedding reception. As soon as Aren spotted Kyol, the tension slid out of his muscles. The change hit me as odd then, but I understand it now. Aren hides his emotions behind his half smiles and his nonchalance as completely as Kyol hides his behind his impenetrable masks.

“We need to talk,” Lena says. “Clean up. Quickly. Then join us in the kitchen.”

Kyol and I help each other rise.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I say. Or I will be so long as he and Aren don’t kill each other. Aren’s doing his best to pretend like nothing fazes him, but his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. “Go on.” I point him in the direction of the bathroom.

Aren watches me as I walk to the table. Lena steps between us, insisting he let her heal him, but his gaze never wavers. It’s almost tangible, and an electric tingle rushes through my body. I glance down at my arms, assuring myself that his edarratae haven’t found some way to leap across the distance between us. No. Nothing but goose bumps on my skin.

I take a seat at the table. When she’s finished healing Aren, Lena joins me. So do Naito and Kelia, but Aren bypasses us and enters the kitchen. He returns a few seconds later carrying a glass of something red. I frown because I swear he’s almost grinning. Then I realize why.

When he sets the cabus down in front of me, I push it away. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. I’ll force it down your throat if I have to, nalkin-shom .”

If it wasn’t for the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and the way he called me nalkin-shom , I might be pissed. Instead, a pleasant warmth spreads through me.

“I just need coffee.”

He sinks into a chair and pushes the glass back into my hands. “It’s this or nothing.”

“Nothing is fine with me.” It feels good, arguing with him like this again.

“McKenzie,” he scolds.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms.

“You should drink the cabus .”

I stiffen at Kyol’s voice. I didn’t hear him approach at all. By the look on Aren’s face, he didn’t either. We were both completely focused on each other.

“It will make you more alert,” Aren says, his smile gone now.

I pull the glass closer, but only because I’m uncomfortable with the way everyone is watching me.

The only empty chair is to my left, so Kyol walks over and takes a seat. He’s close enough that I can feel the slightest warming of the air and smell a hint of soap. He’s wearing the same black pants he had on when he got here, but he’s borrowed a shirt.

“Good,” Lena says. “Now that you’re here—”

“Before we speak,” Kyol interrupts, his attention completely focused on me. “I would take you away from all of this, McKenzie. I’d make sure the fae never found you again. You’d never have to read another shadow.” He touches the scar on my throat. “You’d never be hurt again.”

A chaos luster zigzags down my neck, and my stomach clenches tight. It’s disorienting, having my emotions pushed and pulled like this. I’d be happy with Kyol—I know I would. He’s what I’ve always wanted.

I look at Aren. Edarratae careen through my stomach at the way he drapes himself in his chair. He may look all haphazard and careless, but there’s a certain alertness, a certain readiness, to his posture. Behind that façade, he’s watching me. There’s a hint of tension in the skin around his eyes, almost as if he’s bracing for a blow. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I want to hurt Kyol.

“I’ve decided to help the rebellion.” I slump down in my chair and stare at the table. I don’t have to look at Kyol to know a dark cloud has moved in above him. I feel it settle about his shoulders, weighing him down in a torrent of sorrow. If he joins the rebellion, his betrayal of Atroth will be complete.

Lena unfolds a map of the Realm on the table. “The other Sidhe Tol . You know where they are.”

I bite my lip through the heavy silence. Kyol’s not just betraying his king; he’s betraying his friend.

“Putting you on the throne will only start a new war,” Kyol says.

My mood plummets. Of course, he’s right. Atroth’s supporters aren’t going to go away just because Kyol throws his support behind Lena. Some will convert because they respect and trust him, but a significant number of the others will fight.

“I will make you my lord general,” Lena says. “You’ll decide how the war is fought. Any strategy you don’t like, we won’t implement. Any swordsman who serves in my court and doesn’t live up to your standards, you’ll have the authority to discharge. You will be able to go through the rolls of the current king’s troops and decide which fae will be loyal to us and which fae will need to be sent away. I will listen to your counsel, Taltrayn.”

With reluctance, I have to admit Lena’s not just a pretty bitch; she’s smart, too, and perceptive enough to see that Kyol’s real issue is with Radath, not with his king. But Kyol’s not concerned about titles. If he agrees to this, it will be because he decides it’s in the Realm’s best interest.

Kyol turns to me. “This is what you want?”

One last chance to walk away from all of this. God, I want to. My life would be so much simpler, so much better , if I walked away and let the fae deal with their own problems. And Kyol would walk away with me, for me, but I think a little part of him would die if he left the Realm with Radath commanding the king’s swordsmen. Joining the rebellion is the best chance he has of getting rid of the lord general.