Sandy Williams - The Shadow Reader

“I choose to do this,” I tell him.

He looks into my eyes. If we were still working for the king, this is the type of battle he’d shelter me from. He only tolerated the risks to my life before because they were minimal: he and a contingent of his best swordsmen were always with me, and we ambushed the fae I tracked. Tomorrow will be different. The Court knows we’re coming. There will be a lot of death, a lot of violence. This could be as bad as Brykeld.

Kyol takes my hand. Warmth spreads through my palm and a chaos luster spirals to my elbow. “You’ll stay by my side and do as I say. You’ll fissure out when and with whom I tell you to.”

“Except,” Aren interjects, taking a small step forward, “she’ll be with me.”

Kyol squeezes my hand. He lets it go before addressing Aren. “She and I have worked together before.”

Aren gives a lazy shrug. “In the past. She’s not your puppet anymore. I’ll keep her safe.”

“ I’ll keep her safe. I’ve protected her for ten years.”

“You didn’t protect her from me.”

Kyol’s fist launches Aren into the wall.

Nalst rushes forward, drawing his sword, but Kyol snarls something I can’t translate and doesn’t slow down. He strides through the living room and out the back door.

“Sidhe,” Aren groans on the ground. He gingerly touches his jaw.

“You deserved that,” I tell him.

Lena scowls and adds, “You should have seen that coming.”

“I did see it coming. I just didn’t have time to duck.” He sits up and stretches his jaw, working it to the left, then to the right.

I don’t feel sorry for him. Aren was an ass. There was no reason to provoke Kyol.

“McKenzie,” he calls out when I turn to leave. I ignore him and go outside.

It’s a warm evening. Humid. A half-moon hangs low on the horizon, half obscured by thin wisps of clouds. Kyol’s sitting to my left, his back against the brick wall, his forearms resting on his bent knees.

I sink down beside him. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. He’s staring at his clasped hands. His edarratae are bright out here. In the past, I’d trace their paths on his skin. I miss doing that. I miss the heat of his touch, the familiar comfort of it.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

His pain tears me into pieces. My throat closes up, and I can’t answer him. I don’t know how to. I’ve been avoiding this conversation, this decision, for far too long because I thought it would end with me alone and heartbroken. Now . . . now it doesn’t have to end that way. Lena’s made him her lord general, but if Kyol and I both survive tomorrow, he would abandon that position. He’d abandon the Realm if I ask. Ten years ago, one year ago, maybe even a month ago, I would have asked.

He lets out a sound that’s so very close to a single, choked sob. “I dedicated my life to my king. I should have dedicated it to you.”

I swallow against a raw throat. “I shouldn’t have had to wait ten years for you.”

“I . . .” His voice breaks. “I’ve wronged you all this time. I knew how you felt, how I felt, and I did nothing.”

I bite my lip, taste blood, but the pain isn’t enough of a distraction. The tears fall.

“Kaesha,” Kyol breathes out. “Don’t cry. Please. Come here.”

He drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his embrace. I close my eyes, selfishly soak in his scent and his warmth.

“I came out here to comfort you ,” I whisper.

His arm tightens around my shoulders.

“This comforts me,” he says. “This comforts me very much.”

THE VIGILANTES’ JET landed in Great Falls about three hours ago. It will take them almost four hours to drive and then hike to the stream the Court fae are guarding. We won’t fissure out until Aren’s scouts report they’ve arrived. It’s nearly time to go, but I’ve never had to wait this long for an operation before. It’s nerve-wracking.

Not for Aren, though. He’s sitting in the living room cracking jokes. It’s annoying, how collected and carefree he seems. I finally ate a decent meal so, physically, I’m doing better. Emotionally, though, I’m stretched thin. Every time I’m in the same room with Kyol, I feel like I’m ripping his heart from his chest, especially if I’m anywhere near Aren. Because I can’t stand hurting him, I’m doing my best to stay away from both fae.

I choke down a few swallows of cabus , chase it with almost half a can of Dr Pepper. I told Kyol he didn’t have to help the rebellion, but he said he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to me. Besides, he’s determined to send Radath to the ether. That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything happens to Kyol, I won’t forgive myself.

“McKenzie.”

Naito holds out a belt with an empty holster. Reluctantly, I push my chair away from the kitchen table and stand, taking the belt and putting it on.

“This is the safety.” He flicks up a little lever on the right side of the gun in his hand. “Press here to change the magazine.” He pushes a button on the grip, lets the black rectangle drop an inch, then clicks it back into place before holding it out. “There are extra magazines in the bag with your sketchbook.”

Fabulous. I slip the gun into the holster at my hip.

Before I’m able to sit back down, the back door swings open. I step into the living room in time to see one of Aren’s scouts stride in. A wave of uneasiness washes through me. I don’t have a good feeling about this. I feel like my luck has run out, that if we go through with these attacks at the Sidhe Tol and the invasion of the Silver Palace, someone I care about isn’t going to return.

Lena gives orders to the gathered fae. Fissures rip through the air and most of the rebels disappear. Naito follows Evan and Kelia out the back door, leaving just me, Lena, Aren, and Kyol inside.

“You two will work together?” Lena asks them. I think she really wants to know neither of them will be stabbing the other in the back. I’m not worried about Kyol losing control. Aren on the other hand . . .

“We’ll sort out our differences later,” he says.

Lena doesn’t look entirely satisfied with that answer, but she nods and fissures out. When Kyol exits the back door, I return to the kitchen to grab the army green satchel with my sketchbook, pencils, and, apparently, extra magazines. I’m praying I won’t need the latter. I might not need the sketchbook either. Even if Radath shows up in Montana, odds are against me being within shadow-reading distance when he fissures out. But maybe I can sketch out the locations of one or two other officers if I’m nearby when they flee. Better to be prepared.

Aren blocks my path when I turn. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t seem angry either. He knows I’ve been avoiding him, and I’m surprised—and maybe disappointed?—he hasn’t cornered me before now.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says. “I shouldn’t have provoked Taltrayn.”

He’s apologizing? He has a hard time even acknowledging Kyol’s existence. “He’s still taking me through the gate.”

Lena made that call earlier, agreeing with Kyol that we’d be more efficient together than Aren and I since we haven’t exactly cooperated on anything since we’ve met.

“I know,” Aren says. “But I wanted to apologize. I don’t want Taltrayn to convince you I’m the bad guy.”

At that, I give a short laugh. “You are the bad guy, Aren.”

He frowns, and I realize he’s taking my words the wrong way.

“What I mean is you’re the . . . well, the rebel. Kyol’s the good guy. He’s made mistakes, yes, but he loves me.”