Sandy Williams: The Shattered Dark

The tiniest smile pulls at one side of his mouth. A month ago, that smile would have infuriated me. Now? Now, I recognize the spark in his silver eyes. He doesn’t just want me because I’m an asset that can help the rebels keep the Silver Palace; he wants me because he’s fallen in love with me.

He’s fallen in love with me in less than two months. It’s insane considering we were enemies for the majority of that time.

He takes hold of my hand, keeping me in place while he cautiously peers around the edge of the building.

“The closest gate is back in the other direction,” I whisper.

“The remnants know that, too,” he says. Then, he loops his arm around my waist and inches me forward. “See anything?”

Only a human with the Sight can see fae who are hidden by illusion, so I scan the parking lot, searching for anyone Aren can’t see. A car is slowly driving around, probably looking for a specific apartment—the numbers on the sides of the buildings are tiny—but that’s to our advantage since the remnants apparently don’t want to cause a scene. As long as Aren remains invisible to normal humans, the driver shouldn’t take notice of anything unusual.

“It’s clear,” I say. I check over my shoulder to make sure no remnants are in sight. I can hear them fighting somewhere in the back alley, but the rebels must be doing their job, keeping the former king’s fae engaged long enough for me to escape.

Aren unhooks a sheathed dagger from his belt. Then, meeting my gaze, he hands it to me and says, “Don’t go anywhere unarmed again.”

No one should be allowed to have eyes like his. You can get lost in them. The silver-gray irises are flecked with light, and they’re darker on the outer edges. A fae’s eyes darken and lighten with emotion, and right now, Aren’s are as determined as steel. He expects me to use the dagger if I’m threatened.

I wrap my hand around the weapon’s hilt. I’ve killed before. It wasn’t deliberate—I wanted to ward off the fae attacking me, not slash open his stomach—and I hope I never have to again.

Aren draws his sword, then we step off the narrow walkway. The car cruising the parking lot circles around again. We walk past one row of parked vehicles and are almost to the next when my skin tingles. Fissures, four of them, cut through the air to our left. Aren curses and disappears into his own slash of light just as an arrow whistles through the air. It vanishes when it hits his fissure, and before I have time to duck or run or come up with another plan, Aren reappears on my other side.

He lunges behind me. The sound of swords clashing rings in my ears. A cry tells me Aren’s killed or injured a remnant, but I remain facing the pair in front of me. They press forward.

I draw my dagger out of its sheath. It looks tiny compared to the fae’s swords, but it’s all I have.

The fae on the left disappears. I spin around, knowing he’ll reappear behind me, and slash out with my dagger. The remnant is just far enough away to avoid my attack. He grabs my arm before I can bring my weapon around for a second swing.

I gasp when he digs his fingers in between the tendons on my wrist, trying to force me to drop the dagger. I hold on to it, try to pivot its point toward him, but he’s ten times stronger than I am, and his grip hurts.

He brings his sword up, issues a threat in Fae.

In my peripheral vision, I see Aren charge forward. The remnant notices him, too, but not soon enough. Aren rams into us, sending both me and the remnant stumbling across the parking lot.

Across the parking lot and into the path of the approaching car.

I swear to God the driver speeds up. It hits hard, sending me and the fae onto the hood. Pain shoots through my thigh, then through my ribs and right arm, as the sky spins.

It’s still spinning when the driver slams on the brakes. I’m suddenly sprawled on the asphalt in front of the car. I try to push myself up to my hands and knees, but before I reach my feet, Aren’s there, yanking me up. He jerks open the vehicle’s door and shoves me into the passenger seat. I tumble awkwardly inside, look up in time to see a remnant fissure in behind Aren just after he slams my door shut.

“Watch out!” I shout, but the remnant’s sword is already swinging.

THE SWORD CRASHES into the car, shattering my window and cleaving into the doorframe. I cover my face with my arms, shielding my eyes from the flying glass.

“Hold on!” someone says from the driver’s seat as the car’s tires squeal.

I look at Shane, the human who’s driving, as he spins the wheel, throwing me against the damaged passenger door. The car makes a wild left turn out of the parking lot and onto the road.

I grab the oh-shit handle above the door, my heart pounding. “Did he fissure out?”

Shane nods, straightening the wheel. “Just after he ducked. Crazy bastard dove headfirst into the light.”

The wind whips into my side of the car, throwing tiny shards of glass at me and tangling my hair. I brush it back with my fingers and hold it in a ponytail while I try to slow my breathing.

“Here,” Shane says, taking a pink scrunchie off the gearshift and handing it to me.

I stare at it a second, then glare at him. “You stole this car.”

“You want to hold your hair the whole way to the gate, or do you want to use this?” he asks, not a hint of regret in his voice. I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. He doesn’t have a problem accepting the money the fae give us—money that’s stolen from U.S. banks—to pay his bills, so why should he care about stealing a car?

I take the scrunchie.

“It was Aren’s idea,” Shane says, resting his right hand on the gearshift. His shirtsleeves are pushed up, so the long, wrinkled white scar on his forearm is visible. It’s worse than any of the scars I have. He won’t talk about how he got it, but I’m sure a fae had something to do with it.

“You should be thanking me.”

I lift my gaze from his arm to give him a skeptical look. “Thanking you? You hit me with a car.”

“I saved your life,” he points out.

I roll my eyes but don’t argue. I don’t know Shane well despite being roommates these past two weeks. He’s not a shadow-reader like me, but he worked for King Atroth, too, using his Sight to see through fae illusions. I first met him just a few weeks ago, right after the rebels traded me to the Court for one of their own. I spent one restless night in his mansion before I returned to the Realm and had my world turned upside down. That’s when I stopped being the rebels’ prisoner and started to have serious doubts about working for the king.

“Did you come from the palace?” I ask Shane. He wasn’t home when I left our Vegas suite. For him to get here as quickly as he did, he must have been with the rebels.

“Yeah,” he says, slowing down. “I talked to Lena.”

Lena, daughter of Zarrak. She’s in charge of the rebellion and claimed the silver throne after King Atroth was killed. We both wanted to see the other dead not so long ago, but now, I’m desperate to keep her alive. She’s the best hope I have for ending this war with my friends still breathing.

Sometimes, I still can’t believe Lena and I are working together.

“You finally agreed to help us?” I ask.

Shane shrugs as he accelerates. “I was getting bored.”

I manage to keep my mouth shut. Barely. If excitement is the only reason he’s joining the rebellion, nothing will stop him from switching allegiances if the situation in the Silver Palace gets even uglier than it is now. I’m sure the remnants wouldn’t hesitate to take him back. The rest of the humans who worked for the king are already helping them. Lena and the rebels didn’t move quickly enough tracking them down. The only reason we got Shane is because he was at the palace when we invaded. Afterward, Lena set him up in the suite with me because she thought I might be a good influence on him, like my choice of allegiance would spread to him like a cold or something.