“None taken,” Aren says, deadpan. His gaze is on me. I can’t decipher his expression. It almost feels as if he’s trying to figure me out. But I already know about his past, and I’ve forgiven him.

“I need you to call Paige, McKenzie,” Lena says.

“She’s already tried to get him to talk to you,” I tell her.

“Make her try again,” she says. “I need to meet face-to-face with Caelar. Paige is the only human who’s allied with him. He needs her Sight to see illusioned fae, and that gives her some influence. She needs to convince him to meet with me. It can be in public. It can be here in this world.”

“Lena—”

“Make it happen, McKenzie.”

Her tone of command makes me swallow down my protest. If Caelar’s working with the false-blood, any meeting with him could be a trap, but Lena isn’t going to take no for an answer. A day ago, she asked if I was committed to her cause. I told her yes, and I meant it, so I just give her a curt nod as I stand.

And stifle a litany of curses. Holy hell, I hurt. In the short time I sat on the couch, my muscles locked up. They’re bruised and sore from sparring with Kyol. For no reason other than pride, I do my best not to let it show as I walk across the living room. I didn’t grab my cell phone when I fled my apartment with Lorn, so I have to use Nick’s landline.

I check my voice mail first. There’s one new message. From Lee. Just a “call me” and a click. Since the conversation with Paige is likely to be longer than the one with Lee, I dial him first. He answers on the first ring.

“It’s McKenzie,” I say.

“He committed suicide.”

“What?” My last conversation with Lee feels like it was ages ago. He left Glazunov with me because he wanted to talk to—I assume he really meant kidnap—the vigilante who was primarily responsible for developing the serum.

“He gave the serum to his son six months ago.”

Oh. Six months ago. That’s long before the serum was supposedly fixed. I don’t have to guess what happened to the son. He died, and apparently, his father couldn’t forgive himself for not being able to save him.

“I talked to Glazunov,” I say, then I give Lee a quick rundown of what the vigilante said, telling him the serum might not be fatal anymore and ending with the information that the vigilantes are now selling it.

“Christ, they’re selling it? It damn well better be fixed. How long ago did Glaz say they changed the formula?”

“Three months,” I tell him. “You injected Paige two months ago, right? When did you inject it?”

A pause. There’s road noise in the background, maybe the clicking of a blinker.

“Three months ago,” he says finally. “If I can get a vial of the old serum and one of the new, I can do some tests to see what changes it makes to our blood.”

“I might be able to help you with that. I sent an e-mail to the Web site. I’ll let you know if I get a response.”

“I’ll be at your apartment in an hour,” Lee says.

“Okay— No, wait. Not my apartment. It’s not safe there.”

“Where then?”

“Um.” It can’t be here. Not only is Nick likely to kick us out the second he gets home, but I don’t want Lee to know about Kynlee. Once we’re out of here, she and her father should get back to their normal lives.

There’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn, see Naito holding out his hand for the phone. I give it to him.

“Hey,” Naito says. “No . . . No . . . Hotel. No.”

He hangs up the phone. I watch him return to the living room, and that’s when I notice the others are staring at me.

“You contacted the vigilantes?” Aren asks.

I nod. “I found their Web site, so I sent them an e-mail.”

“Were you going to tell us about this?” Lena demands.

“I just found out this morning,” I tell her. “I set up a fake e-mail, used a fake name. I don’t even know if they’ll respond.”

“If they do, you have to meet with them,” she says. “We need to find out where they’re keeping the serum and—”

She breaks off. A second later, I hear what she does: the garage door grinding open. Nick’s home. He was gone for more than a few hours.

Our conversation stops there. When the door to the garage swings open, Kynlee comes in first. She looks at me, then her gaze goes to the living room. She grins like she’s happy to see the fae. When Nick steps into the kitchen behind her, he glowers like he’s not.

“You all can stay the night,” Kynlee says, all but bouncing on her toes. “I can go to the Realm Saturday.”

I meet Nick’s eyes. He just shakes his head like he’s lost a fight, tosses his keys on the counter, then walks through the living room without one word to Lena and the others.

“You guys hungry? I’ll order pizza.” Kynlee grabs the phone, completely oblivious to the worry she’s causing her dad.

NINETEEN

DURING DINNER, KYNLEE interrogates the fae. She directs her questions to Lena at first, probably figuring a woman will be more likely to give her the answers she’s looking for, but Lena’s responses are dry and short. It’s Aren who gives Kynlee the information she wants, and he’s up-front with her, telling her exactly how tor’um are treated in the Realm—and how Lena plans to change that.

Lena plans to change a lot of things, and as Aren describes fae society and how it’s become more and more segregated over the years, with the upper classes collecting privileges and favors while tor’um, imithi, and the weak are pushed to the side, I once again see the lighthearted but rebellious and cunning Aren, who draws people to him with his reckless smiles and crazy, convoluted schemes. It’s easy to see why the rebels were able to stir up such a strong opposition to the old Court.

In the decade I worked for King Atroth, no one, not even Thrain, gathered as much support as the rebels did. They made Atroth tighten his fist over the Realm, raiding people’s homes without cause and interrogating individuals who had no knowledge of the rebels’ plans. Atroth’s actions actually strengthened the Zarraks’ case for a change of regime. But even if they hadn’t, the rebels would have still been a thorn in the king’s side. Sethan was a diplomat. He gathered support with honesty and reason while Aren recruited fae using pure charisma. He makes people want to be on his side.

Kynlee giggles at something Aren says, and he smiles at her. It’s a genuine smile. He seems to like talking to the girl. His tone is teasing and protective, like he’s talking to a kid sister, but I think Kynlee might be developing a crush. I can’t blame her at all.

A little pang settles in my chest. We’ve passed the halfway point of my ultimatum. Aren has less than thirty-six hours to choose to be with me. I’m aware of each minute that ticks by; he doesn’t seem to be aware of any of them.

I turn away so I don’t have to see him laugh, and my gaze settles on Nick. He’s listening to Aren and Kynlee’s conversation from a barstool in the kitchen. The fact that he hasn’t interrupted Aren or sent Kynlee off to bed makes me think he appreciates Aren’s honesty. Aren hasn’t sugarcoated anything.