But normal people do have jobs. They have homes and families and friends they don’t pull into wars. I need at least some of that if I’m going to stay sane. That’s why I have to make it back to Vegas. Despite the walk to the gate, I should still be able to make it in time to turn in my paperwork. But then, a part of me thinks that maybe I should give up on having a human life and concentrate on helping Lena secure the throne, instead. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting involved with the fae.

I rub at the headache growing behind my eyes. Everything will be simpler once this war ends.

“You’re going to have to send the former Court fae away,” I tell Kyol. “I know you don’t want to.”

He releases my arm, walks a few paces away, then stops with his back to me. “We’ll lose the palace without their help.”

“The way things are going, we’ll lose it with their help, too. We have to be able to trust the fae who are helping us.”

“I know,” he says. He grows quiet again, and it’s incredibly hard not to put my arms around him. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how much that would help. Plus, three of his swordsmen are standing nearby. Even if we were together still, I wouldn’t touch him.

“Are you okay?” I ask instead.

“It’s a shallow wound, McKenzie. It will heal quickly.”

My gaze drops to his elbow. It’s still bleeding, but not enough to cause concern.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “Are you okay?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again when he realizes what I’m asking. I stop breathing because, if he says he’s not okay, that I’m hurting him and that it’s painful to be around me, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t love him like I did before, but I’d still do just about anything for him. I want him to be happy.

Finally, the most miniscule of smiles breaks his expression. “I’m okay, McKenzie. It’s…” He pauses, his gaze goes to the left as if searching for the right words. “It’s different…being around you now. I still care for you. I still feel the need to protect you, and I don’t want to hurt or worry you. But, yes, I am okay.”

Another smile, slightly bigger this time, and something inside me uncoils. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my own mouth. This is going to work, us being around each other. I don’t have to be careful around him or feel awkward or guilty. He’s okay—we’re okay—and it’s the biggest relief in the world.

We start walking again, but less than a minute later, he says, “I need to speak with Lena. You should reach the gate by nightfall. I’ll make sure it’s protected. You’ll be okay.”

I can’t tell if that last part is a question or not. In the past, it would have been. But then, in the past, he most likely would have stayed with me and sent another fae to deliver his message.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.

His gaze moves from me to the three swordsmen trailing us—they’ll make sure I make it safely to the gate—then, without any other farewell, Kyol opens a fissure and disappears. It’s only after I blink the shadows from my vision that I realize I still have his name-cord in my pocket.

SEVEN

I STEP OUT of the In-Between and into the Vegas suite I share with Shane. Kyol underestimated the amount of time it took to reach the gate. It was closer to the middle of the night before the fae and I arrived. Fortunately, the remnants didn’t show up. Maybe they sent a scout who saw the thirty swordsmen and archers Kyol had sent to guard the gate. That force would deter most fae.

It wouldn’t have deterred Aren, though.

If Aren were leading the remnants, he would have found a way to achieve his goal. That was his specialty, attacking against the odds. He and Lena are having a tougher time now that they’re on the defense.

After my fae escort leaves, I glance inside Shane’s room. I don’t see him sprawled across his bed, so my best guess is he’s in the Realm, making himself useful. The alarm clock on his nightstand says it’s just after 1 A.M. Thank God. I can take a nap and still have time to take my driver’s license and Social Security card to Jenkins. He needs it by five o’clock tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait until then. I need to mark that off my list today so I can concentrate on finding Paige.

I fall into bed, too tired to do anything more than take off my shoes and socks and unbelt the scabbard from around my waist. Twenty minutes later, though, I’m still lying here exhausted, but awake. My mind won’t shut off. I’m worried about Paige. The tor’um knew who she was. If I had any doubt the remnants had her, I don’t anymore.

Opening my eyes, I stare at the ceiling. I hope the remnants have let Paige see them. I hope they’ve tried to explain things to her. But even if they haven’t, even if she thinks she’s trapped in a bad dream or that she’s snapped, I can fix it. I’ll tell her everything. King Atroth forbade it when he was alive. He thought he was preserving the Realm’s magic by keeping the human and fae worlds as separate as possible, but that’s not the only reason I kept silent about them. The one time I tried to tell a Sightless human about the fae, I ended up in a mental institution. That’s where I met Paige. She hated Bedfont House as much as I did. She won’t want to go back.

I roll to my side, pulling my covers over my head.

“I think I’m crazy,” I tell Paige as I stare at the white wall across from my bed. The counselors at Bedfont House leave it bare and encourage us to decorate it however we want. I haven’t lifted a finger to do so. When I first arrived, I thought if I put up a picture or poster, it would be like I’m admitting that I belong here. Now, I’m thinking maybe I do. I haven’t seen any lightning-covered fae in more than three weeks. Maybe I made them up. Maybe I made it all up.

“Everyone here is crazy,” Paige says, not looking away from her handheld mirror. Her eyes are opened wide while she puts on glittery mascara. Her side of the room is decorated. She painted it black. How the hell she got a hold of black paint, nobody, not even the staff, knows. They didn’t make her repaint it, and they’ve said nothing about the posters of cemeteries and creepy old houses she’s put up. The wall is accented with red: a scarf hanging near the door, a crimson teddy bear sitting on her dresser, the bright silk pillow that’s between her and the wall at her back. She has bats in her blond hair. Six of them. They’re tiny black clips with glitter on the wings.

We’ve been rooming together for two weeks now, and if you ask me, this whole Goth thing isn’t really her. I think she’s putting on a show to screw with the staff.

I return to staring at my blank wall. In the corner of my vision, I see her put down her mascara. She sits up, swinging her legs off the side of her bed so that she’s facing me.

“Okay, fine,” she says, sounding impatient. “Why do you think you’re crazy?”

I frown. Did I say I was crazy? I can’t remember. My mind feels heavy, sluggish. The white wall across from me is oppressively bright. It’s almost as hard to look at as a fissure opening.

Ah, a fissure. The fae. That’s right. I do think I’m crazy. I hope I am, at least, because if I’m not, if the fae do exist and I can see them and read their shadows, then I was taken advantage of. I helped Kyol and his king hunt down the false-blood Thrain, and now that he’s dead, they’re through with me.