I flip open Naito’s sketchbook, rest it on my knee, and start sketching. I draw three thick, wavy lines at the top of the page. It’s the Daric Ocean. I frown at the shadows, scratch down a few bottomless triangles. It’s the same mountain range, too. The fae didn’t fissure to the exact location Aylen did, but it’s close enough to be extremely coincidental.

I flip to the next page, narrow down my map. He’s close to a winding street on the west side of the city. He might even be on it, but I’m not 100 percent sure. I wait for the shadows to shift, see a thin dark line appear in the center of my vision. An intersection. I mark an “x” where the shadows tell me he exited, then turn to Aren.

“He’s gone to Eksan,” I say. “I just drew—”

Trev fissures out.

“Thank you.” Aren rests his hand briefly on my bent knee before he rises.

“Aren—”

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. Then he disappears into a slash of white light.

ELEVEN

I’M ANNOYED. so annoyed, I don’t get drawn in by Aren’s shadows. I get that he needed to go, but it was obvious I was trying to tell him something. Trev had already left. Would it have killed Aren to wait five seconds? I’m sure it’s just a coincidence—Eksan is a huge city—but it’s possible there could be a connection between the remnants and Aylen. Between the remnants and Lorn. He called Aylen an “associate of an associate.” That could mean anything.

“What do we do with this?” Hison’s guard asks. She’s staring at me.

I’m so close to saying something because, really, what are the consequences if they learn I speak Fae? Hison will be pissed at Lena for letting me learn the language, but he’s already not happy I’m here in his world.

I look at the spot where Aren disappeared. How long until he gets back? He said “soon,” but if the fae didn’t fissure directly to the remnants, Trev and Aren will have to follow him. And then, there’s always the chance the fae will double fissure—that’s how Aren evaded us for so long. Toward the end, we had a second shadow-reader standing by at a gate. After I mapped the fae, one of Kyol’s men would fissure to that human, then take him or her through the gate to the location I sketched out. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but we did come closer to capturing Aren that way.

That’s probably why he started fissuring more than two times. It’s an impressive talent. After traveling a substantial distance, most fae have to wait two or three minutes before they’re able to enter the In-Between again.

“Jorreb will come back for her,” Hison says. “If she didn’t lead him into a trap.”

“You think she’s feeding information to the remnants?”

Okay, so maybe this is why I don’t want them to know I can speak Fae. People are loose with their tongues when they don’t think I can understand them. Also: what the hell? I’ve been working my ass off for the rebels.

“It would explain why she tolerates being near the protégé of a false-blood.”

I stare down at the sketchbook still propped on my knee. I retrace one of my marks, clenching my teeth together so I don’t say anything. Sethan wasn’t a false-blood. Lena isn’t either. They’re Descendants of the Tar Sidhe just like Atroth was. I confirmed that with more than one former Court fae after we took the palace.

“Humans don’t care about false-bloods,” the bodyguard says.

“This one does.”

I can feel Hison’s gaze. He’s waiting for me to look up. If I don’t, I think it will be suspicious, so I raise my eyes from the sketchbook and meet his. I’m through with letting fae intimidate me.

“What?” I stand, so my demand has more of an impact.

Hison doesn’t look away. “Did you understand Jorreb’s conversation with her?”

“Some of it. He told her why she is here,” the bodyguard tells him.

“No mention of Thrain?”

The name makes my blood turn cold. No, no, no. Kyol killed him—I saw his soul-shadow—and banek’tan do not exist. Thrain is dead. Aren would tell me if he wasn’t.

But Aren did say Lena shouldn’t have sent me here. Is this why?

“You speak Fae.”

Hison’s statement pulls me out of my near panic. I shake my head, clearing my mind, and focus on the high noble. My thoughts obviously showed on my face, but Thrain in Fae is the same as Thrain in English. His conclusion that I speak his language is a guess.

“What about Thrain?” I ask.

The bodyguard translates what I said. Hison’s eyes narrow. He looks directly at me when he says, “Jorreb is his protégé.”

Aren? It takes everything in me to look confusedly back and forth between the two fae. Inside, though, I feel sick. Is it true? Hison could just be trying to get a reaction from me, but this could explain why Aren asked if I was okay in Rhigh. If he’s connected to Thrain, he could know Thrain kept me here.

Hison takes a step closer. “You do understand me, don’t you?”

I furrow my brow further. Then my skin tingles. A second later, Aren steps into the living room. I let myself give in to the urge to stare at his shadows because it’s an excuse not to meet his eyes.

“That didn’t take long,” Hison says, sounding disappointed. “Were you successful?”

In my peripheral vision, I see Aren nod. “He led us to a home where three others were meeting. They’ll be taken to Corrist.” He turns to me. “We can go now, McKenzie.”

I should win an Oscar. I meet Aren’s eyes, and I smile. “Back to the suite or to Corrist?”

Maybe the smile is too much. His gaze drops to my lips, and his brow wrinkles slightly as he frowns. “Corrist, if that’s okay.”

“It’s great,” I tell him cheerily.

“Your shadow-witch isn’t as terrifying as the stories make her out to be,” Hison says.

Aren glances at the high noble. “That’s because she’s not your enemy. Lena will contact you if we learn anything from the fae.” He takes my arm, and I’m thankful for the protection the cloak offers against his touch. I can’t deal with any chaos lusters right now.

“I heard Thrain discovered her ten years ago,” Hison calls after us. “Is that true?”

Aren tenses. He turns his head to the side but doesn’t quite look over his shoulder. “I’ve heard that as well.” He reaches for the doorknob.

“It’s a shame Atroth stole her from you,” Hison adds.

Aren looks down at me. My face is expressionless when I meet his eyes, and that’s all he needs to know that I know.

“I didn’t know her then,” he says, then he opens the door.

“CAN we talk about this?” Aren asks, keeping pace by my side. That pisses me off even more than I already was because I’m walking as quickly as I can. If he were human, he wouldn’t be anywhere near me. I don’t want him near me right now.

“I didn’t know you then,” he says, when I don’t respond. “I swear I never saw you. I broke ties with Thrain about the same time he took you.”

“So you claim.” I stuff Naito’s sketchbook into one of the big pockets on the inside of my cloak. The snow is beginning to fall faster, but I’m too angry to feel the bite of the air.