Lifting my good arm takes a hell of a lot of effort. The tendons in my shoulder are tight and I feel weak, like I’ve swum for hours in a pool and now have to bear my full weight again. Kelia drops two pills onto my open palm. Even they feel heavy.

“I don’t think ibuprofen’s going to help,” I tell her.

“These are a bit stronger than that.”

My gaze returns to her and I lift an eyebrow. “Robbing pharmacies now, are you?”

“A few pills won’t be missed,” she says dismissively.

I pop them into my mouth and Kelia hands me her waterskin. When I nearly drop it, she helps me tip it back. I swallow the pills, not really caring what they are so long as they ease the pain in my arm.

“Thank you,” I say when she takes the skin away.

“If you’re thankful, don’t try to escape again.”

I snort. “Sure. No problem.”

Her eyes narrow as she leans forward to set her mason jar down, but her glare lacks real scorn. I think we’re both trying to hate each other. And we’re both failing.

The creak of the door opening draws both our attentions. I hear Kelia suck in a breath and then she’s suddenly across the room and in the newcomer’s arms.

“Naito!” she cries out.

I blink a few times. I try not to let my mouth hang open, but she’s kissing the guy and despite the sound of his name, he’s not fae.

Kelia takes a tiny step back, but keeps her hands on the man’s chest, touching him like he might not be real. Now that they’re not lip-locked, I note his disheveled black hair and the sharp planes of his face. He’s at least half Asian, but 100 percent human.

Kelia kisses him again, longer, more deeply this time, and a chaos luster flickers from her face to his, shimmying down his neck to disappear under the bloodstained collar of his shirt.

“What happened?” she asks. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” Naito says. “The blood’s not mine.”

She falls into his arms again. He holds her tight, but his eyes are locked on me. I’m too stunned to look away. He’s human, she’s fae, and I can’t help but wonder what would happen if Kyol joined the rebellion. Could we be together then? I want him more than anything, but I’ve never asked him to abandon the Court. Would he if I asked?

Guilt spikes through my chest. I’ve no right to ask that. No right at all.

Naito eases Kelia back a half step, then runs his hands down her arms. When he reaches her wrists, he stops, scowls, and drops his gaze to the watch I let her borrow.

“What the hell is this?” he demands.

She hops back like she’s been stung. Her right hand darts to cover her left wrist. “It’s nothing.”

“We’ve been over this,” he says. At least, I think that’s what he says. Apparently, I’m not the only human the rebels have taught to speak Fae. He continues scolding her, but his words come too quickly now for me to follow. Kelia’s lip twists into a pout, but she lets him unlatch the watch from her wrist.

He crosses the room and holds it out to me. “Yours, I presume.”

I nod, still a bit dumbfounded.

He tosses the watch onto my bed. “Don’t give that to her again. That or any other tech.”

I don’t know whether to be annoyed for Kelia’s sake at his overprotectiveness or to find it endearing. Honestly, she shouldn’t have touched my watch, let alone wear it. A pale circlet of blue shades her wrist as if her skin’s been bruised, though the coloring is too phosphorescent for that. Most likely, such a simple piece of tech won’t do lasting damage to her magic.

Naito’s still watching me. I think he’s waiting for a response until he says, “So. You’re Aren’s shadow-witch.”

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. “I’m not Aren’s anything.”

“Sure.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I heard you’re better than the rumors.”

“I’m better than you.” When the words slip out, I suppress a grimace. I shouldn’t have said that, even if it’s undoubtedly true.

“What makes you think I read the shadows?”

“Why else would you be here?” I can’t help but look at Kelia when she steps to his side.

“Maybe I just have the Sight,” he says, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Maybe.” I’m not jealous of the two of them. I’m not.

Kelia’s hand tightens around his as she peers up at him. “What happened?”

His smile fades and he looks suddenly weary. “The Court’s arresting fae who sympathize with us, hoping they’ll have information on her.” He nods toward me. “The people they took didn’t know anything, but Aren stepped in anyway. We freed most of them. Almost captured another one of Atroth’s shadow-readers, but the sword-master showed up.” His gaze settles on me. “The son of Taltrayn isn’t happy he lost you. He’s personally leading the attacks against our people.”

“Your people?”

“I’m as much a part of the rebellion as you’re a part of the Court,” he says, pausing to study me. “But I think my people might respect and include me more than yours respect and include you.”

“I get plenty of respect.”

“But they don’t include you, do they? Don’t tell you their plans or the consequences of what you do for them. They’ve even forbidden you to speak their language.”

I raise my chin, trying to appear confident. It’s not an easy thing to do with a broken arm and bruised body, but his criticism gets my hackles up. “They’ve never locked me in a room and threatened my life.”

“Just because you don’t know you’re a prisoner doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”

“And your injuries are your fault,” Kelia tosses in.

I throw her a quick glare before returning my attention to Naito. “The Court takes care of me. It takes care of the Realm. It doesn’t burn families to death behind silver-painted walls.”

Naito’s nostrils flare at the reference to Brykeld, but he doesn’t say anything, so I press on. “It doesn’t hide in the homes of innocent fae or starve people to try to get its way.”

His eyebrows rise. “Starve people?”

“That’s what happens when you attack the gates. You’re disrupting commerce. Merchants are afraid to travel because of you.”

“You think we’re starving people?” He throws back his head and laughs. “You believe everything the Court tells you, don’t you?”

Oh, big mistake, buddy. Nothing sets me off like a condescending laugh. Not that I can do anything about it but simmer from my roost on my bed, but I’ll be damned if I ever help these people. Aren is responsible for the massacre at Brykeld, and I’ve seen the consequences of the rebels’ other actions. Their sporadic attacks on the gates have forced merchants to hire guards or journey solely by road to reach their destinations. The cost of that is passed on to the rest of the Realm, and not all the fae can pay the higher prices. Those who can’t, go days, sometimes weeks, without food.

“We’re not the reason people are going hungry,” Naito says when his laughter subsides. “People are going hungry because of Atroth and his taxes.”