Aren lets out a caustic laugh.

“It was probably Radath,” I say quickly, before this discussion turns into an argument. “I’m sure they’ll go to the Sidhe Tol if Naito tips them off to its location.”

“No,” Naito says. “I don’t want anything to do with my father.”

Aren leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You don’t have to see him. Just make a phone call. Give him the location of the gate and tell him fae will be there.”

“He’ll question my motivation.”

“Tell him Kelia’s left you for someone else.”

Kelia makes a face at this, but says nothing.

“We’ll find some other way,” Naito grinds out.

“I can call him,” I say.

Naito argues, but in the end, he has no choice except to agree. He gives me his father’s phone number with the caveat that I can’t call him from anywhere close by. He doesn’t want Nakano to know where he lives. I think it’s overkill, but Aren has Nalst fissure me to a pay phone in New York.

The call is short, partly because I don’t want to say anything that will make Nakano suspicious, but mostly because I’m worried about Kyol and Aren being in the same room together. Within twenty minutes of arriving in New York, we’re at the city’s only gate. I don’t realize the short turnaround time is a bad idea until Nalst takes me through the second fissure.

As soon as the In-Between releases me, I collapse to my knees in Naito’s backyard and draw air into frozen lungs. Knives of ice slash my stomach to shreds. I cough, expecting to see blood splatter on the dew-covered grass, but Nalst lifts me back to my feet. He half drags, half carries me to the back door and shoves it open.

“Aren!”

By the time Aren reaches me, the world levels out. The sharp cramps in my stomach ease, leaving behind a dull ache and some queasiness.

Aren lays the back of his hand against my cheek. “Sidhe, you’re cold. I should have made you drink the cabus. Can you walk?”

At my nod, he leads me to the kitchen table. Kyol is there, sitting with his back to the wall, watching me. I give him a smile to tell him I’m fine. His jaw clenches, but he returns his attention to the maps spread out before him. Lena is sitting to his left, studying the maps, too. Most of her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, but she’s left the front sections framing her face. With her head tilted downward, those honey gold locks brush the edge of the table.

Aren lowers me into the chair across from her, then continues on into the kitchen.

“Did you reach Nakano?” Lena asks without looking up.

I glance to my right at Naito, who’s sitting with his arm draped around Kelia’s shoulders. He toys with the name-cord braided into her hair and doesn’t give any indication to show he’s listening.

“Yeah,” I say. “I couldn’t tell if he believed me. He didn’t say much.”

Naito doesn’t weigh in with an opinion. I guess it doesn’t matter if the vigilantes show; Lena is planning on going through with this no matter what.

“McKenzie.” Aren sits beside me, putting a fresh glass of cabus on the table. I didn’t drink any of it before. I guess I should have. Because I’m feeling weak and shaky, I raise the glass to my lips, and tilt my head back.

I intend to down it without stopping for a breath, but I only manage two swallows before I gag. I swipe the back of my hand across my watering eyes. I’d rather chew on bitterbark for a week than take another sip.

“How’s the plan coming?” I ask, a diversion designed to keep Aren from insisting I drink more. I’ll finish the glass. Eventually.

Kyol’s eyes meet mine, linger. When he glances at the cabus, I realize I must look awful—pale, probably—and I have the distinct feeling he wants to walk around the table and take me in his arms.

He doesn’t, of course. His face expressionless, he turns to Aren and asks, “How many humans do you have working with you?”

“Five,” he answers, matching Kyol’s neutral tone. “Trev will bring back our other three. They’re not shadow-readers, just humans with the Sight. We’ll split them between the Sidhe Tol. The fae who attack in Montana will have to do with just one.”

“You have six humans,” I say, ignoring the tension between the two fae. I frown at the map in the center of the table. The Court will probably have three or four humans at each location. We’ll still be at a disadvantage. “You can send me to Montana.”

“We’ll make do with who we have,” Aren says.

“You need me—more than me, actually.”

“No.” His tone makes it sound as if everything is settled.

My knee-jerk reaction is to snap that he doesn’t control me, but I manage to choke back the words. He’s just trying to protect me. I get that.

“What if Radath or some of the king’s other officers show up? You’ll need shadow-readers at each Sidhe Tol to track them.”

He pulls a map of Montana closer.

I turn to Kyol. “Tell him he needs me.”

“You’re in no shape for this, McKenzie.” He says it so simply, so evenly, so goddamn gently.

“So both of you would rather be distracted by illusions? You want the rest of the rebels to be distracted by them? That’s bullshit. Fewer fae will die if I’m there.”

“I won’t let Naito go if she doesn’t,” Kelia says.

Naito cocks an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. “I won’t. If they’re going to make McKenzie stay home because they’re worried about her getting hurt, then I’ll make you stay home, too.”

Naito just shakes his head with a smile, pulls her to him, and gives her a loving kiss on the forehead. “I’ll still go, but we need the nalkin-shom. If Radath or the king’s other officers are there, McKenzie can identify them. She can track them if they try to escape, and we do need the extra pair of eyes.”

Kyol’s fists clench on top of the table. It’s a small sign of his anger, but from a man who’s an expert at concealing his emotions, it’s as significant as a bomb exploding.

“I’ll be fine, Kyol.”

He shakes his head. “Radath will order his men to target you.”

“They . . .” Oh. That’s what this is about. Radath knows how Kyol feels about me. He knows he can use me to get to the sword-master. I can’t let that stop me from helping, though, so I scan the others at the table, trying to find some support or inspiration. My gaze rests on Naito, the only person here besides me who doesn’t have edarratae flashing across his skin. “They won’t know who I am.”

Kyol draws in a breath. “You’re very noticeable, kaesha.”

An ache twinges through my heart. I push the pain aside, focus on our problem. “If we all wear camouflage, they won’t be able to tell us apart.”

Aren makes a noise that’s half harrumph, half laugh. Before I can stop him, he kisses my cheek. A chaos luster bolts from his lips to my skin, sending a shock of tingling heat down my neck.

“You’re brilliant,” he says. He leans forward to see past me to Naito. “The vigilantes will be wearing it, right? Can we get enough uniforms in a day?”