“Kaesha,” Kyol breathes out. “Don’t cry. Please. Come here.”

He drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his embrace. I close my eyes, selfishly soak in his scent and his warmth.

“I came out here to comfort you,” I whisper.

His arm tightens around my shoulders.

“This comforts me,” he says. “This comforts me very much.”

TWENTY-NINE

THE VIGILANTES’ JET landed in Great Falls about three hours ago. It will take them almost four hours to drive and then hike to the stream the Court fae are guarding. We won’t fissure out until Aren’s scouts report they’ve arrived. It’s nearly time to go, but I’ve never had to wait this long for an operation before. It’s nerve-wracking.

Not for Aren, though. He’s sitting in the living room cracking jokes. It’s annoying, how collected and carefree he seems. I finally ate a decent meal so, physically, I’m doing better. Emotionally, though, I’m stretched thin. Every time I’m in the same room with Kyol, I feel like I’m ripping his heart from his chest, especially if I’m anywhere near Aren. Because I can’t stand hurting him, I’m doing my best to stay away from both fae.

I choke down a few swallows of cabus, chase it with almost half a can of Dr Pepper. I told Kyol he didn’t have to help the rebellion, but he said he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to me. Besides, he’s determined to send Radath to the ether. That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything happens to Kyol, I won’t forgive myself.

“McKenzie.”

Naito holds out a belt with an empty holster. Reluctantly, I push my chair away from the kitchen table and stand, taking the belt and putting it on.

“This is the safety.” He flicks up a little lever on the right side of the gun in his hand. “Press here to change the magazine.” He pushes a button on the grip, lets the black rectangle drop an inch, then clicks it back into place before holding it out. “There are extra magazines in the bag with your sketchbook.”

Fabulous. I slip the gun into the holster at my hip.

Before I’m able to sit back down, the back door swings open. I step into the living room in time to see one of Aren’s scouts stride in. A wave of uneasiness washes through me. I don’t have a good feeling about this. I feel like my luck has run out, that if we go through with these attacks at the Sidhe Tol and the invasion of the Silver Palace, someone I care about isn’t going to return.

Lena gives orders to the gathered fae. Fissures rip through the air and most of the rebels disappear. Naito follows Evan and Kelia out the back door, leaving just me, Lena, Aren, and Kyol inside.

“You two will work together?” Lena asks them. I think she really wants to know neither of them will be stabbing the other in the back. I’m not worried about Kyol losing control. Aren on the other hand . . .

“We’ll sort out our differences later,” he says.

Lena doesn’t look entirely satisfied with that answer, but she nods and fissures out. When Kyol exits the back door, I return to the kitchen to grab the army green satchel with my sketchbook, pencils, and, apparently, extra magazines. I’m praying I won’t need the latter. I might not need the sketchbook either. Even if Radath shows up in Montana, odds are against me being within shadow-reading distance when he fissures out. But maybe I can sketch out the locations of one or two other officers if I’m nearby when they flee. Better to be prepared.

Aren blocks my path when I turn. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t seem angry either. He knows I’ve been avoiding him, and I’m surprised—and maybe disappointed?—he hasn’t cornered me before now.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says. “I shouldn’t have provoked Taltrayn.”

He’s apologizing? He has a hard time even acknowledging Kyol’s existence. “He’s still taking me through the gate.”

Lena made that call earlier, agreeing with Kyol that we’d be more efficient together than Aren and I since we haven’t exactly cooperated on anything since we’ve met.

“I know,” Aren says. “But I wanted to apologize. I don’t want Taltrayn to convince you I’m the bad guy.”

At that, I give a short laugh. “You are the bad guy, Aren.”

He frowns, and I realize he’s taking my words the wrong way.

“What I mean is you’re the . . . well, the rebel. Kyol’s the good guy. He’s made mistakes, yes, but he loves me.”

He cocks his head to the side. His gaze makes my skin tingle. The step he takes toward me is hesitant, careful, and when his silver eyes peer down at me, I stop breathing. His lips are so close. I remember the way they felt pressed against mine. I remember his taste, the heat of his edarratae.

The smallest distance separates us when he whispers, “You don’t think I’m in love with you?”

“I . . .”

I don’t know, and I can’t answer him anyway because he lowers his head. I raise mine. His kiss is gentle, tentative, like he’s afraid of breaking this moment and breaking me. It takes only a heartbeat before I really do break. I grab the back of his neck, pulling him hard against my mouth until he responds. Chaos lusters fire from his lips and from the hands cradling my face. The lightning sparks across my skin, buries itself low in my stomach, and I moan.

His fingers clutch at my shoulders. He gasps my name as he separates his mouth from mine. “If you keep making noises like that, we’ll never get out of here.”

I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with him. I want to see if we could work, if we could be something together.

“McKenzie,” he breathes out when I pull him back for another kiss. He presses his forehead against mine. “You’re killing me. We have to go. Or you can stay but I . . .” He swallows. “Sidhe, I have to go.”

He’s right. Damn it, he’s right. I bite my lower lip, then nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “It’s nice, you letting yourself want me.” His fingers graze my cheek and then diamonds glitter in his silver eyes. “Ah, a rare smile. I could die happy right now.”

I laugh. “I smiled a lot before I met you.”

“I’ll make sure you smile a lot more.” I shudder when he kisses my palm. “A whole lot more. Right after we overthrow the king.”

IT’S too fucking quiet. The vigilantes and the Court fae are both supposed to be here. I should hear gunfire and the sharp shrrips of fissures ripping through the air, not my thumping heart and the wet plop of rainwater dripping from the trees.

Kyol pulls me to a crouch on the soggy ground and cocks his head to listen. Thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s supposed to rain off and on all day. Aren’s counting on it, actually. If the vigilantes deploy silver dust again, a good, hard shower should take care of it. Right now, though, a sticky humidity thickens the air, making it hard to breathe. The Kevlar vest under my camo clings to my torso, and my sweat-soaked undershirt rubs against my skin. With their jaedric cuirasses under their fatigues, the rebels have to be sweltering just as much.

Kyol lowers his mouth to my ear.

“Two Court fae. Ahead and . . .” His lips graze my ear. A chaos luster reverberates down my neck. It pools in my stomach.