“Aren,” my voice cracks.

“Jorreb!” Kyol shouts. His gaze locks with mine, and in that one brief moment, I know. I know he sprung Radath’s trap and came here to die. He didn’t come prepared to kill his king. The horror of his choice, of his decision, is reflected in his eyes, and a part of him shatters when he draws the dagger across Atroth’s throat.

Aren turns toward Radath, but he’s too late. He can’t get out of the way, not without leaving me exposed. He presses me to the ground as Radath lunges forward, sword raised.

No!

Radath smiles.

No!

The smile’s still there when Kyol’s blade plunges into his back. Radath’s eyes widen. His mouth contorts into a sneer. With his last breath, he swings his sword down, but Kyol shoves him forward.

The lord general stumbles over us, his blade narrowly missing Aren. He vanishes into the ether the moment he hits the ground.

THIRTY-ONE

SOMETIME LATER—MINUTES, hours, days, I have no concept of time—the battle is over. Supposedly, it’s a victory. It doesn’t feel like one. I’m in the sculpture garden, sitting on a marble pedestal. Two stone fae rise up behind me, the shadows cast by their swords crossing at my feet. The bladeshadow on the left points to a smear of blood not too far away. There are a lot of those throughout the palace, a lot of them in my memory, too.

Naito’s rampaging somewhere nearby. Lena won’t let him leave the palace. At least for a while. Until the pain and anger subside. Until he’s no longer determined to hunt down his father. It’s for his own good, she says. She’s worried about the vigilantes killing him. I’m worried he’ll end up imprisoned for murder.

Something shatters, and Naito’s shouts end. I close my eyes, sympathizing with his pain, his need for vengeance. I doubt he’ll ever be able to go home.

I’ve only caught glimpses of Kyol and Aren since they left the king’s hall. They’ve been occupied securing the palace. The rebels have blocked off the residential wings. Every other room and corridor has archers—both rebels and the handful of Court fae Kyol trusts—standing ready to kill. Word has been circulated that they’re to shoot anyone who fissures here as soon as they step out of the light. So far, the strategy has worked. The Court fae have almost completely stopped using the Sidhe Tol.

I lean back against the legs of one of the stone fae. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is just now beginning its descent from the bright blue sky. Without Naito screaming, it’s quiet. If I keep my gaze away from the bloodstains, it’s peaceful even. There’s something very wrong about that. A day like this should be filled with darkness. It should be filled with clouds and the threat of violent weather.

“McKenzie.”

Lorn stands a few paces away. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. His white shirt is wrinkled and dingy, his shoulders are slumped, and his silver eyes seem darker, duller, than normal.

My throat closes up. It did the same thing earlier when Lord Raen found me. I couldn’t say anything then, but I didn’t have to. Kelia’s father took one look at my face and paled. Tears blurred my eyes. By the time my vision cleared, he was gone.

Lorn sits beside me.

“I hired fae to protect her,” he says.

I look at him, but he’s staring at the floor.

“I haven’t heard from them,” he continues. “I assume they entered the ether before she did.”

“It was chaotic.”

There’s something pensive in his soft hmm. We sit in companionable silence for a while. Then a stream of curses comes from nearby. Naito again.

Lorn looks in the direction of the subsequent crash. His Adam’s apple bobs once before he thins his lips and straightens his shoulders.

“That must end,” he says, almost sounding like his normal self. Almost.

He stands, starts to take a step away, but a flash of light cuts through the air. The Court fae is in this world for all of a half second before three arrows pierce his chest. I watch, not even flinching, as his soul-shadow rises into the air.

This time, Lorn’s hmm is heavy with perception. “You’re not doing well.”

“Nobody’s doing well.” Him included.

“True. But everyone else here reacted when that fissure opened. You didn’t. You would be dead if it wasn’t for the archers.” When I don’t respond, he sighs. “You’re not going to recover here. You should go back to your world.”

“I’m fine,” I say.

“You just pointed out nobody is fine. If you’re staying for them, you shouldn’t. Seeing you like this will not cheer either of them up.”

“If a fae uses illusion—”

“By the time you reacted, your warning would be far too late.” He shrugs. “Do what you will, but if you do decide to take my advice, I can have a fae fissure you to a safe place.”

“I’m fine,” I say again. If I keep repeating it to myself, maybe one day it will be true.

IN the end, Lena orders me to go back to Earth. She claims she wants me fresh and alert in case the remnants of the Court fae launch an organized attack. I don’t want to admit it, but she and Lorn are both right. Being back in my world helps some. I can almost pretend I’m normal, that I know nothing of the Realm and the fae and the war that has taken too many lives. Almost.

I switch off the television. The channel has been running the same story over and over again even though the Canadian authorities have no new information about what happened in Lynn Valley. Half a neighborhood caught fire—so did a portion of the forest behind it—and three humans died. The thing that perplexes the investigators the most is that the residents in four of the homes are missing. They can’t find the tor’um despite the fact that some of the neighbors are certain they were there when the blaze erupted.

I hate that the fae’s war spilled over into my world. A month ago, I would have sworn if that happened, it would be the rebels’ fault, but they were careful when they abducted me from campus. Aren didn’t allow his people to use magic that would be visible to humans, and he made sure they were careful when they aimed their bows—every arrow the rebels fired hit either a fae or a fissure. The Court fae weren’t as cautious, and the Canadian authorities don’t know what to make of the half dozen arrows they found during their investigation.

I rise off the couch. I’m staying in a suite in Las Vegas. Apparently, this is Lorn’s idea of a safe place. With all the tech infused throughout the city, he’s probably right. No fae is going to want to stay here more than a few minutes.

I’m heading for one of the three bedrooms, determined to sleep for more than two hours this time, when my skin tingles. I feel him, a familiar warmth I’ll never be able to forget.

“How are you?” Kyol asks.

I don’t know why his question brings on the tears—I haven’t cried since I saw Lord Raen—but my chin quivers and the dam I built to hold back my emotions shatters completely. I spin toward him and then throw my arms around his neck. His arms tighten around me, and he holds me like nothing has changed.

Everything’s changed. Nothing will ever be the same between us.

“Kaesha.”

I lay my head against his chest, hear his heart thumping. Somehow, it manages to sound heavy and broken. Or maybe that’s my heart.