I shrug his hand off but sink down onto the chair.
“Is she shy?” Lorn asks, staring at me.
“Most likely she’s plotting an escape attempt,” Aren replies. Then he brushes my hood back. With my face exposed, I feel naked, but I manage to keep my expression blank. I hope I do, at least, because Aren’s right. I’m beginning to formulate a plan.
“Ah, there you are.” Lorn smiles. “And the edarratae. Quite beautiful. Taltrayn is very concerned about you. Odd, that. I’ve never seen the sword-master unsettled, but he very nearly slit my throat when he didn’t like what I had to say.”
“What did you tell him?” Lena demands.
Lorn’s eyes don’t leave me. “I told him, quite honestly at the time, I’ve never seen nor heard of a McKenzie Lewis. May I?” He holds his hand out, palm up.
I glance at Aren, searching for some kind of direction, but his face remains impassive.
Okay. Fine. I reach out and lay my hand in Lorn’s. I’m prepared for the hot lick of lightning, but Lorn sucks in a breath the second my edarratae seep into him
“Hmm,” he murmurs. “I’d wondered . . .” His grip tightens. The edarratae surge with the prolonged contact. Three bolts spiral around my wrist, then through his palm and up his arm. His coal gray pupils dilate, and I’m not sure if he’s going to let me go. Touching him feels strange and piercing, but I won’t tug free. I don’t want him to know how much this sensation affects me.
Aren straightens. Lorn’s gaze flickers to him briefly and then he releases my hand. “Well, that answers a few questions.”
I rub my palm over my pants leg, erasing the pleasant tingle. It’s easier to work with the Court, where no one but Kyol ever touches me.
“We need you to read her,” Lena says.
Lorn props his arm on the edge of the table. “She’s the Court’s toy. Certain people will be unhappy if she’s hurt.”
I glance between Lena and Lorn. Does she mean . . . Is Lorn a mind reader? Telepathy is supposed to be an extinct magic.
“I have money,” Lorn says after a moment. “I have silver. I have excellent informants and a good deal of influence throughout the Realm. What could you possibly offer in exchange for this service?”
“She knows the location of a Sidhe Tol.” Aren’s quiet words fall like a noose around my neck.
Lorn’s eyebrows go up. “Now, that’s interesting. Tell me, however did you learn that? I wouldn’t think Atroth would trust a human, not even his nalkin-shom, with that information.”
“I’ll work for you.” It’s a shot in the dark, I know. “Protect me, and I’ll read the shadows for you.”
“An intriguing offer,” Lorn says. “But I have no need of a shadow-reader, even one of your renown. You humans are tools for the Descendants, not for businessmen who stay out of wars for the throne.”
“If you force me to give them the Sidhe Tol, you’ll be taking sides. The king won’t let that slide.”
“I presume you’d disappear afterward.” He lifts an eyebrow in Lena’s direction. After she nods, he smiles. “The king will never know I was involved.”
I swear if I found some way to kill Lena, most of my problems would go away. Okay. I only have one more offer to make. “Protect me from the rebels and I’ll give the Sidhe Tol to you. You’ll be the only fae who knows its location.”
“Me and the king’s Inner Court, of course,” he says without missing a beat.
I feel a muscle twitch in my cheek. “Of course.”
Lorn glances at Aren, who’s standing over my shoulder. “I must say I’m tempted, Aren. I think you’ve captured more than you can handle.”
Aren ignores him, takes a parchment from his pocket, and unfolds it on the table. I stare at the blank sheet, knowing what he wants. I remember where the Sidhe Tol is. I can imagine the lines I need to draw, the curve of the shallow creek as it merges into the river.
“You’ve no reason to remain loyal to the Court, McKenzie. They’ve used you all these years.” Aren wraps my fingers around a pencil. “Help us.” My edarratae leap into him as he places the lead tip on the center of the page. “Please. I don’t want Lorn to have to pry it from your mind.”
My chest tightens. He looks and sounds so sincere, but damn it, I shouldn’t believe the word of my captor. Kyol didn’t make me fall in love with him just so I would help him fight his king’s enemies. He didn’t agree to a life-bond. He’s the man I think he is. Aren’s the one who’s been putting on an act. Lena came right out and said so.
I look at Kelia, how she’s relaxed into Naito’s arms by the opposite wall. They’re not putting on an act, though. Neither one is bloodthirsty or disillusioned.
“Negotiate.” I intended to make the word sound like an order, but it comes out more as a plea. If the rebels and Court fae would just agree to stop fighting, everyone would win.
“We’ve tried, McKenzie,” Aren says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. The tender gesture is a stark contrast to how he’s treated me since I called Paige. “We asked Atroth to restore the four provinces he absorbed into their neighbors. We asked him to stop invading our homes and to stop setting his nalkin-shom on us.” He kneels beside me and rests his hand on the back of my chair. “The only thing he agreed to was lowering the gate taxes. He did that within days of the meeting . . . for his friends and supporters. We didn’t want this war. Draw the map.”
My hand trembles as I drag the pencil down the page. The line is nothing but a delay tactic. Even if he’s telling the truth, I can’t give him the Sidhe Tol. It will only add to the violence.
“I wonder,” Lorn says above the soft scrawl of lead on paper. “Why did you side with the Court?”
I raise my eyes.
“Atroth is quite antihuman,” he continues. “He makes exceptions for those of you with the Sight, but still, you must feel the hostility. The king’s men aren’t like Lyechabans—they won’t cut the edarratae from your skin—but they don’t like you, do they?”
Atroth is antihuman? The Court hates my kind? They’re cautious around me, but I’ve never felt hatred. They’ve taken care of me.
“Do they?” Lorn asks again.
So it wasn’t a rhetorical question.
“Some of them do,” I say. Some of them are my friends. They speak with me and are curious about my life and my world. At least, I thought they were. Nothing makes sense anymore.
I return my attention to my sketch. My map will have to be a real one. Otherwise, they’ll know I’m not cooperating when they aren’t able to fissure when I name a city. But where to send them?
“There’s rumor of scandal in Atroth’s Inner Court.”
My pencil stills on the shore of a river, a river that’s nowhere near the Sidhe Tol.
Aren, kneeling by my side, says, “Finish it, McKenzie.”
“My informants say Taltrayn has fallen for a human.”
Silence takes over the room. I stare at Lorn. His lips curve up almost imperceptibly, but the smile is obvious in his eyes. Beside me, Aren doesn’t move.