“Same thing with this one,” he says. “It’s a little older, but there were dozens of witnesses. A fae died in the silver mines of Adaris. His bond-mate was able to bring him back. I’ve found twelve stories like these from the past century. Twelve. There has to be some truth to them.”
There’s so much hope in his voice, I almost want to let him believe this. Would it be so wrong to? This is the best he’s looked in weeks. He has a reason to live, but these…these stories are just that. Stories. They’re rumors. Dreams. I want to believe them, too, but I’ve learned the hard way that life isn’t a fairy tale. People don’t come back from the dead.
No. I was wrong before when I thought it was too soon for him to go back to work. He needs the distraction. He doesn’t need to sit around researching dreams that can’t come true. It isn’t healthy.
“What happened to them?” I ask.
His brows lower. “What do you mean?”
“These fae who came back from the ether. Where are they now?”
He blinks, then stares down at the pages in front of him. “I’m not sure.”
I wait a moment, letting him think things through. “Naito, the banek’tan don’t exist.”
He looks up again, his expression hardening. “Neither did the ther’othi.”
And one point goes to Naito. Fae aren’t supposed to be able to walk the In-Between, but Micid could. He was a cruel, sick fae who worked for the previous king and his lord general, Radath. Instead of going through the In-Between, the freezing space fae pass through when they fissure, he waded in, taking me with him into a dimension within a world. We were invisible to everyone, but could still move and interact with the world. I suppose I can see why Naito is clinging to this hope, but it’s so, so thin. If a fae was ever brought back from the ether, there would be more evidence than what’s hinted at in these documents.
I draw in a breath, let it out slowly, then go for a not-so-subtle subject change. “Lena’s having a hard time keeping the palace secure.”
“Hmm,” Naito murmurs, leaning back in his chair and pulling a book closer. “She needs more fae to guard the Sidhe Tol.”
“The Sidhe Tol aren’t the problem,” I say. They’re not entirely the problem. A Sidhe Tol is a very rare and very special type of gate that allows a fae to fissure into an area protected by silver. We know the locations of three of them, but rumor has it there are more. No one’s been able to find them, and until two weeks ago, no one but the king and a few trusted advisors knew where they were. I wasn’t supposed to know where they were, but Kyol fissured me through one once. I gave the rebels its location, and then, they learned where the other two were as well. They used the Sidhe Tol to take the palace. Now, we have to guard them to make sure the former Court fae don’t do the same thing to us.
“The remnants are launching organized attacks from within the silver walls,” I tell Naito. “They have illusionists and all of the humans who used to work for the Court. Lena needs—”
“Not all of them,” Naito interrupts. “They don’t have you. I hear they don’t have that Shane guy, either.”
So he is aware of some of the things that are going on around the palace. That’s good. It means he isn’t completely lost in his research here. “Lena needs your help.”
“I’m busy.”
“Naito.”
“I said I’m busy.” His glare comes off as a warning not to press the issue further.
Too bad. I have to.
“And how much time do you think you’ll have for your research if we lose the palace?” I demand. “Do you think the remnants will just let you hang out here?”
His bottom lip twitches.
“You need to join the rotation,” I say. “With you and Shane, there are six of us working for Lena. We can keep all the entrances watched.”
Naito’s gaze grows distant, focusing somewhere behind me. “It won’t make a difference. We can’t keep watch indefinitely. Lena needs to take out the remnants’ leader. She needs to go on the offensive.”
It’s hard to argue with that because it’s true. The rebels’ other Sighted humans and I are almost burned-out already. We need a break, and while Naito and Shane will help lighten our workload, it’s only a temporary solution.
Naito is still staring behind me. I look over my shoulder just as Kyol reaches our table.
“I need a shadow-reader,” he says. “Quickly.”
I rise automatically, not noticing until I’m already standing that Kyol isn’t focused on me. He’s focused on Naito. Naito meets his gaze but doesn’t say a word for a good six seconds.
“I’m busy.” He returns to reading the documents in front of him.
I don’t know if it’s obvious what Naito is researching—I feel like it should be—but Kyol’s face remains expressionless, even when he eventually looks at me. “Will you come?”
It’s a question I was rarely asked when King Atroth was alive. The fae always assumed I would drop everything and help them, and most of the time, I did. My own fault. I should have stood my ground more often, made more time for myself.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I tell him. Jenkins doesn’t need my driver’s license and Social Security card until 5 P.M. on Friday, two days from now. I have more than enough time to help Kyol and get back to Vegas, and I want to help him.
I turn to Naito. “You’ll have to cover my watch.”
He doesn’t glance up.
“Naito,” I say again, sharper this time. I see his jaw clench once, twice. Then, when I think he’s going to ignore me indefinitely, he finally says, “Fine.”
I’ll have to trust he’ll follow through on that because Kyol’s already heading for the door. I was avoiding Kyol these past two weeks only because I didn’t want to hurt him, but it doesn’t look like being near me fazes him at all. Maybe I’m a fool to think he still wants me. Maybe he’s completely over me.
I follow him out the door, breaking into a jog when my legs can’t keep up at a walk. Usually, Kyol would slow down for me, but when we exit the archives, he increases his pace.
“We might lose him if we don’t move quickly.”
The urgency makes my stomach tighten. The last time I shadow-read with him was two weeks ago in Montana. It didn’t go well. A lot of fae died securing the Sidhe Tol and fissuring into the Silver Palace. They’ve been dying ever since, and while I want to believe we’ve made it through the bloodiest days of this war, my gut tells me we haven’t. More lives will be lost before the high nobles accept Lena as queen.
FIVE
KYOL ISN’T THE fae who fissures me out of Corrist. He hands me a cloak, a sketchbook, and an imprinted anchor-stone, then lets Taber, his second-in-command, take me through the slash of white light. As soon as the gated-fissure fades away, I release Taber’s arm, trying to ignore the heat swirling in my palm. He doesn’t look bothered by our contact. I’m sure he is, though. The majority of the Realm’s citizens believe humans and human tech damage their magic. Chances are none of the three fae with me now want to get too close to me; they’re just too professional to show it.