The Shattered Dark (40 page)

“Kyol swore Atroth never gave the vigilantes my name,” I tell them. “Maybe he was
right. Atroth didn’t give them my name. But somebody else did. It’s the same person
who arranged for Paige and me both to be in London and to suspect the other side of
slaughtering the Sighted humans. That someone is pulling our strings, making us kill
each other. Weaken each other.”

“So they can step in and take the palace,” Aren says.

“Or maybe it’s just someone who wants the war to continue. He profits from it. He’s
even entertained by it. I think it’s Lorn.”

That statement is greeted with a long silence. I stare at my glass of
cabus
again. I don’t want to believe it’s Lorn. I want to believe he’s a good person beneath
his selfish exterior, but he hasn’t been helping us since we took the palace. I could
be misjudging him. After all, I misjudged Kavok.

“He lost Kelia in this war,” Lena says, breaking the silence. “They had a life-bond.”

“Lorn paid fae to protect her,” Aren says. “She
should
have been safe.”

“He wanted to sever the life-bond.” Naito’s voice is as cold and quiet as ice. He’s
as still as ice, too, and his gaze
never wavers from the center of the table. I hate seeing him hurt.

“Lorn gave you an anonymous tip so that you’d find me in Nashville. That’s how he
works. Was the handwriting on any of the letters you received the same?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “They came months apart.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. I let my gaze sweep the hall, hoping I’ll be
struck by inspiration, an idea to prove conclusively that Lorn is manipulating things
behind the scenes, but the mirrors don’t offer any answers.

“I tracked Aylen to Eksan,” I murmur, mostly to myself. She was an “associate of an
associate” according to Lorn. Maybe it’s more than a coincidence that she fissured
to the same city Tylan was captured in.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Lena says.

“I know.” I let out a sigh and focus on the fae entering the room. He doesn’t announce
his presence. I don’t find that odd until he’s walking down the length of the table.
My brow furrows when he’s two chairs away from Naito, three away from Lena. Neither
Lena nor Aren acknowledges the other fae’s presence, and Naito is still staring at
the table.

The problem doesn’t click into place until he draws his sword.

“L
ENA, MOVE!”

My shout startles everyone into motion, and that’s the only reason she survives. Naito’s
chair flies back, barely missing the remnant. The fae pauses long enough for Lena
to draw her sword. She swings blindly, completely missing him, but Naito’s grabbed
ahold of his overturned chair.

He swings it as Lena backpedals, as Aren leaps over the table, and as I grab the unopened
bottle sitting on the silver platter.

But I don’t have to use my makeshift weapon. Aren knows where the remnant is the second
Naito swings the chair into him. Aren slides off the table, his sword stabbing forward.

The remnant’s
jaedric
cuirass stops the attack. He faces Aren, but Lena steps left, then plunges her blade
into his side. He cries out, falls to his knees, but he’s still alive. Still breathing.

“How did you get in here?”
Lena demands, withdrawing her sword. The remnant’s hand goes to his side, but he
can’t stop the river of blood from flowing between his fingers. He shakes his head
as he gasps for air.

Lena’s sword point reenters the fae’s wound, and he screams.

The room tilts, and I’m suddenly nauseous. Lena asks him
again how he got in here and what the remnants’ plan is, then there’s a shout from
just outside the Mirrored Hall. Something breaks.

I sprint to the hall’s open doors, step out onto the balcony that overlooks the huge
antechamber below.

My breath catches in my throat. Blood spills over the smooth, polished marble floor.
The remnants are everywhere. I don’t know how. We’re inside the Silver Palace, which
is inside Corrist’s silver walls. The only way for fae to fissure here is via a
Sidhe Tol
, but Lena has guards on all of them. It should be impossible for this many remnants
to make it here at once.

Unless, of course, the remnants have retaken one of the
Sidhe Tol
.

As I back away from the railing, my gaze sweeps past the open doors to the king’s
hall on the floor below. Kyol’s there. Remnants see him, too. They attack…

And he kills them as if they’re afterthoughts. He’s preoccupied, searching for…

He’s searching for Lena,
I realize.

“Kyol!”

I don’t know how he hears me over the sounds of the battle, but he looks up. His eyes
lock on me for two, maybe three seconds, then he’s running, sprinting for the stairs
that will bring him to me.

“Lena’s in here,” I say, when he reaches me. I expect him to immediately enter the
Mirrored Hall. Instead, he cups the back of my head and pulls me against his chest.

His embrace is tight, and I swear I feel a shudder go through his body when he lays
his head against mine. God, the news of my supposed death must have rattled him. He
shouldn’t be holding me like this—he should be rushing to protect Lena—but I lean
into him, giving him a few seconds before I move back so that I can peer up into his
face.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, though I’m not sure why. It’s not like I wanted to be captured
by the remnants. But I definitely didn’t want to hurt him either.

I feel his chest rise as he draws in a breath, then he lets me go. Whatever he thought
or felt when he pulled me into his arms doesn’t
show on his face. His expression is as hard and unreadable as a stone’s.

After one quick glance at the fight below, he motions me inside the Mirrored Hall.

“Why are you here?” Kyol’s voice rings out as we stride toward Lena. The remnant she
was interrogating is gone. Into the ether, I presume.

“Privacy,” she bites back.

He takes her arm when he reaches her side, starts pulling her toward the gap in the
wall the servant entered and exited through earlier. “If you’d been in the king’s
hall or your quarters, you could have escaped by now.”

“Escape?” She jerks free. “I’m not leaving the palace.”

“You are.”

“If I leave, I lose everything,” she says, her tone scathing. Then, when Kyol reaches
for her again, she adds, “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

I think she might mean that.

“If you die,” he counters, “the rebellion loses everything.”

Her nostrils flare. She tightens her right hand around the hilt of her sword, then,
her gaze steely, she lifts her left. In it, she’s holding an anchor-stone. It’s jagged
and an opalescent smoky gray.

“A remnant had this,” she says. “It will lead to a
Sidhe Tol
. A new
Sidhe Tol
.”

“They found another?” I ask, alarmed. King Atroth knew the locations of only three
of the Ancestors’ Gates. Those gates allow fae to fissure into areas protected by
silver. They’re located in my world, and I know Atroth had fae constantly searching
for others, but what are the chances that they found one
now
?

“We need to secure the
Sidhe Tol
,” she says. The words are an order, and her rigid tone and regal posture say she
expects it to be carried out, and quickly. She sounds very much like the daughter
of a high noble, and it’s apparently a queenly enough tone that Kyol doesn’t argue.

His gaze remains on Lena. “Naito will go to the
Sidhe Tol
with Jorreb.” His jaw clenches. “You’ll stay with Lena, McKenzie. Make sure an illusionist
doesn’t assassinate her.”

With that, Kyol turns and exits the hall.

“Looks like we have our orders,” Aren mutters. He doesn’t leave immediately, though.
He turns me toward him, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me before I’m able to focus
on his face. I feel more in his kiss than I’d ever see in his expression: affection,
desire, and respect. Fear.

“Remember,” he whispers, pulling back slightly. “Be careful. Please. I can’t lose
you again.”

Naito goes with him, leaving me alone with Lena. She waits all of five seconds before
she uses her foot to scoop up the dead remnant’s sword. She catches its hilt in the
air, then hands it to me with a terse, “Follow me.”

I stare down at the sword. It’s a long, slender weapon that looks elegant and light
but is lethal and heavy. The blade is slightly longer than my arm, and the
jaedric
-wrapped hilt is grooved from the remnant’s fingers. My hand is smaller than his,
so the grip is awkward.

“Lena, we shouldn’t—”

She’s almost to the doors of the Mirrored Hall.

“Lena, wait!”

I manage to catch her arm before she steps onto the balcony. “You can’t leave this
room.”

Cold silver eyes rise to meet mine. “You would rather me let people die than go out
there and heal them?”

“They’re fighting for you. I’d rather you stay alive, so it’s not in vain.”

“I’m not staying here, McKenzie.” She shakes loose.

I blow out a breath and follow her.

She must have forgotten I’m human because I can’t catch up, not until she stops at
the top of the staircase, looking down at the battle below. Her face hardens. I think
I know why: she’s not used to seeing so many fae injured in the middle of a fight.
They usually fissure out if they’re hurt badly enough. They can’t do that here. Her
people are hurt. Without her help, they’re going to lie there and die.

“Lena,” Trev says, climbing the steps.

Lena descends the stairs, passing Trev without a word. His gaze locks onto my sword,
and I swear to God I see his eyes widen.

Great, I look as ridiculous as I feel carrying this thing.

“Stay with us,” I order as I go down the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up
with Lena.

She kills a remnant before the fae is able to slam his sword into the rebel lying
injured on the floor. His soul-shadow replaces his body. Lena passes through it, kneels
by the rebel’s side, and places her hands on his mangled leg.

Another fae approaches. Before I have to make a decision on whether I’m actually going
to have to try to fight him, Trev engages him.

Thank God.

I turn back to Lena, but she’s already moved on. Damn it. Kyol should have ordered
her
to stay with
me
. I can’t keep up, and I really, really don’t want to move farther into the fight.

I draw in a breath, start to move her way, when a cry to my left catches my attention.

It’s Jacia. She falls back, barely deflecting a remnant’s attack. The remnant’s back
is to me, and he swings at her again, then again and again, relentless in his attack.
Jacia is barely holding him off.

And his back is still to me.

She’ll die if I don’t help her.

I pull back my sword as I step left, giving myself a straight shot at the remnant’s
side, where the bindings holding his cuirass together are tied. Putting all my weight
behind me, I thrust my sword forward.

Only a few inches of the blade slide in, but those few inches hurt. The fae turns,
screaming. He starts to lift his sword to attack me, but Jacia takes advantage of
the distraction I caused. She swings her blade at the remnant’s neck. It slides cleanly
all the way through. Blood arcs through the air as the head and body fall.

Jacia nods her thanks.

A nod of thanks for helping her kill someone else.

I clench my teeth together, turn, but I’ve lost sight of Lena and Trev.

“Shit,” I mutter. I have to find her. The illusionist in the Mirrored Hall was there
because he was looking for her, and
the remnants have other illusionists—Tylan is one. He might try to assassinate her.

Thinking about Tylan makes me think about Paige. Is she here? Is Lee? No other humans
are in this antechamber, just remnants and rebels absorbed in destroying each other.
Maybe Paige has gone back to Earth already.

My heartbeat thunders in my chest as I make my way to the wall, then follow it around
until I reach a corridor that leads toward the eastern wing of the palace and the
veligh
, the waterfront. That’s where we’re the most vulnerable, so that might be where Lena’s
heading.

I keep my sword held ready, but try my best to make myself look small and uninteresting.
I’m lucky. There are more rebels in this corridor than remnants. I’m able to make
it all the way outside the palace without having to defend myself.

Things are worse than I thought they would be out here. It looks like the remnants
had two goals when they fissured in: to assassinate Lena and to break through this
portion of the silver wall.

Approximately a hundred feet lies between the palace and the wall. The silver plating
is bent and cracked around a gaping hole. The interior of the wall, made up of stone
blocks and wooden stairs and balconies for the guards to stand watch on, is clearly
visible straight ahead. It was only a few days ago that the remnants almost broke
through there. They lit fires at the wall’s base while they pummeled it with rocks
and boulders, some thrown by hand, others launched by magic. The rebels fought them
off, but there hasn’t been time to repair the damage.