“Is he still here?” Kyol asks in Fae, climbing onto the rooftop behind me. Taber and the other two fae remain on the ground below.
The swordsman lying on his stomach nods. His brown hair is cut short enough to see a black cord hanging around his neck. “Yes, lord general,” he says. “He and three others.”
Lord general. The title puts a bad taste in my mouth. I’m not used to Kyol being called that. I don’t think he fits the role. The previous fae who held that position was overbearing, arrogant, and in the end, cruel. Kyol isn’t any of those things.
To me, Kyol says, “The house is protected by silver. Jielan will most likely fissure as soon as he exits, but if he doesn’t, you’ll need to be ready to move.”
“There isn’t a back way out?”
“There is,” he answers, “but he doesn’t know we’re here. He has no reason to exit the other way.”
Staying low, I inch forward until I’m at the edge of the roof. Kyol does the same.
“Where are we?” I ask, moving the buckle of the belt Aren fastened around me so it’s not so uncomfortable to lie on. That moves the sheathed dagger a little more to the left on my back, but I can still reach it fairly easily.
“Spier,” Kyol says.
I stare at him without saying a word. Each of the Realm’s provinces has a capital city with a gate, but Spier is nowhere near any of them. And unless there’s a Missing Gate—a gate not on the public maps—that I don’t know about, the nearest place for me to safely fissure is half a day’s walk from here.
“I needed a shadow-reader,” Kyol says without looking at me. Usually, his tone would be apologetic—he always hated keeping me away from my human life—but it’s firm now, just as it should be. I never needed to be coddled, and as frustrating as it is to be stranded so far away from a gate, it’s good that I’m here. Jielan could lead us to the other remnants. He could lead us to Paige.
I open the notebook on the roof in front of me, taking the pencil out of the spine so that I’ll be completely ready when Jielan comes out. The quicker I sketch his shadows, the more accurate my map will be. I just hope we don’t have to kill him.
“There he is,” Kyol says sharply.
My gaze snaps to the front door. Jielan’s there, stepping outside without so much as a glance at his surroundings. He immediately disappears into a fissure. The light winks out, leaving behind a twist of shadows.
My hand is already dragging my pencil across the sketchbook, dipping into a shallow valley near the continent’s southern coast. Jielan’s stayed in the Realm. He’s even still in Cadek Province, most likely. I scratch down a few more broad strokes—an ocean to the east, a fairly dense forest to the northeast—then flip the page as my mind zooms in on his location. A part of my brain registers that the other three fae who were inside the house have exited as well, but they don’t obscure the shadows. I keep my pencil moving, and within seconds, I identify a dark swirl to the west of a river. It cuts through a village that…
No, wait. It’s not a river. It’s a street. It’s the street.
“Watch out!” I shout, pushing up off the rooftop and spinning toward the ladder. My warning comes too late. One of the swordsmen waiting below lets out a bellow and the sound of clashing swords rings through the air.
“Stay with her!” Kyol orders, already moving. The fae wearing the black necklace takes up position at my side, sword drawn. I know Kyol wants me to stay up here, to stay safe, but as he disappears over the side of the roof, I grab my sketchbook and scramble to the ladder. Jielan might fissure away. If he does, I need to map his shadows.
I peer over the building’s edge just as Taber deflects a hard swing from Jielan, then counters with an attack of his own. Both their swords move impossibly fast, diving and slicing and stabbing through the air. Taber retreats a step, stumbling. He doesn’t look injured, but I’m certain I see red on Jielan’s blade. I don’t know if it’s from Brayan, who’s scrambling back to his feet, or from—
I spot a wisp of white shadow. Yes, the blood must be from the other fae. He’s nowhere to be seen now because he’s dead. Jielan killed him. All that’s left to mark his existence in this world is his soul-shadow, and even that disappears when Taber lunges through it, his blade narrowly missing Jielan’s shoulder.
Then Kyol’s there, leaping off the ladder and drawing his sword. Jielan sees him. He has to know he’s outmatched and outnumbered, but when he fissures, he doesn’t leave the fight. He emerges from the In-Between only a few feet away from where he disappeared. It’s the perfect position to snake his arm around the neck of a still-unbalanced Brayan. Jielan pivots, pressing his back against the wall and using Brayan as a shield.
“Taltrayn.” Jielan uses Kyol’s family name, not sounding surprised or concerned.
Kyol advances slowly now, moving away from the ladder in deliberate, measured steps. “You’ll lose this fight,” he says, stopping several paces away from Jielan.
Taber holds his position to Kyol’s left, waiting for his commander’s order. Kyol and his swordsmen are the most disciplined soldiers in the Realm. They’re all duty and sacrifice, and even though I can’t see Brayan’s face from my rooftop position, I’m sure it’s as unreadable as the others’. He’ll accept whatever action Kyol takes, even if it leads to his death.
But Kyol has never been one to needlessly sacrifice his men, not if there’s another way to achieve his goal.
“Release him, Jielan,” he orders. “We don’t have to be on opposite sides of this war.”
Jielan lets out a sharp laugh.
“The daughter of Zarrak does not belong on the throne,” he says. “She and her fae should be banished from the Realm, but you’re supporting her. You’re supporting her despite her refusal to turn…”
I don’t understand the last part. It’s something about a king or a Descendant, but the conjugation doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s clear Jielan is firmly against Lena and anyone who supports her.
“The high nobles choose who sits on the silver throne,” Kyol says. “Not you or I. Drop your sword.”
“Nobles can be bought and blackmailed. No, lord general.” He makes the title sound like a slur. “You’ve chosen your side. It’s the wrong one.”
The air erupts with a staccato of shrrip, shrrip, shrrips as three fissures flash into existence. The three other fae who were in the house step out of the slashes of light.
I realize this is a trap at the same moment Kyol grates out, “Taber!”
He doesn’t have to say more than that—it’s clear he’s ordering Taber to go for help—but before the fae can open a fissure, Jielan says, “Brayan dies if he leaves. So does the shadow-witch.”
The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. I start to turn, but a sword presses into my back. It’s the fae wearing the black necklace.
I close my eyes in a silent grimace. It had to happen eventually. Aren argued against allowing any former Court fae to remain in the palace, even if they swore fealty to Lena, but Kyol vouched for them. He trained them and trusted them, and he said that they would protect her with their lives. He was wrong.
The scabbard belted around my waist moves when the fae behind me confiscates my dagger.
“Down,” he orders. Even if I couldn’t understand his language, his meaning would be clear. I grip the part of the ladder that attaches to the roof, then start down before the traitor decides to draw blood. My mind works furiously on the descent. The fae doesn’t have his sword on me now—he can’t because he’s following me down—so I’m safe for a very limited amount of time. We’re outnumbered, though, and I’m human and I’m unarmed.
I’m three rungs from the ground when I decide I have to act. I leap off and to the left, landing on Jielan’s shoulder. He snarls as he swings his fist, not his sword around, aiming for me. It’s a mistake. His blade is no longer against Brayan’s neck. I let go of Jielan when Brayan grabs his wrist and flips the remnant over his shoulder. Then, almost in synch, every other fae vanishes into fissures.