The Sharpest Blade
Page 62

“McKenzie!” Aren suddenly pops out of the window. I slip a few inches.
“Aren,” I grind out.
His eyes lock on me and he laughs. The bastard actually laughs.
“Sidhe, I love you.” He reaches down, grabs my arm, and pulls me up as if I don’t weigh 130 pounds. But my next protest dies on my lips when he crushes them beneath his. He, quite literally, kisses my breath away. That’s not completely due to his skills, though the way he pulls my lower lip between his teeth does send a bolt of lightning through me, but I just climbed my way up the side of the palace. I need a second to catch my—
Aren’s tongue brushes against mine, and anything else I might need vanishes from my mind.
“Jorreb!” Hison barks.
With a grin, Aren peels himself away from me. I frown past him, taking in the high noble, his guards, and the fact that the main desk is in front of the reception room door again. A fae is there, one hand on the desktop and one on the door, magically holding it shut, I presume.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Your oath,” Aren says to Hison. “Now. Or I cut the rope and trap us all here.”
“You have it, tchatalun-min!” He hisses what I’m sure is an unflattering term.
“Aren?”
He faces me fully and takes both of my hands in his. “We have a chance, McKenzie. If we survive this, we have a chance.”
He gives me another brief but powerful kiss, then he accepts the sword Lord Hison hands him.
“Go,” Aren orders, and Hison is the first out the window.
“What the hell is happening?” I demand, the knots in my stomach twisting and untwisting. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified or both.
“The false-blood is here,” he says. “He’s invaded the palace, fissured into the King’s Hall with a dozen men. Lena wasn’t there. She’d be dead if she was.”
“I’m letting it go,” Hison’s last fae says from the door. He must be the one who used his magic to blast it open, too. He’s keeping it shut now despite the fae ramming it from the other side.
Aren nods, acknowledging his words without taking his gaze away from me. “I have to find Lena. I want you to go with Hison, make sure no illusionists get close to him.”
“Go with Hison?” My mind reels. A minute ago, Aren tossed me away because he was set on sacrificing himself. He expected me to accept his decision and move on, and now, he wants to make another decision for me? He wants me to, again, leave him here to die?
“It’ll be safer for you,” he says, as Hison’s last fae runs past us. “You know what the false-blood and his elari will do if they catch you.”
“God, Aren, you . . .” I snap my jaw shut as the door cracks and splinters, then I hurry to the nearest unconscious fae and confiscate her sword and dagger. “I’m staying with you. I care more about Lena than I do about saving Hison’s ass.”
And I’m furious enough to kill anyone in my path.
“I thought you’d say that.” Aren gives me a small smile.
The elari shove the desk aside and rush in. There are two of them. They go directly for Aren. He blocks and sidesteps the first fae’s swing, pivoting around him to engage the second one, too. The first turns his back on me to attack Aren, giving me time and opportunity to swing my sword in a wide arc.
The blade cleaves deep into his side. His knees buckle, and his body makes a wet, sucking sound as I yank my sword free.
Aren spins toward me. He’s already dispatched the second fae—I see his soul-shadow dissipating into nothing—and he lifts his sword to strike the one I injured, the one who’s dropped to all fours.
Aren finishes the job I started, and I watch the fae’s body disappear. I refuse to feel remorse. I refuse to feel nausea. I refuse to feel . . .
Oh, God. “Kyol.”
I don’t feel anything, not even his mental wall, because I had him drugged. He’s lying unconscious and defenseless in his room.
“McKenzie, don’t,” Aren says, but I’m already running for the door. He grabs my arm before I make it to the hall.
“McKenzie,” he says, turning me toward him. His eyes are worried but determined. “I have to find Lena.”
“I . . .” I want to scream. Lena’s more important than Kyol. In my head, I know that. In my heart . . . Kyol’s a part of my history, but he’s also a part of me. How can I abandon him?
“God.” I press the heel of my free hand against my temple. I’m so sick of having no choices.
“Okay,” I say, hating myself. “Okay. We’ll find Lena.” And maybe Kyol will be safer in his room.
Aren lets out a breath, then he steps into the hallway. It’s not empty. Lena’s fae are at both ends, fighting off the false-blood’s people. If Aren and I join the fight, we’ll even out the numbers, but I’m not anxious to go blade to blade with the elari.
“It sure would be nice if I had my tranq gun,” I mutter.
Aren, who decided it would be a great idea to throw my backpack out the window, gives me an apologetic smile. “Didn’t think we’d need it. Anyone heading our way?”
I focus on the elari again. One of them has crept past the swinging blades.
“Left wall, ten paces,” I tell Aren, shutting out everything to do my job. He continues forward so casually I’m not sure he heard me, but just when I’m about to shout a warning, he surges forward, closing the distance between him and the fae.
The elari intercepts Aren’s attack with ease, but he’s visible now.
And now, he’s dead.
“Beside me, McKenzie,” Aren says. I run to catch up with him, and he takes me into the servants’ corridor. The same corridor I hid in earlier and where I—
“Lorn?” Aren says before I can warn him. He crouches beside the fae, who’s sitting up. The antidote neutralized the tranquilizer quicker than I thought it would. “What happened?”
“He tried to stop me,” I say before Lorn can answer. I fully expect to get an earful anyway, but Lorn accepts the help Aren offers him, and they both rise.
A scream rings out from the main hallway. Lorn frowns in that direction.
“What’s happening?” he asks.
“The elari,” Aren says. “They’ve invaded.”
Lorn’s eyes widen. He’s definitely not himself yet, though. His pupils are unnaturally large.
“Lena,” he says, swaying. “Is she okay?”
“We don’t know. We’re looking for her.” Aren’s head whips left as a second scream erupts from farther down our narrow corridor. “McKenzie?”
I move past him, my gaze searching the darkness. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Can you walk?” Aren asks Lorn.
“Barely,” he says acidly, looking at me. I hold his gaze for half a second before I start down the corridor.
“If you could watch our backs,” Aren says, “I’d appreciate it.”
“Lena should be in the Mirrored Hall,” I tell Aren when he catches up with me.
“Yes,” he answers, though I wasn’t asking a question. The Mirrored Hall was where Lena met with the high nobles. If she’s still there or has fled this way, we should come across her. If we don’t . . . If we don’t, it won’t be a good sign.