The Shattered Dark (41 page)

The remnants are attacking the wall from both sides now. They’re trying to chop down
the beams of the scaffold that’s holding it up. Kyol and a dozen other rebels are
trying to fight them off.

I tighten my fist around the hilt of my sword and press my back against the palace,
scanning the strip of land for Lena or Trev or some way to help.

My gaze goes back to the scaffolding. It’s shaking and teetering, just barely holding
out. Is there a way I can help there?

I push away from the wall, moving toward it, thinking I might be able to draw some
fae away from it, when something in my peripheral vision catches my attention. A remnant
stands far off to my right, focusing on the fight at the scaffold, too. He’s gathering
a ball of fire in his hand.

Dread traps my air in my lungs. He’s going to throw it at the scaffold. The scaffold
won’t hold up. It’ll fall. It’ll crush Kyol and the other rebels and open up a huge
gap in the wall. The remnants will be able to pour in.

“Kyol!” I scream, but even if he could hear me, he can’t fissure. He wouldn’t make
it to the remnant in time.

The fire in the fae’s hand turns blue.

My decision is already made. I’m already running, sprinting away from the palace.
I have to get there in time. If I don’t, Kyol is dead, half the rebels and remnants
out here are dead, and the eastern wall will be in ruins.

I’m running as fast as I ever have before, but I won’t reach the fae. I can only do
one thing. If I fail, we’re all dead. If I succeed…

I promised Aren I’d be careful. This isn’t careful. I’m going to die doing this.

The ball of flame leaves the fae’s hand, but I make it in time, leaping between it
and the scaffolding.

There’s a
whoosh
when the magic-wrapped flames slam into my right shoulder.

Shock stabs through me as I’m flying through the air. I expected the flames to be
intangible; I didn’t expect them to be as solid as a cannonball. My back hits the
edge of the scaffold and something in my chest—a rib or my collarbone—snaps. I don’t
feel the pain of the fire until after my vision turns orange and red. Then some part
of my mind notes that my skin is burning. My hair, my clothes, my shoelaces…they’re
all aflame.

Another part of my mind notes that I’ve hit a beam supporting the right edge of the
scaffold. And a third part of my mind—the tiny, naïve part that believes I have a
chance to survive this—chants,
Stop, drop, roll. Stop, drop, roll.

I stop, drop, and roll to my back. There’s a loud
crack
above me and a trembling in the wall. A section of it shakes
loose. I see the stone blocks falling toward me just before my vision goes black.

I
should be dead. I
want
to be dead. My leg is broken, my knee pulled up near my chest at a sickening angle.

“Sidhe, no. No!”

I can’t move.

“McKenzie.” Kyol drops down beside me. “
Sidhe
, don’t move.”

He says my name again as he scans me, head to toe. His hand reaches out like he wants
to touch me, but he doesn’t. I’m grateful. My skin hurts. Everything hurts.

“Find Lena!”
he barks in Fae.

I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrate on drawing air into my lungs. It’s a difficult
thing to do with my throat closing up like this, but Kyol is trying to reassure me.
He’s trying to make sure I’m not afraid.

“You’re going to be okay,” he says. He’s wrong. I can’t survive this.

I concentrate and manage to lift my right hand. He sees it. Ignoring the blisters,
he intertwines his fingers with mine, and suddenly, there’s so much I want to say.
So much I want to tell him. I want him to know that I don’t regret the ten years I
spent with him. I don’t regret shadow-reading for him. I don’t regret losing my family,
my friends, my human life for him. I don’t regret loving him.

I need him to know all of this, but more important than all of that is the one thing
I do regret: leaving Aren. I wanted to have so much more time with him.

“Tell him, please.” My lips hurt when I speak. They feel dry, cracked. Burned.

Kyol leans closer. I swallow, trying to work moisture into my mouth.

“Tell him…” Desperate to make him understand, I tighten my grip on his hand until
he bends even lower. “I’m sorry I wasn’t careful and—”

Kyol releases my hand. “No.”

No?

“Please, Kyol.”

“No,” he thunders. “I won’t let you die. You’re
not
dying.”

There’s so much pain in his voice. I hate it. I hate hurting him. I hate how much
I’m going to hurt Aren.

“Aren,” I whisper.

“You’re going to be okay,
kaesha
.”

“Kaesha,”
I murmur.

SUDDENLY
, the pain increases tenfold. I gasp, arching my back off the ground. I can’t touch
it anymore, can’t touch anything.

I cry out again, draw in one deep breath after another after another until…I relax,
my breathing slows, and I’m okay.

I’m okay. I know it’s shock. My mind isn’t able to process the pain. It’s shutting
down. I’m grateful for the reprieve, grateful that I can say to Kyol, “Let me go.”

He shakes his head. Tears streak down his face. I’ve never seen him cry before.

I’ll never see him cry again.

“It’s okay. I don’t hurt anymore. I’m not afraid.”

“I can’t, McKenzie. I can’t.” His voice cracks. “I love you.
Sidhe
, I know I have no right to tell you this, but I do. I always will.”

I try to tell him I understand, but all that comes out is an incoherent mumble. I
close my eyes.

“CAN
you hear me? Say…” Something. Kyol wants me to say something. I’m too weak, too cold
to do anything more than murmur a few syllables, but that’s not enough for him. He
demands me to keep talking. I try. I try until I feel my heart lurch and then…

I
T’S DARK. EONS
pass.

MY
heart is beating, but I feel wrong. Overfull. I’m distantly aware of someone above
me. He’s talking, demanding some kind of response from me.

Aren?

He wants me to open my eyes. He says my name over and over and over again.

“MCKENZIE.”
A different voice shatters the dark.
Kyol’s
voice. I try to murmur his name, but my lips won’t move.

“Open your eyes, McKenzie.” His order is wrapped in fear and hope. They’re such odd,
conflicting emotions. I need to see his face. Need to see his eyes, his mouth. I need
to see him.

I concentrate, pour all of my strength and willpower into the monumental task of opening
my eyes.

It works. I see the blur of a ceiling high above me, a hazy silhouette nearer, leaning
over me.

I blink until Aren’s worried face comes into focus.

“Thank the
Sidhe
,” he whispers. Then his lips are on mine. My mouth tingles, and chaos lusters spark
between us as we
kiss. I remember his touch, his taste, his scent, but I’m distracted. Something is
off. I can’t concentrate on Aren because Kyol is hurting. Was he crushed under the
wall as well?

My chest is tight. I feel panicky. I need…I need…

“I’m here, McKenzie.”

I turn my head, and he is there, crouched just behind me. We’re in the small room
hidden in the wall behind Lena’s throne. The last time I was here, Atroth was still
king. I was still on their side of the war.

I roll to my stomach so I can see him better. A mistake. Pain stabs through me.

“McKenzie,” Aren says, his voice alarmed. “Don’t move.”

I don’t think I’m completely healed, but I have to know what’s wrong with Kyol. He’s
hurting more, now. I can see it on his face.

I try to push up. Aren’s hands are on my shoulders, keeping me still. I ignore him,
still struggling to rise until Kyol places his hand over mine.

“Rest.”

That one, simple word makes me relax. I can’t hold my weight up anyway. I let Aren
settle me back down. He carefully places me on my back again. Everything hurts. My
bones, my joints, my skin. Black spots blur my vision. I need to sleep.

I think I actually do. When I open my eyes this time, I feel more settled. I can focus
on Aren.

“The fight?” I ask. The fact that someone brought me to this hidden room and not my
bedroom might mean it’s still going on.

“Most of the wall held. The new
Sidhe Tol
is protected.”

I breathe a little easier. Something went right today.

“You look awful,” I tell Aren. And he does. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face looks
pale except for a smear of red on his cheek.

“With your injuries…” Aren’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how you survived long enough
for me to reach you.”

“You healed me?” I feel the question wrinkle my forehead. He was somewhere in my world,
fighting at a
Sidhe Tol
. Lena should have been easier to find. “Is Lena okay?”

“I fissured directly to the
veligh
after we secured the
Sidhe Tol
. If I hadn’t…” He swallows, re-collects himself. “Lena’s fine. She’ll be here soon.”
His touch is gentle as he brushes my hair back from my face. It’s as if he’s afraid
he’ll break me. He doesn’t know how I survived. I don’t either. When I blocked the
flame, I knew I was going to die. I remember it hitting me, remember burning.

I remember Kyol.

I start to crane my head so I can see him, but he comes to my side, sparing me the
effort. I analyze his face. He’s wearing a perfectly impenetrable mask. There’s no
tension in his mouth or at the corners of his eyes. Something isn’t right, though.
I’d swear he’s…anguished?

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

Kyol doesn’t answer. That’s weird. I mean, even if something’s wrong, and he doesn’t
want to tell me, he’d say he was fine. Why doesn’t he tell me he’s fine?

“He’s okay, McKenzie,” Aren says. He touches my forehead. I feel his magic—I think
he’s trying to heal the headache growing behind my eyes—but I push away his hand and
sit up.

That’s definitely a mistake. Aren brought me back from the brink of death, but I am
not
well. A prickling sensation moves through my hands and feet, like they’ve fallen
asleep and are just now waking up, and my muscles protest. I squeeze my eyes shut
and lean forward, fairly certain I’m going to vomit.

“Lena,”
I hear Aren say.
“She’s hurting, and I’m spent. Please.”

She says something back to him in Fae, but she’s speaking too softly for me to make
out the words.

Then, she’s at my side. “Lie down.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to lie back down. If I do, I might never get up again.

“Lie down,” she says, and this time, she puts her hand on my chest.

I’m not strong enough to fight her. I fall to my back.

She finishes the work Aren started, mending bones, reattaching muscles and tendons,
repairing my skin. It hurts,
but I don’t make a sound. I’m not sure if I have the energy to cry out anymore.

I must fade off again. When I wake this time, I feel better. Tired, but better.

Lena is still kneeling beside me.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” I say. My voice is stronger now.

“I’m glad you are as well,” she says. I actually think she means it.

She moves aside, letting Aren take her place. He intertwines his fingers with mine,
and I feel him tremble. Just for a second, and it’s not due to my
edarratae
. Jesus, he’s close to burnout because of me, and I’ve been focused on Kyol this whole
time. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He smiles. Then he bends down to kiss me.

It’s only when our lips meet this time that I truly believe I’m going to live. He
grounds me to this world, and I pull him more tightly to me. I make sure he knows
I want him. I love him. Then, I’m suddenly aware that there are others watching us.

Kyol’s watching us.

I pull back. Aren’s eyebrows dip in concern. “What is it?”

“It’s…Kyol.”

There’s no hurt or anger in Aren’s expression now, just worry. Simultaneously, our
heads turn to look at Lena’s lord general.

And that’s when his composure cracks. His shoulders slump and the silver in his eyes
darkens with…pain? Why is he hurting so much?

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t let her die. It was the only thing I could try.”

Beside me, Aren stiffens.

“What did you try?” Lena asks.

Kyol looks at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much fear in his eyes.

“It shouldn’t have worked,” he says.

“What did you do, Taltrayn?” Her words are soft, almost consoling, as if she can ease
the confession from his lips.

His gaze returns to Aren.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

There’s murder in Aren’s eyes, in the way he draws in a slow breath, lets it out as
he rises.

“You should leave, Taltrayn,” Lena says, her voice still cool, still calm.