The Shattered Dark

His gaze drops suddenly, following the path of a chaos luster down my neck, I presume, then he frowns down at the rip in my jeans. My knee is scratched up and sore from stumbling into the parking lot in Nashville, but it hurts less than the bruise on my thigh that I got when Shane hit me with a car. Neither is serious enough to need healing. Aren must realize that, but he closes the distance between us as if I’m two seconds away from dying.

“Sidhe, Trev. She can’t keep warm,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders.

His warm hands. I step closer, breathe in his cedar and cinnamon scent, then shiver when his touch sparks through me. I’m sure he feels the lightning, too, but he’s still glaring at Trev.

“Are you trying to make her sick?”

“I forgot—”

“That she’s human?” Aren cuts him off.

Trev opens his mouth to say something else, but swallows his words when he focuses behind me and Aren.

“Lord Hison,” Trev says instead, with a shallow dip of his head.

Lord Hison, elder of Dice and high noble of Jutur Province, stands only a few feet away. His midnight blue cloak is embroidered with gold leaves. It looks warm and heavy, a sharp contrast to his silver eyes, which are cold and so light they almost look white. That’s the snow reflected in them, I think.

Aren’s tense. He moves back slightly, and I see the battle he’s fighting with himself. He doesn’t want to keep his distance from me, but like Lord Kaeth, we need Hison to vote Lena to the throne. I’ve met the high noble a few times before. He barely tolerates the presence of humans in the Realm. He definitely wouldn’t approve of Aren’s relationship with me.

I make the decision for Aren, taking a long step back. A brief wince appears on his face before the stiffness leaves his posture, and he turns.

“Lord Hison,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to follow.”

Hison is focused on me. Normally, I’d avert my gaze. I don’t this time. I’m in his world trying to end the war that has spilled so much blood these last few years. I’m helping him and his people. He’s going to have to accept that I’m here.

“Be careful with that,” Hison says, his gaze still on me. “Rumor is she seduced Taltrayn. She may try to do the same to you. Atroth should have discarded her years ago.”

The only reason I don’t react is because he doesn’t know I understand Fae, and I want to keep it that way.

“She is bewitching, isn’t she,” Aren says smoothly. “I’d caution you against touching her.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, too.

Hison stiffens.

“The nalkin-shom needs to be inside,” Aren continues, before the high noble decides to take offense at his words. “Humans are susceptible to the elements.”

Fae are susceptible to some extent, too—they can’t use their magic to keep warm indefinitely—but I don’t complain. I’m twice as cold as I was before Aren touched me.

“Send your man for a cloak,” Hison says. “She’ll survive until he returns. We’ll continue on.”

Aren’s eyes narrow just perceptibly, but Hison is already moving.

“I’ll return quickly,” Trev mutters. Then he opens a fissure and disappears.

I’m so cold, I’m numb to the pull of his shadows. I’m not numb, however, to Aren’s next words.

“Lena shouldn’t have sent you.”

All the warm, fuzzy feelings I had when I first saw him vanish. “It’s good to see you again, too.”

“I didn’t—”

“Was I not clear that I want you to come along?” Hison asks, peering back down the walkway.

Aren draws in a breath. I start walking before he lets it out, partly because I’m hoping moving will warm me up and partly because I’m just a tad bit hurt. I’ve been worried about him. Has he been too busy to worry about me?

He’s fighting a war, I remind myself. He has more important things on his mind.

“Are you okay?” he asks, falling into step beside me. His gaze dips to my bare arms.

“I’m fine,” I say. I intend my response to be short, but it comes out harsher than I wanted. It’s the weather’s fault. My face is going numb. I am going to get sick if Trev doesn’t return soon. I’m sure he’s staying in this world; he shouldn’t have to wait too long before he fissures back.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way,” Aren says, keeping his voice so low I wonder if Hison understands English. Two fae are with the high noble. Only the woman is a guard, I think. She’s on Hison’s right, trailing slightly behind him. The fae on Hison’s other side wears a name-cord in his hair. He’s carrying a sword, too—all fae carry them—but he doesn’t seem as ready to use it as the woman does.

“I’ve missed you. I’ve been wanting to see you, too, just not like…” He stops, clenches his jaw, then continues. “Not here. Not like this.”

He almost sounds pained. I scan him, searching for injuries. He looks okay, but he looks different. He’s not the same Aren who held me captive. That Aren was cavalier and sly, always ready with one of his infuriating half grins. This Aren is tense. Stressed-out. I want to help him, but I don’t know how.

Not for the first time, I’m struck by just how little I know him. I was his prisoner for two weeks. I’ve been his ally for two and a half.

His ally. Is that all our relationship is? It feels like it sometimes, but I want to be so much more than that.

“This province has been unstable since we took the palace,” Aren says, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “Hison issued a curfew to try to keep things under control.”

A curfew. That explains why the streets are empty.

“It’s not working,” he continues. “The gate isn’t being monitored. Merchants are fighting over who gets to use it first, and while their backs are turned, fae are stealing their goods. They’re breaking into their stores, too. Hison should be able to take care of it, but the gate guards were paid by Atroth. Even if they’re willing to work for Lena, we don’t have the tinril to pay them. The high nobles won’t send the gate taxes to us because they haven’t voted Lena to the throne.”

I frown. I think I do, at least. My face is so numb I can’t tell for sure. “Sethan was against taxing the gates.”

Aren looks at me. “No.” His gaze drops to my bare arms again. He seems agitated. “We wanted fair tolls. Atroth’s were designed to keep him in power. He let merchants from the provinces he dissolved fissure for free so they wouldn’t protest. The gates need to be taxed, but we don’t have enough fae to spare to monitor them and…And I can’t watch you freeze like this.”

His arms are around me before I process his last sentence. I look at Hison. He’s still walking, but he could turn around any second.

“Screw him,” Aren says.

I’m too cold to step away. Instead, I meet Aren’s eyes. “Did you pick that phrase up from Naito?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “From you, actually.”

The nervous feeling in my stomach disappears. It’s replaced with a warm, tingling sensation.