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my head toward the staircase and see the light from a magically lit orb reflect off a fae’s blade. He descends another step, then, just as I realize he’s not one of Lena’s guards, he lifts his sword.

FOUR

    “W ATCH OUT!” I shout, grabbing Lena’s arm.
    The swordsman’s blade is already arcing toward her. I can’t get her out of the way in time, but Kyol’s fighting instincts are insanely accurate. He’s at the foot of the staircase, diving beneath the swinging sword and ramming his shoulder into the man’s knees.
    I lose sight of the fae when Lena’s guards rush to protect her. By the time I get a better view, Kyol has one strong arm locked around her attacker’s neck. His struggles to get free cease when Lena and one of her guards rest the points of their blades on the fae’s cheeks.
    His eyes widen with fear.
“I’m sorry,”
he blurts out.
“I thought you were one of them. I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was you.”
    That’s complete crap. The
jaedric
armor Lena’s wearing has been bleached white, and long strips of blue silk flow down her legs, almost creating the look of a long skirt. It’s definitely not the clothing that any normal soldier would be wearing, but even if her attacker is blind, I’d guess he was standing just out of sight on the stairs for at least thirty seconds. Maybe even a minute.
    “You’re not a follower,”
Lena says.
    “Of course not,”
he replies, looking affronted, and I can practically see an idea form in his mind. His voice takes on an overly innocent—and in my opinion weaselly—tone.
“I would never follow a false-blood. Only true Descendants like yourself should sit on the silver throne.”
    “Why were you here?”
Lena’s question sounds like an accusation.
    I feel my lip twisting. It’s clear why he would be here.
    “I was just . . .”
The bastard looks at me and immediately shuts up.
    I’m not sure when I drew my dagger, but my right hand is clenched around its hilt, and I’m holding it like I’m ready to use it. Add to that the fact that I’m covered in blood and lightning, and I can see why he might suddenly go mute.
    If Aren were here, he’d make a comment about how terrifying the
nalkin-shom
looks. Kyol doesn’t say anything; he just hefts the sleazy fae to his feet, then motions to one of Lena’s guards.
    “I can tell you what I saw,”
the fae says, as his hands are bound.
    Lena turns her back on him. After the guards drag him down the hall, I ask her, “How did you know he wasn’t an
elari
?”
    “No name-cord,” she says, sheathing her sword and crossing her arms over her chest.
    “All the
elari
come from the same family?”
    “No. They’ve twisted the tradition. The stones don’t denote their ancestry. They’re using them to show their allegiance to the false-blood.”
    She’s definitely overworked. I can hear it in the slight edge of bitterness in her voice and see it in the set of her shoulders. Plus, she seems oblivious of the fact that she was just attacked.
    “He tried to kill you,” I say, nodding toward the fae as her guards manhandle him down the steps to the first floor. “Does everyone want you dead?”
    She shrugs like it’s a minor thing. “The bounty on my head surpassed the bounty on yours last week. Neither is a small amount.”
    Great.
    Kyol picks up the captive fae’s sword. Lena watches him slide it into his scabbard, then slip on the cloak a guard hands him.
    “You reacted quickly to McKenzie’s warning,” she says.
    He says nothing, but an emotion that feels close to uncertainty pokes a tiny hole in his wall. He
did
react quickly, especially considering how weak he still is.
    Lena’s mouth tightens.
    “Escort McKenzie to the gate, Taltrayn,” she says after a long pause. “You two need to talk.”
     • • • 
    WE make our way through Corrist’s Outer City side by side, but we don’t say anything for most of the walk. Lena sent only Kyol with me. For privacy, I assume. It’s