“Good,” Aren says in English. “That will make things simpler. You and Naito will lead the way. McKenzie and I will follow. Lena, you’ll stay five to ten paces back. Don’t look like you’re with us. If anything goes wrong, fissure out. Understood?”

His gaze travels over them as they each agree. He doesn’t look at me. He hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction since he entered.

He gestures toward the door. “Go.”

Naito dons his hood and follows Kelia out. Lena leaves next. Aren’s going to have to say something now. He’s at least going to have to acknowledge my existence because I’m not walking out of here without more information.

“Who’s Lorn?” I ask.

He stares at the crates stacked against the wall. “Pull on your hood.”

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere you shouldn’t be seen. Your hood, McKenzie.”

“Are you worried the king’s soldiers will recognize me?”

He finally turns. If my back wasn’t already pressed against the wall, I’d retreat from those eyes. They’re angry, miserable, and judging all at once. I don’t breathe as his gaze follows what I assume is a chaos luster across my face. Another one flashes across my hand.

Aren steps toward me. His expression doesn’t soften, but his lips part slightly as if he’s about to say something. He takes a second step, then another. He’s within an arm’s length. I can feel the heat of his body, smell cedar and cinnamon.

He jerks my hood over my head. “Keep your skin covered.”

Aren’s seriousness scares the shit out of me. I force myself to breathe again and try to slow my heart rate. “Where exactly are we?”

He grips my arm through the cloak. “We’re in Lyechaban.”

“Lyechaban!” So much for slowing my heart rate; it triples its pace. “Are you crazy?”

He harrumphs. “Indeed.”

“These people will kill me, Aren.”

“I strongly advise against an escape attempt.” He pulls my hood lower, puts an arm around my shoulders, then forces me out the door.

I’ll draw attention if I struggle, so I stay pressed against his side. I wish my edarratae could be hidden by illusion, but that magic doesn’t work on humans so when a stout wind lifts the edges of my cloak and threatens to pull off my hood, I cling to the woollike material, desperate to hold it in place. I’m careful to keep my hands unseen, and to walk casually, to look like I belong in the Realm and this city when I very much do not. There are certain places where humans aren’t welcome in this world. Then there are places like Lyechaban.

I try not to let the memory surface. I try to focus on the shacks lining either side of the road, on Kelia and Naito, who lead the way east, toward the briny scent of the ocean. We’re in a poorer district of the city. You can always tell by the amount of silver on the buildings. These are made of wood and brittle stone and none are painted with a coat of silver.

A fae crosses my path. His booted feet pass within my hooded vision. I lean into Aren. The one and only time I was in this city, a full guard of Kyol’s swordsmen escorted me. Lyechaban is the capital of Derrdyn, one of the provinces that did not vote King Atroth to the throne. It’s always been—not a lawless place, but a place with its own laws. After Kyol rescued me from Thrain, Lord General Radath learned Lyechaban’s magistrate and his council were sheltering the false-blood. Since I was young and new to shadow-reading, I wasn’t the first reader they sent in. I came after two others were . . .

No. I won’t think of that.

Aren’s arm tightens on my shoulders as he guides me around a corner. Beneath my cloak, I can see little of the city. I feel it, though. It always takes time to adjust to being in the Realm. Being in the Realm in Lyechaban takes even longer. Every movement I make feels so human and so wrong here. It’s hard to convince myself I don’t stick out in this cloak, but it’s not like I’m walking down a street in my world. Capes and cloaks are common here, especially with such a cold wind blowing. I blend in. Probably.

We take another right turn. Aren keeps me between him and the buildings lining the road. I try to calm my heart rate and force my feet to continue at Aren’s pace. It’s artificially slow for a fae, but it’s all I can do to keep up, especially when I have to be careful of my steps. The streets of Lyechaban are full of potholes and gaps.

Fortunately, this street is better than the last. Plus there’s silver on the front doors of some homes and shops.

Ahead I hear rather than see the street becoming more crowded. I want to run, but we’re deep within a city that is smashed between the Realm’s tallest mountain range and the Kerrel Ocean. The gate is my only way out of here. How is Aren planning to take me through it? It’ll be regulated by inspectors and surrounded by Lyechabanians.

Oh, God. Maybe he’s not planning to take me through it. Maybe he’s planning to leave me here after we talk to Lorn. Maybe he’s planning to turn me over to the locals.

Panic settles like a heavy weight on my chest.

No. Don’t overreact, McKenzie. Naito’s here. Aren has to have a plan to get him out of the city.

But I can’t shake off the fear slithering over my skin, especially not when I recognize the structure at this twist in the road. A high silver fence adorned with intricate metalwork, effigies depicting the Tar Sidhe, surrounds the building. Black spikes make it look more like a medieval church than a political house. This is where the city’s soldiers will take me if I’m found. If the Lyechaban citizens find me first, they’ll skip the formality of an appearance before the magistrate and take me directly to the city center. Like criminals sentenced to the stocks in my world a century ago, I’ll be put on display in the middle of the marketplace.

What if a human is on display there now?

My steps falter, stop. Someone bumps into me from behind. I tense, but they mutter an apology in Fae and keep moving.

The warmth of Aren’s arm encircles me again. He speaks through my hood into my ear. “Keep moving.”

He forces me forward a step. Two steps. I want to beg him to go another way. I can imagine rounding this corner and entering the city center. The last time I was here, two people were bound back-to-back to a pole on the central dais. I was halfway across the marketplace before I recognized them as human. I thought for sure they were dead. Then one of them twitched.

Aren leans down to peer into my hood. “McKenzie. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—” I stop because I realize I’m speaking in English and I can’t think of the words in Fae.

Get a grip, McKenzie. It’s just a memory. No one will be on the dais. Every human who’s ever entered the Realm knows better than to come to Lyechaban, and I’m not a coward. I can walk through a freaking marketplace without losing my composure.

“Nothing.” I start forward again. Aren remains close by my side. With his arm around my shoulders, I know he feels my body tense as we round the corner. I know he feels when I let out my breath a moment later. Not that I’ve relaxed. No skinned humans are on display on the dais, but the marketplace is crammed with Lyechabanians, or whatever the hell they call themselves.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I do it. I must brush up against a dozen different fae as we squeeze through the thickest part of the crowd. Even though I keep my skin covered, I’m terrified my edarratae will somehow leap through my cloak and into them. They won’t be able to ignore the heated kiss of the lightning if that happens. I won’t be able to run.