I shut off the faucet, grab a towel, and carefully pat dry my hands. “The fae you had me track in Nashville—Aylen. She fissured to Eksan. That’s where I tracked a remnant to a day later. It was too big a coincidence to ignore.”

He scowls. “Lena arrested me based on that?”

“Not just that,” I say. “You gave her the tip about Paige being in London, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I did. That was our deal. I found her for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“How did you know she was there?” I ask.

His expression doesn’t change, but something about him gives me the impression that he’s feeling a little less jovial than a moment before.

“My sources told me,” he says.

“Your ‘sources’?” When he doesn’t respond, I say, “The Sighted humans who worked for Atroth were there. They were dead. And the remnants received an anonymous tip saying that I’d be there. It was a setup.”

He presses his lips together, then says, “That is a little incriminating, isn’t it?”

I raise my hand in a there-you-have-it motion.

“So, do you want to tell me who Aylen is? Why you needed me to read her shadows?”

“In a moment,” he says, turning to look out the window as three fissures rip through the backyard.

EIGHTEEN

WE TAKE OVER the living room, Lena sitting on the edge of a sofa chair while Lorn lounges back in another one with a glass of cabus in his hand. Without so much as a hello to me, Aren drags in a chair from the kitchen. That gets on my nerves. He could at least acknowledge my existence, but he straddles the chair and drapes his arms over the back, all carefree and relaxed.

“Are the breakers in the garage?” Naito asks me, as I take a seat on the couch. He fissured in with Kyol, Lena, and Aren.

“I think so,” I tell him, and he leaves to go find them. Lorn’s edarratae are still slow and erratic, and Lena’s and Aren’s look slightly agitated, too. Kyol’s are steady, though, flashing only occasionally across his face and forearms. He sits at the opposite end of the couch, his mental wall holding back his emotions.

I make an effort to establish my wall, but it doesn’t work very well. I keep looking at Aren. He never looks at me.

The electricity clicks off. I stare down at my hands, which rest gingerly on my knees. Hison has to be blackmailing Aren. I have to find out what he’s holding over his head. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, though. It’s not like Hison will just hand over the information.

My gaze locks on Lorn, a connoisseur of information. If he doesn’t already know what Hison has on Aren, he could find out, I’m sure of it. I just have to find the right price to buy it from him.

“Well,” Lorn says lightly, when Naito rejoins us. “This is a familiar gathering. Are we making plans to lay siege to a high noble’s manor?”

“The false-blood,” Lena says, obviously not entertained by Lorn’s cavalier tone. “You met him. Tell us what you know about him.”

“I know that I want him dead.”

“My patience is thin, Lorn. Give me details.”

“Patience?” He smiles. “My dear, you’ve never had anything of the sort.”

I think he’s trying to get under her skin. Why, I don’t know. She saved his life. He owes her. There’s no need to antagonize her, especially now. Healing him wore her out. The circles under her eyes are darker than they were a day ago. She deserves a break.

“You were going to tell me about Aylen,” I say, before Lena snaps.

Lorn looks at me. He raises his glass of cabus in a small salute, as if he knows exactly why I’ve spoken up. “Yes, Aylen. I had you read her shadows because I believed she was selling information to my competitors.”

“Was she?” I ask.

“She was,” he says, drawing out the last word in a way that makes it clear she’s no longer capable of doing so. Sent to the ether, I imagine. Lorn didn’t become lord of the Realm’s underworld by letting people cross him.

“You could have just told me that,” I say. “Or told Lena when she questioned you.”

“I never had the chance to question him,” Lena says. “The high nobles forced me to release him within a day of his arrest.”

“The false-blood,” Kyol says. The hilt of his sword—his real sword, not the practice one—is clasped between his hands. “You gave McKenzie’s location to him. You spoke with him.”

“I wouldn’t call it a conversation,” Lorn says. “But, yes, I’ve met him and his elari. Aylen wasn’t selling information only to my competitors. She sold it to the Taelith as well.”

“The Taelith,” Lena says, her lips twisting as if the title puts a bad taste in her mouth. “Who is he?”

Lorn sets his glass of cabus down on the side table and leans forward. “He is our nemesis, my dear.”

Lena stiffens. I’m not sure why. If Lorn sees the false-blood as his nemesis as well as ours, it’s a good thing. It means there’s a better chance he’ll help us.

“I need a name,” Lena says.

“I didn’t learn a name.”

“Then tell me how you met him. Tell me something, Lorn.”

“Even my patience is growing thin.” That’s from Aren, who’s been silent until this moment. He’s still sitting backward in his chair, arms draped across it in a way that makes him look sexy and rebellious. He still won’t look at me.

Lorn leans back in his sofa chair and drags a finger around the rim of his glass. “I’m afraid I may have been inadvertently providing the false-blood with information. And supplying him with silver. And weapons. And—”

“Sidhe, Lorn!” Lena explodes to her feet. “Have you abandoned all reason and become an elari?”

Lorn sets down his glass as he stands, too, albeit much more slowly than she does. Kyol rises as a precaution. And a threat. Lorn’s gaze slides to him. He looks more annoyed than worried, though.

“I’ve always worked with false-bloods,” Lorn says. “It’s easy money, and they’ve always been ripped apart by the Court. They never had a chance of success, so why should I not profit from them? If I hadn’t provided aid to Sethan, your rebellion would have died within months of its inception.”

“My brother was not a false-blood,” Lena snarls. “I’m not one either. You’ve always known that. You shouldn’t be supplying anything to my enemies.”

“I should change my lifestyle and business practices to suit you?”

“Yes!” she hisses.

“I—” Lorn cuts himself off, shutting his mouth with a sharp click of his teeth. Seconds tick by. Neither of them backs down or looks away.

“Sit down,” Aren finally orders. He’s still relaxed, but his expression is much more somber than it was a minute ago.

Lorn gives in first, plopping into his chair and reaching for his cabus. Lena and Kyol sit next. Lena still looks tired and pissed.

Lorn takes a sip of his cabus and clears his throat. “As I said, the information I supplied was inadvertent. The majority of the Taelith’s elari come from Lyechaban. He’s taken advantage of their hatred of everything human and has made promises to cleanse the Realm.”