Kyol draws in a breath. "You're very noticeable, kaesha."

An ache twinges through my heart. I push the pain aside, focus on our problem. "If we all wear camouflage, they won't be able to tell us apart."

Aren makes a noise that's half harrumph, half laugh. Before I can stop him, he kisses my cheek. A chaos luster bolts from his lips to my skin, sending a shock of tingling heat down my neck.

"You're brilliant," he says. He leans forward to see past me to Naito. "The vigilantes will be wearing it, right? Can we get enough uniforms in a day?"

Naito gives me an appreciative smile. Not only will the camo allow me to blend in; if Aren and the rest of the rebels wear it, it'll make it more difficult for the humans to tell them apart from the rest of the vigilantes. Sure, they'll eventually notice the rebels' swords and edarratae, but with the camo, it might take the humans two or three seconds longer than if they went in wearing only their jaedric armor. Two or three seconds is enough time for the rebels to fissure out of the way.

"It shouldn't be too difficult," Naito says. "I can look up the locations of a few army surplus stores."

"We need a fourth front," Lena says suddenly, looking up from a map. There's no preamble to her announcement. It's the first time she's spoken since I sat down. "We need to attack the palace itself."

"We don't have enough fae for that." Aren rests his hand on my thigh.

I catch my breath. My jeans protect me from his edarratae, but the natural warmth of his hand seeps into me. He's leaning on his opposite elbow, which rests on the table. I don't think anyone else notices we're touching.

"We won't need many," Lena says. "Just enough to force Atroth to keep guards on the wall. Taltrayn can suggest places to attack."

Is Aren staking a claim or something? Letting me know I'm his? That he's going to keep his promise not to let Kyol have me back?

"There are weaknesses to exploit," Kyol admits. "But the guards will be on alert."

I like kissing Aren. I like his teasing smile, his haphazard appearance, his loyalty to Lena and the rebellion, but do I like him? I barely know him.

"It will be worth the risk," Lena says. "Once we fissure inside the silver walls, we'll have men attack the guards from behind."

Aren rubs his thumb along my outer thigh. It's distracting, and now is not the best time to sort out my feelings, not with Kyol sitting across from us, not with a battle looming on the horizon.

Aren's thumb stops its caress. "Strategic assassinations might work. We need to control the entrances to the inner city. Taltrayn?"

"I can list sentries to neutralize." There's no emotion in Kyol's voice. He stares at the center of the table and doesn't look up. I want to crawl into his arms, tell him he's doing the right thing, and that everything's going to be okay, but I can't. I can't do any of that.

"Good," Lena says as she rises. Realizing she'll definitely notice where Aren's hand is if she's standing, I beat her to my feet.

Naito straightens out of his chair, too. "I'll look up those surplus stores."

"I'll help," Kelia pipes up.

"I'm not going to let you touch the laptop, baby."

She tilts her head to the side. "I'll have to find other ways to occupy myself, then."

Naito grins and takes her hand.

Kyol's gaze follows them when they leave the table. He has to know they're a couple. He has to see they're happy together, good together. If Kyol was a weaker man, if he'd given in to his desires, we could have been like that, too.

Aren and Kyol both rise when Lena steps into the living room to talk to Nalst. When Aren turns toward me, I grab the glass of cabus and use it as a shield between us. There's a faint smile on his lips. It doesn't last long, though. It disappears as soon as Kyol steps to my side.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, ignoring Aren. He's still trying to take care of me, to give me a way out of this war.

My hands tighten around my glass. "I have to do this."

I'm worried he's going to argue that point. I take a sip of cabus. I don't know why. To buy some time? To show my determination? Whatever my motivation, I regret it immediately. Trying not to make too much of a face, I gulp the liquid down, then set the glass aside.

"I choose to do this," I tell him.

He looks into my eyes. If we were still working for the king, this is the type of battle he'd shelter me from. He only tolerated the risks to my life before because they were minimal: he and a contingent of his best swordsmen were always with me, and we ambushed the fae I tracked. Tomorrow will be different. The Court knows we're coming. There will be a lot of death, a lot of violence. This could be as bad as Brykeld.

Kyol takes my hand. Warmth spreads through my palm and a chaos luster spirals to my elbow. "You'll stay by my side and do as I say. You'll fissure out when and with whom I tell you to."

"Except," Aren interjects, taking a small step forward, "she'll be with me."

Kyol squeezes my hand. He lets it go before addressing Aren. "She and I have worked together before."

Aren gives a lazy shrug. "In the past. She's not your puppet anymore. I'll keep her safe."

"I'll keep her safe. I've protected her for ten years."

"You didn't protect her from me."

Kyol's fist launches Aren into the wall.

Nalst rushes forward, drawing his sword, but Kyol snarls something I can't translate and doesn't slow down. He strides through the living room and out the back door.

"Sidhe," Aren groans on the ground. He gingerly touches his jaw.

"You deserved that," I tell him.

Lena scowls and adds, "You should have seen that coming."

"I did see it coming. I just didn't have time to duck." He sits up and stretches his jaw, working it to the left, then to the right.

I don't feel sorry for him. Aren was an ass. There was no reason to provoke Kyol.

"McKenzie," he calls out when I turn to leave. I ignore him and go outside.

It's a warm evening. Humid. A half-moon hangs low on the horizon, half obscured by thin wisps of clouds. Kyol's sitting to my left, his back against the brick wall, his forearms resting on his bent knees.

I sink down beside him. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't say anything for a long time. He's staring at his clasped hands. His edarratae are bright out here. In the past, I'd trace their paths on his skin. I miss doing that. I miss the heat of his touch, the familiar comfort of it.

"I've lost you, haven't I?"

His pain tears me into pieces. My throat closes up, and I can't answer him. I don't know how to. I've been avoiding this conversation, this decision, for far too long because I thought it would end with me alone and heartbroken. Now . . . now it doesn't have to end that way. Lena's made him her lord general, but if Kyol and I both survive tomorrow, he would abandon that position. He'd abandon the Realm if I ask. Ten years ago, one year ago, maybe even a month ago, I would have asked.

He lets out a sound that's so very close to a single, choked sob. "I dedicated my life to my king. I should have dedicated it to you."

I swallow against a raw throat. "I shouldn't have had to wait ten years for you."

"I . . ." His voice breaks. "I've wronged you all this time. I knew how you felt, how I felt, and I did nothing."

I bite my lip, taste blood, but the pain isn't enough of a distraction. The tears fall.

"Kaesha," Kyol breathes out. "Don't cry. Please. Come here."

He drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his embrace. I close my eyes, selfishly soak in his scent and his warmth.

"I came out here to comfort you," I whisper.

His arm tightens around my shoulders.

"This comforts me," he says. "This comforts me very much."

TWENTY-NINE.

THE VIGILANTES' JET landed in Great Falls about three hours ago. It will take them almost four hours to drive and then hike to the stream the Court fae are guarding. We won't fissure out until Aren's scouts report they've arrived. It's nearly time to go, but I've never had to wait this long for an operation before. It's nerve-wracking.

Not for Aren, though. He's sitting in the living room cracking jokes. It's annoying, how collected and carefree he seems. I finally ate a decent meal so, physically, I'm doing better. Emotionally, though, I'm stretched thin. Every time I'm in the same room with Kyol, I feel like I'm ripping his heart from his chest, especially if I'm anywhere near Aren. Because I can't stand hurting him, I'm doing my best to stay away from both fae.

I choke down a few swallows of cabus, chase it with almost half a can of Dr Pepper. I told Kyol he didn't have to help the rebellion, but he said he'd never forgive himself if anything happened to me. Besides, he's determined to send Radath to the ether. That doesn't make me feel any better. If anything happens to Kyol, I won't forgive myself.

"McKenzie."

Naito holds out a belt with an empty holster. Reluctantly, I push my chair away from the kitchen table and stand, taking the belt and putting it on.

"This is the safety." He flicks up a little lever on the right side of the gun in his hand. "Press here to change the magazine." He pushes a button on the grip, lets the black rectangle drop an inch, then clicks it back into place before holding it out. "There are extra magazines in the bag with your sketchbook."

Fabulous. I slip the gun into the holster at my hip.

Before I'm able to sit back down, the back door swings open. I step into the living room in time to see one of Aren's scouts stride in. A wave of uneasiness washes through me. I don't have a good feeling about this. I feel like my luck has run out, that if we go through with these attacks at the Sidhe Tol and the invasion of the Silver Palace, someone I care about isn't going to return.

Lena gives orders to the gathered fae. Fissures rip through the air and most of the rebels disappear. Naito follows Evan and Kelia out the back door, leaving just me, Lena, Aren, and Kyol inside.

"You two will work together?" Lena asks them. I think she really wants to know neither of them will be stabbing the other in the back. I'm not worried about Kyol losing control. Aren on the other hand . . .

"We'll sort out our differences later," he says.

Lena doesn't look entirely satisfied with that answer, but she nods and fissures out. When Kyol exits the back door, I return to the kitchen to grab the army green satchel with my sketchbook, pencils, and, apparently, extra magazines. I'm praying I won't need the latter. I might not need the sketchbook either. Even if Radath shows up in Montana, odds are against me being within shadow-reading distance when he fissures out. But maybe I can sketch out the locations of one or two other officers if I'm nearby when they flee. Better to be prepared.

Aren blocks my path when I turn. He's not smiling, but he doesn't seem angry either. He knows I've been avoiding him, and I'm surprised-and maybe disappointed?-he hasn't cornered me before now.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he says. "I shouldn't have provoked Taltrayn."

He's apologizing? He has a hard time even acknowledging Kyol's existence. "He's still taking me through the gate."

Lena made that call earlier, agreeing with Kyol that we'd be more efficient together than Aren and I since we haven't exactly cooperated on anything since we've met.

"I know," Aren says. "But I wanted to apologize. I don't want Taltrayn to convince you I'm the bad guy."

At that, I give a short laugh. "You are the bad guy, Aren."

He frowns, and I realize he's taking my words the wrong way.

"What I mean is you're the . . . well, the rebel. Kyol's the good guy. He's made mistakes, yes, but he loves me."

He cocks his head to the side. His gaze makes my skin tingle. The step he takes toward me is hesitant, careful, and when his silver eyes peer down at me, I stop breathing. His lips are so close. I remember the way they felt pressed against mine. I remember his taste, the heat of his edarratae.

The smallest distance separates us when he whispers, "You don't think I'm in love with you?"

"I . . ."

I don't know, and I can't answer him anyway because he lowers his head. I raise mine. His kiss is gentle, tentative, like he's afraid of breaking this moment and breaking me. It takes only a heartbeat before I really do break. I grab the back of his neck, pulling him hard against my mouth until he responds. Chaos lusters fire from his lips and from the hands cradling my face. The lightning sparks across my skin, buries itself low in my stomach, and I moan.

His fingers clutch at my shoulders. He gasps my name as he separates his mouth from mine. "If you keep making noises like that, we'll never get out of here."

I don't want to go. I want to stay here with him. I want to see if we could work, if we could be something together.

"McKenzie," he breathes out when I pull him back for another kiss. He presses his forehead against mine. "You're killing me. We have to go. Or you can stay but I . . ." He swallows. "Sidhe, I have to go."

He's right. Damn it, he's right. I bite my lower lip, then nod. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "It's nice, you letting yourself want me." His fingers graze my cheek and then diamonds glitter in his silver eyes. "Ah, a rare smile. I could die happy right now."

I laugh. "I smiled a lot before I met you."

"I'll make sure you smile a lot more." I shudder when he kisses my palm. "A whole lot more. Right after we overthrow the king."

IT'S too fucking quiet. The vigilantes and the Court fae are both supposed to be here. I should hear gunfire and the sharp shrrips of fissures ripping through the air, not my thumping heart and the wet plop of rainwater dripping from the trees.

Kyol pulls me to a crouch on the soggy ground and cocks his head to listen. Thunder rumbles in the distance. It's supposed to rain off and on all day. Aren's counting on it, actually. If the vigilantes deploy silver dust again, a good, hard shower should take care of it. Right now, though, a sticky humidity thickens the air, making it hard to breathe. The Kevlar vest under my camo clings to my torso, and my sweat-soaked undershirt rubs against my skin. With their jaedric cuirasses under their fatigues, the rebels have to be sweltering just as much.

Kyol lowers his mouth to my ear.

"Two Court fae. Ahead and . . ." His lips graze my ear. A chaos luster reverberates down my neck. It pools in my stomach.

"Ahead and to the right," he finishes, his voice strained.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I bite my lip and nod, confirming that the two fae aren't illusions. They creep forward without moving the underbrush. We stay frozen as they silently stalk by, passing between us and Aren and Nalst, who crouch twenty feet to our right. Kelia and Naito are on the other side of them, and the rest of the rebels assigned to this Sidhe Tol are spread out behind us and on the opposite side of the stream, less than a quarter mile ahead.

A sharp crack of thunder vibrates through the forest. The thick canopy protects us from the rain for a few short seconds before the downpour penetrates it. The air cools, but I'm quickly soaked through and even more miserable than before. I want this over with. If Radath hasn't sent more than a few fae to protect this Sidhe Tol, it shouldn't be difficult to get a sizable number of rebels into the Silver Palace.