“Open your eyes, McKenzie.” His order is wrapped in fear and hope. They’re such odd, conflicting emotions. I need to see his face. Need to see his eyes, his mouth. I need to see him.

I concentrate, pour all of my strength and willpower into the monumental task of opening my eyes.

It works. I see the blur of a ceiling high above me, a hazy silhouette nearer, leaning over me.

I blink until Aren’s worried face comes into focus.

“Thank the Sidhe,” he whispers. Then his lips are on mine. My mouth tingles, and chaos lusters spark between us as we kiss. I remember his touch, his taste, his scent, but I’m distracted. Something is off. I can’t concentrate on Aren because Kyol is hurting. Was he crushed under the wall as well?

My chest is tight. I feel panicky. I need…I need…

“I’m here, McKenzie.”

I turn my head, and he is there, crouched just behind me. We’re in the small room hidden in the wall behind Lena’s throne. The last time I was here, Atroth was still king. I was still on their side of the war.

I roll to my stomach so I can see him better. A mistake. Pain stabs through me.

“McKenzie,” Aren says, his voice alarmed. “Don’t move.”

I don’t think I’m completely healed, but I have to know what’s wrong with Kyol. He’s hurting more, now. I can see it on his face.

I try to push up. Aren’s hands are on my shoulders, keeping me still. I ignore him, still struggling to rise until Kyol places his hand over mine.

“Rest.”

That one, simple word makes me relax. I can’t hold my weight up anyway. I let Aren settle me back down. He carefully places me on my back again. Everything hurts. My bones, my joints, my skin. Black spots blur my vision. I need to sleep.

I think I actually do. When I open my eyes this time, I feel more settled. I can focus on Aren.

“The fight?” I ask. The fact that someone brought me to this hidden room and not my bedroom might mean it’s still going on.

“Most of the wall held. The new Sidhe Tol is protected.”

I breathe a little easier. Something went right today.

“You look awful,” I tell Aren. And he does. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face looks pale except for a smear of red on his cheek.

“With your injuries…” Aren’s voice cracks. “I don’t know how you survived long enough for me to reach you.”

“You healed me?” I feel the question wrinkle my forehead. He was somewhere in my world, fighting at a Sidhe Tol. Lena should have been easier to find. “Is Lena okay?”

“I fissured directly to the veligh after we secured the Sidhe Tol. If I hadn’t…” He swallows, re-collects himself. “Lena’s fine. She’ll be here soon.” His touch is gentle as he brushes my hair back from my face. It’s as if he’s afraid he’ll break me. He doesn’t know how I survived. I don’t either. When I blocked the flame, I knew I was going to die. I remember it hitting me, remember burning.

I remember Kyol.

I start to crane my head so I can see him, but he comes to my side, sparing me the effort. I analyze his face. He’s wearing a perfectly impenetrable mask. There’s no tension in his mouth or at the corners of his eyes. Something isn’t right, though. I’d swear he’s…anguished?

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

Kyol doesn’t answer. That’s weird. I mean, even if something’s wrong, and he doesn’t want to tell me, he’d say he was fine. Why doesn’t he tell me he’s fine?

“He’s okay, McKenzie,” Aren says. He touches my forehead. I feel his magic—I think he’s trying to heal the headache growing behind my eyes—but I push away his hand and sit up.

That’s definitely a mistake. Aren brought me back from the brink of death, but I am not well. A prickling sensation moves through my hands and feet, like they’ve fallen asleep and are just now waking up, and my muscles protest. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean forward, fairly certain I’m going to vomit.

“Lena,” I hear Aren say. “She’s hurting, and I’m spent. Please.”

She says something back to him in Fae, but she’s speaking too softly for me to make out the words.

Then, she’s at my side. “Lie down.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to lie back down. If I do, I might never get up again.

“Lie down,” she says, and this time, she puts her hand on my chest.

I’m not strong enough to fight her. I fall to my back.

She finishes the work Aren started, mending bones, reattaching muscles and tendons, repairing my skin. It hurts, but I don’t make a sound. I’m not sure if I have the energy to cry out anymore.

I must fade off again. When I wake this time, I feel better. Tired, but better.

Lena is still kneeling beside me.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” I say. My voice is stronger now.

“I’m glad you are as well,” she says. I actually think she means it.

She moves aside, letting Aren take her place. He intertwines his fingers with mine, and I feel him tremble. Just for a second, and it’s not due to my edarratae. Jesus, he’s close to burnout because of me, and I’ve been focused on Kyol this whole time. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He smiles. Then he bends down to kiss me.

It’s only when our lips meet this time that I truly believe I’m going to live. He grounds me to this world, and I pull him more tightly to me. I make sure he knows I want him. I love him. Then, I’m suddenly aware that there are others watching us.

Kyol’s watching us.

I pull back. Aren’s eyebrows dip in concern. “What is it?”

“It’s…Kyol.”

There’s no hurt or anger in Aren’s expression now, just worry. Simultaneously, our heads turn to look at Lena’s lord general.

And that’s when his composure cracks. His shoulders slump and the silver in his eyes darkens with…pain? Why is he hurting so much?

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t let her die. It was the only thing I could try.”

Beside me, Aren stiffens.

“What did you try?” Lena asks.

Kyol looks at her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much fear in his eyes.

“It shouldn’t have worked,” he says.

“What did you do, Taltrayn?” Her words are soft, almost consoling, as if she can ease the confession from his lips.

His gaze returns to Aren.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

There’s murder in Aren’s eyes, in the way he draws in a slow breath, lets it out as he rises.

“You should leave, Taltrayn,” Lena says, her voice still cool, still calm.

Kyol doesn’t budge. Aren does. His hand clenches on the hilt of his sword as he takes a step forward. The muscles in his forearms and biceps tremble. It’s like he’s fighting a war with himself.

“Now, Taltrayn,” Lena says.

Kyol’s jaw tightens. He looks at me again, and my heart rips in two. It takes everything in me not to go to him, comfort him.

He winces, then starts for the exit.

Aren steps into his path.

“The only reason you still breathe,” he whispers, “is because killing you would kill her.”