The Shattered Dark by Sandy Williams Read Free Book Online Page A

being together. King Atroth forbade relationships
     between humans and fae. That was something that always held Kyol back, but it hasn’t
     deterred Aren. He and the rebels are much more accepting of humans than the Court
     fae ever were. The problem is, the rebels don’t make up the majority of the population.
     Most fae still think humans and human culture damage the Realm’s magic.
    Aren looks at me. He must see that I’ve figured it out because he says, “I’m not him.
     I won’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you.”
    Him.
Kyol. I spent the last decade pretending I didn’t have feelings for him in front
     of the Court fae. It was a ridiculously long time to stay in love with a guy who put
     the Realm and his king’s wishes before me.
    I don’t respond to Aren; I just keep pace next to him as westep into the palace’s sculpture garden. It must be late—maybe close to the middle
     of the night—because only a few fae are gathered here. This is a serene place that
     reminds me of a movie version of a Roman forum, a beautiful, open space adorned with
     carved-stone statues and vibrant green plants, where people can meet and talk. Some
     of the fae watch us with curious expressions as we pass through its center. Their
     looks say they want us to stop, to answer questions or provide information or gossip,
     but nobody actually calls out to us.
    The huge, gilded doors to the king’s hall are shut. Or is it the queen’s hall now?
     Lena’s made very few changes these last two weeks. She’s waiting until the high nobles
     confirm her lineage and approve her taking the throne so that her decrees will be
     considered official. Nobody knows when—or if—that vote will happen, though.
    A guard—one of Lena’s rebels—opens a smaller door that blends into the larger one’s
     design. I follow Aren in, and we walk side by side down the plush blue carpet. It’s
     only after Aren curses under his breath that I notice no swordsmen or archers are
     in here. Just Lena. She’s sitting with her shoulders slumped on the top step of the
     silver dais at the end of the hall, not on the silver throne that crowns it. It’s
     a constant battle, trying to get Lena to act like a queen.
    She straightens as we approach, but it’s a weak attempt to look strong and alert.
     Her normally perfect, glowing complexion is marred by the dark circles under her eyes,
     and her long, blond hair doesn’t seem as silky as usual. She’s wearing a white tunic
     that fits snug around her slender frame, and something that I can only describe as
     half of a long skirt is tied around her hips. The lean muscles in her outer left thigh
     are visible, but her entire right leg is hidden under the skirt’s thick layers of
     blue and white feathers. Lena’s father, the elder of Zarrak, was the high noble of
     Adaris, one of the provinces King Atroth dissolved to gain the throne, so she usually
     dresses like she’s highborn, but this has to be the most ornate and impractical thing
     I’ve ever seen her wear.
    “No one’s in here,” she says defensively.
    “That’s the other problem.” Aren stops at the foot of the dais. “There should be.
     Where are your guards?”
    “I sent them to the
veligh
.” Her expression is stony, as if she’s daring him to question her decision.
    Beside me, Aren stiffens. “The remnants?”
    “Of course,” she says.
    Veligh
translates into waterfront. Most of the buildings of the Inner City are to the south
     and west of the palace. To the east, there are no homes or stores, just a sliver of
     land before you reach the silver wall. The Imyth Sea is on its other side, and because
     that part of the wall and palace would be so difficult to penetrate, Lena’s kept only
     a minimal guard on watch. Apparently, the remnants decided to take advantage of that.
    “Their numbers are growing, not shrinking,” Lena says, directing an empty stare at
     one of the tall, arched windows lining the wall to the left