“Quickly.” Aren’s voice comes from my left. “Follow me.”

He shoulders his way into the crowd, carving a path. The fae glare at him when they’re shoved aside, but then their gazes lock on me. Their eyes go wide. They look back up into the sky, then move out of my way.

“What are they looking at?” I ask, striding behind Aren.

“A lightning storm.”

An illusion of a lightning storm. No wonder the fae are backing away. Lightning is extremely rare in the Realm. Some people think it’s a sign that the Tar Sidhe are angry at the presence of humans and human culture. Others think it’s just a random, natural occurrence. Either way, I can see how the fae would be nervous, seeing a lightning-clad human beneath a lightning-struck sky. But Aren can’t be doing this. He’s a healer. It’s a powerful, endangered magic, and while illusionists are more common, creating a lightning show impressive enough to catch this mob’s attention would require a huge amount of skill. I don’t think Aren has the ability to create tiny, short-lived illusions, let alone something on this scale.

The crowd splits. I see the gate on the riverbank. Or rather, I see the flashes of near-constant light that are being opened where I think the gate is. Technically, Aren doesn’t have to create a fissure of his own to get me out of here. We can travel through another fae’s. The slashes of light are rips in the atmosphere that lead to the In-Between; I just need an anchor-stone and a fae escort to live through it.

Aren discreetly hands me an anchor-stone. My hands are so cold and numb, it feels like it scalds my palm, but I clench my fist around it. Just a few more steps to the riverbank. Aren’s plan is actually going to work.

“Tchatalun.”

I’ve blocked out the whispers of nalkin-shom, but that one word whispered from somewhere to my right rings in my ears. It means “defiled one” but it’s basically synonymous with “human.” The last time I heard it, I was in Lyechaban, and it was uttered by fae who wanted me dead.

I can’t identify who said the word now, but there’s a change in the mob. It’s as if they’ve suddenly realized my destination. Their surprised and almost fearful expressions vanish. Aren must sense the change, too, because he hooks his arm around me, pulling me against his side.

Only a few more feet to the gate.

Aren takes my hand. He shoves someone aside.

Someone shoves back. I stumble, but manage to stay on my feet. Two more steps, and we’ll be at an opened fissure.

The crowd surges around us. I tighten my grip on Aren and throw my weight forward. The fae in front of me move when I do so. My momentum carries me to the riverbank. Aren’s hand slips from mine. I try to turn back to find him, but my sneaker hits the edge of the frozen river. I lose traction. Slip.

I put out my hands to catch myself, but I’m falling all wrong, and the river isn’t completely frozen over. The fae have hammered through the ice surrounding the gate.

My shoulder hits first, and I can’t stop my head from slamming down, too. Pain explodes through my temple. Aren calls my name. I push up to all fours, trying to focus on the ice beneath me.

The ice that’s cracking beneath me.

I lunge toward the bank, but I’m too late. The slab beneath me breaks off, plunging me into the dark, cold depths of the river.

I arch my back, trying to free myself from the restraints around my wrists, but the nurse is at my side, tightening them further. A tingling sensation runs up my arm, then it starts itching. It’s the saline solution still, but the drugs the nurse added to the IV bag will enter my bloodstream soon.

We tried sneaking out of Bedfont House. One of Paige’s friends was parked just outside the center’s gate. He took off when the security guards caught us. We were in enough trouble for that alone, but the staff also figured out that Paige and I weren’t taking our meds. Instead of being reprimanded and sent to our room, we were reprimanded and sent to separate observation cells. The isolation doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want my mind to fog over again. The drugs make me feel like I really am crazy.

After I stop struggling, the nurse leaves the room. There’s no way to take the IV out of my arm. My eyelids grow heavy, my vision blurs. I fight against the haze, but I lose the battle.

“McKenzie.” Kyol’s voice near my ear. A hallucination? That’s what I’ve been told I experience. I started agreeing with the counselors weeks ago. It seemed like the quickest, easiest way to get back to my life.

“McKenzie.” I’m afraid to open my eyes, afraid I’ll see nothing but the darkness if I do.

A soft, sweet pressure on my lips.

“Kyol?” I whisper. He’s here, leaning over me in a silhouette that’s etched in lightning. One hand cups my face, the other rests just above my left wrist. His touch is tender, but hot—tantalizing—and something stirring and electric runs through my body.

“You’re real,” I breathe. This must be how Snow White felt when her prince kissed away her sleep.

“I couldn’t find you,” he says, his thumb sliding over my cheek. “I thought another false-blood had taken you.”

I try to lift my arm, but I can’t. When he sees me struggling, he takes out his dagger, slices through the material binding my wrists, then he lifts me into a sitting position.

It’s too quick. Black spots swirl through my vision. I bite my lip, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When I’m able to focus again, I’m staring at my cut restraints. “They were Velcro.”

“What?” Kyol asks.

“Velcro.” Strong Velcro, but the dagger wasn’t needed.

I look up. Kyol stares at the IV bag, at me, then at the IV bag again. He grabs the plastic tubing and cuts through it. I watch the liquid drip onto the floor.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Medicine.”

His brow creases.

“We don’t have healers so we…we put plants in our veins.” I laugh, then cut it off short. God, my head is spinning. Too much of the drug made it into my system. The needle is still taped to my arm. I pull it out.

“Are you okay, McKenzie?”

I stare at the blood welling out of the tiny hole in my wrist. I don’t think I took it out right.

“I’m fine,” I say, swiping my arm across my clothes. I’m wearing Bedfont House’s standard-issue nightgown. It’s ugly, not much better than a hospital gown. “The door locks from the outside.”

“I’ve unlocked it.”

The knob turns smoothly. Since I’m wobbly, he puts an arm around my waist and guides me out of the cell. I enjoy being close to him way too much. He’s wearing fae armor—jaedric, I think it’s called—but it doesn’t hide the power in his body. He’s warm, safe, and even though we’re forbidden to be together, I’m almost certain I’m in love with him.

We’re almost to the door at the end of the corridor when my brain starts to function again. I tell Kyol to wait.

“I can’t leave without Paige.”

“What page?” he asks, following my gaze back down the hall.

“She’s my friend.” The only friend I have here. Probably the only friend I have period. Jessica, Kelly, all the people I used to hang out with abandoned me months ago. I can’t blame them. I stopped showing up at school meetings and quit two committees that really needed my help.