far fairer fight. Sword clashed upon sword, the only other sounds the quiet grunting of our breath. The shadows were eerily silent.
And then the last of the shadows were dead, and the hall was silent.
“What kind of trouble did you bring with you?” Arlen demanded, staring around at all of us.
“Faer’s trying to reach her,” Azrael said. “Trying to stop her before she can get her memories back.”
The conversation faded for me as I turned to find Tiron still lying with his back against the wall. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but he tried to smile when I dropped to my knees beside him.
“We’ve got to heal him,” I said urgently.
“Tried,” he said, his fingers pressed into the bloody gouge, which was still pumping blood steadily. “Something poisonous… slowing the healing. But it did a little.”
“I’ll go get Fenig,” Raura said. “She’ll want to know what happened here.”
Azrael nodded, watching her go, then gave Arlen a hard look. “How is it that the three of you happened to be so close when we needed help?”
Arlen gave him a cold smile. “I was on watch, walking the defenses and heard a girlish scream.”
Duncan shoved him against the wall.
“Relax,” Azrael said. “They’re friends. Assholes, but friends.”
Tiron smiled faintly at the thought. Duncan reluctantly nodded an apology at Arlen—barely moving his head—and Arlen nodded just as faintly back.
Duncan raked his hand through his hair, his face still livid. He hated seeing Tiron hurt, no matter how glib he always was.
“Hang in there,” I told Tiron, covering his hand with mine.
I raised my magic, forming a warm golden glow under my fingers that melted into his skin. He said softly, “Feels like summer.”
“Yeah, so did those shadow knights with the poisoned blades,” Lake said.
“What does that mean?” I demanded. “The shadow knights are definitely Faer’s? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Azrael said reluctantly. “If the stories are true…”
Duncan scoffed at that. Right now we had pretty convincing evidence that the stories were true; Tiron was bleeding uncontrollably right in front of us.
“Then the shadows are the dark side of summer’s power,” Azrael finished. “All that light creates darkness too. The summer king is supposed to be able to call on the shadows and the Shadow Man according to the old legends but…”
“But some of us would rather not believe in them,” Duncan finished.
“The Shadow Man and his knights haven’t been seen in hundreds of years,” Azrael said. “Scholars thought even if they were real—and there was some doubt—that no one was strong enough to call on them.”
Great. Faer as an even-more powerful enemy; what a lovely idea.
“But Herrick did terrible things to extend his magic,” Azrael added, “and Faer seems to have inherited all that power somehow. So perhaps he can control the Shadow Man.”
“Faer doesn’t want you to get your memories back,” Tiron told me. “He must know you’ll be on our side.”
Even now, when my magic wasn’t enough to staunch his bleeding, he was trying to take care of me. He spoke to the biggest fear we all had; that with my memories restored, I’d take Faer’s side. That I could be as much a villain as he was.
“Stop worrying about me,” I said, his face blurring as tears welled in my eyes. I hated seeing Tiron hurt.
“Hey, hey,” he said, his hand cupping my cheek. “Come here.”
He wrapped his arm around me. Duncan looked away, a muscle fluttering his cheek as if he were about to lose his mind.
“Don’t let guilt crush you,” Tiron whispered in my ear.
“But this is my fault,” I whispered. “All of it. The autumn court. Azrael’s nightmares. You…”
“We all make our choices,” Tiron whispered. “Whatever you did in the past doesn’t mean anything to me. You just have to make the best choice you can now.”
“You got hurt protecting me.”
“That was my best choice.” He winked at me. “You’re worth it.”
Raura ran back down the hallway, followed by Fenig and two more of the sisters. Their feet were almost silent on the long stone floors. As the sisters surrounded Tiron, jostling me out of the way,
I rose to my feet and stepped back reluctantly. The golden glowing strands that swirled around my fingers sparked, then died.
“Poisoned, yes.” One of them looked up at Fenig. “We can get the toxin out of his system, but it will take time.”
“How long?” Azrael demanded.
The sister answered Fenig, not him. “Days.”
“We don’t have days,” Azrael said. “We’ve got to get out of here before more shadows find us. Before…”
He trailed off, but his