Free The Shadow Reader by Sandy Williams

me on the tabletop, fingers the drawstring pouch tied to her belt, and gazes at the overgrown trailhead cutting through the dense tree line. She’s been doing that for three days now, gazing at the trail. At first, I thought she was waiting for Aren to return. I haven’t seen him since he deposited me in my room and, despite burning curiosity, I haven’t asked where he is. Now I’m not so sure he’s the reason for Kelia’s constant head-turning, not unless she has a crush on him. I’m pretty sure Lena’s in love with the guy—I suspect there are very few fae who wouldn’t want to jump into bed with him—but Kelia never sounds love-struck when she mentions Aren’s name. Maybe she’s worried about the Court finding this place? I can only hope.
    As I pick at a thick splinter on the edge of the table, my mood plummets. This is one of the reasons I’ve managed to endure three full days of language cramming. If I let my mind go idle, inevitably I get depressed. It’s been four days now and I’m certain no one misses me back home, not even Paige, who is used to my long, sporadic absences. Those absences are the reason why I live alone in an apartment a couple miles from campus. I tried the dorm thing back when I was a freshman, but after being caught one too many times talking to myself—fae almost always choose to remain invisible to normal humans—my roommate requested to be transferred.
    I flick the splinter I tore from the table away and search for a distraction. Anything to take my mind off my life.
    “Aren,” I say, grabbing hold of the first image that pops into my head. “Will he come back?”
    Kelia snorts. “Probably.”
    “Where did he go?”
    “The Realm.” Her response is short, like she’s closing the door to future questions about the false-blood. Or rather, the false-blood’s decoy, if I’m to believe Sethan.
    “How long have you known him?” I ask.
    She stops fiddling with the pouch on her belt and eyes me. “You haven’t mentioned his name in three days. Why the sudden interest?”
    I shrug.
    “Do you miss him?”
    This time, it’s my turn to frown. “Of course not.”
    “Most women fawn over him,” she says.
    Is she actually suggesting I like his company? “He kidnapped me.”
    She tilts her head to the side. “You don’t think he’s attractive?”
    “He’s fae.” The words tumble out. Not agreement or denial, but they’re as heavy as a lie on my tongue.
    Kelia’s face darkens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “We don’t belong in each other’s worlds, let alone each other’s beds,” I recite, my voice sounding as desolate as Kyol’s the day he made the same statement to me.
    “You believe that?” she asks.
    I force out an empty, “Yes.”
    Kelia’s tone turns acidic. “You’re just like the others.” She rises off the picnic table. “If you need a break, you can take it in your room.”
    She starts to walk toward the inn, but stops midstride and pales. I follow her gaze to the trailhead.
    A bruised and bloodied Trev limps into the clearing. Edarratae flash beneath a thick layer of dirt to disappear under a ripped and blood-soaked tunic. I haven’t seen Trev since the night I read his shadows. Including Kelia and Lena, only five fae remained at the inn. They’ve been watching me like hawks from the front porch all afternoon, but now they abandon their posts and sprint to the wounded rebel.
    Kelia reaches him an instant before the others. Her words are panicked. Trev shakes his head, his expression grim. I understand a few words . . . Court . . . heal . . . gate , but then they’re all talking at once and too quickly for me to decipher. It doesn’t matter, though. The important thing is they’re 100 percent engaged in their discussion. No one’s so much as thrown a glance in my direction, and the eastern edge of the clearing is no more than ten little-itty-bitty feet away from me.
    I don’t think. I run. Three long strides and I’m engulfed