All the air in Seth’s lungs seemed to vanish.
Is it her or what she is? He’d wondered that more and more. He’d never really done the relationship thing before Aislinn, so trying to figure out what was normal was a challenge. Was the escalation of fascination normal? Or was it because he was in love with someone who wasn’t human anymore? He’d done enough reading of old folk stories the past months to know that humans could rarely resist a faery’s allure.
Is that what’s happening to me?
But Aislinn was slipping into his arms then. When she brought her lips to his, he couldn’t care less about why he was fascinated by her, or if Niall’s warnings were true, or what Keenan intended. All that mattered was that he and Aislinn were together. Sunlight soaked into his skin as she wrapped her arms around him.
He held on to her tighter than he would’ve before—when she was human. He couldn’t grasp her tightly enough to ever hurt her, not now that she was faery.
Her hands slid up his spine, and she let a trickle of sunlight into her skin as she touched him. Such boldness in public was uncharacteristic.
He broke their kiss. “Ash?”
She pulled back a little more, and he shivered at the loss.
Like the sun being taken away.
“Sorry.” A light blush colored her cheeks.
He didn’t have any faith in his ability to formulate a sentence yet.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.
“You too.” Seth promised. Always.
She nestled into his arms with a little sigh. She wasn’t a queen, wasn’t a faery, wasn’t anyone but his Aislinn then.
“You okay?”
“I am now.”
Not a minute later, though, she tensed. Although Aislinn couldn’t see Keenan, she obviously knew that he stood behind her. Whatever connection they had was growing stronger, and it wasn’t making life any easier.
For his part, Keenan’s expression hinted at confusions he wouldn’t voice. Aislinn’s residual humanity, her ability to switch from ruler to just a girl, seemed to baffle Keenan. Seth had watched him try to make sense of Aislinn’s refusal to distance herself from the human world. It was a strength: the people she saw benefiting from her dedication to rebuilding Summer’s strength inspired her to do more. But it was also a weakness: time with mortals reminded her of the unpleasant differences between mortal and fey and kept her aloof from her faeries. That distance was the source of a rift in the court, a vulnerability that caused more than a little rumbling.
Added to that were tensions from Aislinn’s refusal to be a “proper queen” and Keenan’s ongoing relationship with Donia; the court was stronger, but it was not healed.
Seth knew it would change with time—especially as the mortals Aislinn loved aged and died—but Keenan was openly dissatisfied by any weaknesses that could endanger Aislinn. The strengthening faeries’ frustrations with their monarchs’ choices made Keenan worry about what would happen as those faeries grew bolder. That worry for Aislinn was one of the few things that Seth appreciated about the Summer King. Keenan did treasure Aislinn. He wanted to keep her safe and happy.
He also wants to keep her to himself.
“You ought to step away, Keenan. I see what you’re doing. I’ve watched you play these games for centuries.” Niall’s voice was suddenly smoke and shadows. “Try thinking about what others need for a change.”
“I don’t believe what I do now is any of your business.” Keenan maneuvered so that he was farther from Aislinn and facing Niall. In doing so, the Summer King had put his back to the brick wall—assuring that no one could come up behind him.
“If you hurt Seth”—Niall shot a smile at Seth—“it will be.”
“He isn’t of your court.”
Derision dripping from his voice, the Dark King said, “Only an ass would think that matters. Leslie is lost to me. Your queen’s friend, and you let her be corrupted—”
“By the Dark Court, your court, Niall.” Keenan glanced at Aislinn, at Seth, at the various mortals in the room. In the dim alcove where they stood, the conflict wasn’t attracting any attention yet.
“It is my court, and with all I’ve learned from the two twisted kings I’ve loved and lived for, it won’t ever bow to yours. Don’t try me, Keenan.” Niall stalked toward Keenan, closing the distance, menace clinging to his skin. “Hurt Seth and you will answer to me.”
Keenan didn’t speak.
“Tell me you hold no ill will toward him, Keenan.” Niall’s voice had dropped to a low growl that Seth hadn’t known resided in his friend. Beside the Dark King, the abyss maidens took form and swayed; their bodies were tongues of black flame, twisting and undulating. Seth knew they were capable of devastation if let loose, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. In a part of himself he tried to keep hidden, there was rage at Keenan and excitement at the thought that Niall would slap Keenan down. Which isn’t cool. Seth kept those urges in check these days. He’d worked hard at becoming the person he was now. He didn’t indulge in fights or one-night stands; he didn’t get stupidly drunk or set out to try things just because they were forbidden. He was calm—even when it wasn’t his instinctual reaction.
“Niall?” Seth let go of Aislinn and stepped around the abyss dancers. “Chill.”
“He doesn’t speak, does he, Seth?” Niall had curled his hands into fists.
“I know where I stand.” Seth knew Keenan had mixed feelings. He hadn’t acted to injure Seth, but it would be a surprise if he hadn’t considered it. At length. Probably with Tavish advising him on the risks. Seth wasn’t going there, though; it didn’t help things. “I don’t need to hear his answer.”
“Ash does.” Niall’s posture was still, but shadows rippled out from him onto the brick wall behind Keenan. The black bars could solidify into a cage. “Back away, Seth. Please.”
Seth moved farther from the small space where the two kings stood glaring at each other. After seeing the conflict with the raven-faery, Seth was aware that standing between these two was a bad idea. Mortals are too fragile. The thought disgusted him, but it was true. I am too easily broken by them. By all of them.
“Keenan wouldn’t hurt Seth,” Aislinn murmured. She came over and took Seth’s hand. “I wouldn’t forgive that, and he knows it.”
Niall spared her a censorious glance. “Really?”
Sunbeams flickered around her as she became irritated with Niall. “Yes, really.”
They all paused at a commotion in the doorway. Summer Court guards were attempting to refuse entrance to a group of heavily decorated faeries. It didn’t work. Gabriel, the Hound who was the left hand of the Dark Court, sauntered in. With him were six other Hounds—including Chela, Gabriel’s rough and strangely sweet mate—and Gabriel’s half-mortal daughter Ani. The tread of Gabriel’s feet reverberated through the floor. The wave of fear the Hounds brought in their wake rippled across the room.
And Seth was once more grateful for the anti-glamour charm Niall had given him. He might be breakable, but he was not susceptible to the Hounds’ fear, to any of their glamours. Donia had given him the Sight, but that only allowed him to See them. Niall gave him protection from the way they could toy with his emotions.
“Gabe,” Seth said, not sure if the Hounds’ arrival was good news or not. They weren’t known for counseling caution or calm. “Good to see you…I think.”
Gabriel laughed. “We’ll see.”
Chela winked. “Mortal.”
Niall didn’t look away from Keenan. “You hurt Seth, and I will not forgive you. He’s my friend, under the Dark Court’s protection.”
“Keenan is not going to hurt Seth,” Aislinn interjected. “And our court keeps him safe already. He doesn’t need you.”
Keenan gave a bland look to Niall and then asked Seth, “Do you offer fealty to the Dark Court, Seth Morgan?”
“No.”
“Do you offer it to the Summer Court?”
Seth felt
Aislinn tense beside him. “No, but I wouldn’t turn down friendship with either if it’s offered.”
“There’s a cost….” Keenan’s guileless expression was disingenuous, a sort of lie. “Pain, sex, blood, there are many horrible prices the Dark Court can demand. Are you going to be willing to pay what they ask for to buy protection?”
“Seth?” The worry in Aislinn’s voice was real. She was the only one in the room who might believe that Keenan was trying to help Seth.
In offering his court’s friendship, Niall had thrown an unasked-for lifeline, not a trap. Seth got that. Even if she doesn’t see it. A court’s friendship was more than just Niall’s friendship: it meant that those who swore fealty to that throne would act as if he were one of their own. It meant he’d have many of the benefits of belonging to a court without the obligations or duties. Considering how vulnerable he was, it meant he had strength to call upon—from a court that many of the solitaries, the High Court, and the Summer Court feared. Even if it didn’t irritate Keenan, it would be appealing.
“It’s cool,” Seth assured Aislinn. “Niall is my friend.”
“The friendship of not just the Dark King but the Dark Court is offered, to be paid with blood and no other coin,” Niall said. His eyes held fear that Seth would reject his offer.
“Accepted.” Seth stretched his wrist out in front of him and waited. He didn’t reach toward Niall or the Hounds. The details of what would follow were utterly unclear to him. Most everyone there could draw blood without a blade, but they also all carried weapons of some sort. It was doubtful that anyone other than Niall would bleed him, and even if they did, Seth trusted that Gabriel and Chela—the two next highest-ranking dark faeries—would be cautious with his safety.
Only Keenan means me harm.
“I trust you,” Seth said—to Niall, to the Hounds.
“I am honored.” Niall leaned in and lowered his voice to say, “But Dark Kings really don’t resist temptation very well.”
Then, with a wicked grin, he turned and slammed his fist into Keenan’s face with enough force that the Summer King’s head hit the brick wall with a loud thud.
In a breath, the faeries all became invisible.
Aislinn rushed to Keenan’s side as he crumpled and fell.
The Hounds surged forward to stand like a wall of menace alongside Niall.
The abyss dancers shimmied.
And Niall licked his knuckles. “Sealed and paid with blood. The rules don’t say it has to be your blood, Seth.”
CHAPTER 9
Aislinn put herself between Keenan and Niall before the thought to protect her king had even finished forming. “Stop.”
“You don’t want to try me right now.” Niall turned his back on her and started to walk away.
She followed. On some level she understood that her temper was propelling her to act foolishly, but it didn’t matter. Her king was wounded at this faery’s hand. She had to strike out at anyone who would attack their court; she had to crush anyone who would weaken them.
Niall’s action isn’t about the court, though. Niall and Keenan hadn’t resolved their conflicts, and Niall believed that Keenan was a threat to Seth. This is personal, not court. Logic tried to interfere with impulse. But Keenan is hurt.
She took hold of Niall’s arm. The smell of sizzling skin was instant. Her sunlight had flared brighter than she realized.
Niall didn’t flinch. Instead he drew his arm—and therefore her—tight to his body. Her fingers were pressed against his chest, burning small holes in his shirt. Instead of pulling away from her, he held her close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Once she did, Niall said, “My court would like more conflict with yours…and I”—he smiled—“I have to wonder if they’re right.”
“Let go.” She tugged her hand and concentrated so she was no longer injuring him.
He gripped her wrist. “Any blood would’ve done the trick, but I wanted his. I’m not in violation of any laws for doing it. And, really? I suspected I’d enjoy it more this way”—he looked beyond her and grinned at Keenan lying prone on the ground—“and I did.”
Then he released her.
She backed away carefully. “You hurt him.”
“And you injured me. The difference, Aislinn, is that I’d do it every day if I could find justification. Would you?” Niall didn’t sound like the same faery who’d helped her get used to her new role as Summer Queen, and he surely didn’t sound like the faery who’d wooed Leslie. Those faces were gone, and what stood in front of her was a faery that rivaled the worst of the ones she’d hid from as a child.
Her sunlight barely in check, she glared at him. “I’m not the one starting fights.”
“Shall I start one? Really start the conflict they crave? My court whispers and chants tales of what we could do while your court is still weak. It grows hard not to listen.” His dark dancers swayed around him like shadows come to life. Gabriel and several other Hounds stood waiting.
This could get uglier than we can handle.
They hadn’t brought a lot of people with them. She wasn’t expecting trouble. Sure, there were rumblings of discord, but faeries were always in small dissentions. The court rulers kept that in check. Niall had been one of the good guys. Donia was one of the good guys. The two courts that had caused trouble for hers were both led by faeries who’d been confidants—and more—to Keenan. He’d trusted that their past would protect the Summer Court. He knew they were out of sorts, but he hadn’t thought it was severe enough to lead to any true problems. It’s not the way faery courts work, Aislinn, he’d assured her. We aren’t so quick to strike out, he’d promised. And she’d believed him—until now.
“Do I frighten you, Ash?” Niall’s voice was a low whisper, as if they were the only two people in the room. “Do I remind you of why you thought we were monsters?”
“Yes.” Her own voice came out shaky.
“Good.” He glanced to the side of her, where a wall of shadows had formed. Outside that wall lay the only faery there, other than her, who could tear down those shadows, but she wasn’t sure how to, and Keenan was unconscious on the ground.
As if the detail were of only casual interest, Niall added, “Your king never learned to fight. He had me and all the rest to do it for him.”
The wall of shadows grew and enclosed the two of them in a bubble. She pushed against it; the texture was simultaneously feathery and slick. New moon. Hunger. Fear. The touch of it made her shiver. Need. Drowning under black waves of need. Teeth.
She jerked her hand away and forced herself to focus on the conversation. “Why are you doing this?”
“Protecting the mortal you love?” Niall shook his head. “I won’t have Keenan break him too, and you’ve proven that you won’t defend your friends from him. You’re good for your court, but your mortals…”
“Your court did that to Leslie.”
“And you could’ve saved her. If you’d offered her your court’s protection before he took her—” He broke the sentence off with a growl. “You failed her just as you’ll fail Seth.”
“I made mistakes, but I would never hurt Seth. I love him.” Aislinn felt her own temper getting less stable. Niall had trapped her, struck her king, and intimated that Seth was vulnerable because of her. Earlier she’d hurt Niall by accident, lack of control, but now…now, she wanted to hurt him. Severely. Her temper was flaring, and in that moment, she saw no reason to try to control it. The air inside the shadow bubble was growing blisteringly hot. She could taste acrid desert air, sand against her lips.
“Strike me, Ash. Go ahead. Give me leave to let my court loose on yours. Convince me that I should let them torture your frail Summer Girls. Invite me to permit them to draw rowan blood,” he whispered in a tone meant for bedrooms and candlelight. That was the nature of the Dark Court, though—violence and sex, fear and lust, anger and passion. He reached out and caressed her cheek as he added, “Allow me to give in to their desires.
”
Irial was less dangerous to us. That was Niall’s weak spot—Irial. Stop treating him like a friend. Don’t think of him like a mortal. Her mind tangled trying to figure what move made sense here. So much she’d learned about faeries was no longer useful. She’d long since surrendered the ability to live by most of the rules Grams had taught her. One rule was still helpful though: If I run, they’ll chase.
She came closer, advancing on him. “The last Dark King thought to tempt me. Here. In this same place…”
Niall laughed, looking almost joyous for a brief flash, but that pleasure was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “If he’d truly tried, he would’ve had you. He didn’t try you, Ash…you were a momentary distraction, a quick flirt. Irial’s just that way.”
“Keenan says you’re like Irial—a Gancanagh. He didn’t explain that to me before,” she admitted, not proud of her king’s deceits or the results, but willing to be honest. “Are you still? Are you addictive?”
“Why? You want a taste?”
Something feral waited. She saw it under the thin veneer of civility that was still Niall. It wasn’t a surface she wanted to crack. Logic warned her away, but she didn’t heed it. “So we really should start treating You like Irial….”
“No”—Niall put his hand on her shoulders and pushed her until she was crushed between the wall of shadows and him—“you should remember that Irial didn’t really want to hurt Keenan. I do. I only need an excuse. Will you give me one, Ash?”
The feel of that wall behind her body was overwhelming. Dangerous temptations whispered on her skin; things she would rather not consider came rushing to her mind. Keenan under my hands. Mine. Not just a taste, but drowning in him. It wasn’t a Dark Court faery she wanted, but it was Dark Court energy that made her mind go places it really shouldn’t. Dark Court temptations made her think of the faery she wanted, not the mortal she loved. Her heart felt too fast in her chest as the shadows pulled her under her fears and lust.
“I want—” She bit down on her lip, not speaking those words, not admitting that she thought of Keenan in that instant.