Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

I feel like a stupid kid again, all gangly, uncoordinated limbs. I nearly tangle myself in my covers as I clamber off the bed, never taking my eyes from him for fear he’ll disappear. Each step I take toward him makes him tighter, sharper, until his fingers turn white from how hard they clutch his crossed arms. A scant space between us.

“Well, Smith?” he asks, tilting his chin up those few inches so his lips are a breath from mine.

I can’t look away from his expectant face. He’s poised, waiting for me to say something, do something. His wears his boredom as armor, but I know it’s an illusion.

“Why did you help me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Roark. I talked to my mom and know about the harvest. You really expect me to believe anyone else could have done that?”

A hint of smug amusement breaks through his ennui at my angry compliment. “Fine. I may have had a hand in it.”

“But why? You had no reason to.”

A muscle in his jaw flexes. “I promised I would help. When something else came up, I believed it was more important. That was a mistake. I...I didn’t understand how much the delay would cost your family.”

“I tried to tell you,” I point out.

“I was busy.”

Busy. Such a polite euphemism. Frustrated by his sanitized version of events, I snap. “Don’t dance around it. You were torturing an innocent—”

“Stop saying that!” His eyes flash. “You don’t know who he was. You don’t know what he’s done or why we chose him. You’re a human. You have no right to justify or condemn decisions you know nothing about.”

“Then explain it to me.” I take a step back to give us both some breathing room and throw my arms wide. “Let me try to understand.” When he only glares at me in response, I drop my arms and try again. “Trust goes both ways, Roark. You can’t demand it from me if you don’t intend to practice it yourself.”

He grits his teeth. “Fine. We’re about to go to war. A war unlike anything we’ve fought before, one that could destroy our people. My brother Lugh brought us a Seelie gardener who had fallen out of Titania’s favor. He said he knew about Sláine, so we interrogated him.” His powerful, lean frame locks up and he gives me a look of disdain I haven’t seen since our first years living together. “And before you ask, yes, I bloodied my hands to get the information we needed out of him. We have no hope in this war unless we get my brother back. I would gladly do it again if it meant ensuring our survival.”

“Gladly? I don’t understand how you can enjoy inflicting that kind of pain.”

Though he tries to contain it, a bitter laugh cuts its way out of him. “You think I enjoy it? I cause pain, not to kill or maim, but to break down the barriers that keep me from getting the information I need. It’s evil, Smith. It’s evil, but it keeps my people safe, so I do it.”

And because of that, he considers himself irredeemable. Maybe what he’s done makes that true.

I don’t realize I’m rubbing the scars on my chest until he steps forward and pulls my hand away. He looks at my shirt for a long moment before he lets me go.

“It’s not the same.” He lifts his hand and reaches out, fingers trembling. I don’t move, afraid I’ll scare him into recreating the distance that had been between us. I may not agree with his choices, but he’s standing here with me, trying to explain. That’s more than I hoped for.

Cool fingertips press against my chest. He traces the scars left by Mab with unerring precision, though the fabric doesn’t give them away. It doesn’t matter; he’s tracing them by memory.

“You are not the same,” he clarifies. “She didn’t understand that and treated you like one of us. She chased your power, regardless of the cost. We’re... We aren’t as fragile. We can suffer more and survive.” His lips twist in a wry smile. “Even if we wish that weren’t true.”

It’s his final offer. An opportunity for me to walk away from the full darkness of his role and leave him to his suffering. It would be easier. But I’ve never taken the easy path. I will never understand his duties and how he shoulders them, but I don’t have to because they aren’t my burdens to bear. And it doesn’t mean I can’t be there to help carry him.

He shudders when I clasp his face with my hands. I thread my fingers into his hair, spread my thumbs down to caress his jaw, holding him lightly in place so I can let my head fall forward until my forehead rests against his.

There’s so much I could say, but there’s no point overcomplicating things. I keep it simple instead, an apology I know he’ll understand. “I should have trusted you.”

He sighs and the tension in his body eases, his hand dropping back to his side. “I never meant to hurt you.”

A tickle at my waist. He reaches for the hem of my shirt and skates his fingers over my bare skin.

Breathing hurts. Not breathing hurts more. Every part of me fixates on the way he rests his hands on my hips, fingers hooked in the band of my jeans, thumbs moving up and down along the muscle of my pelvis. He traces that V so many times I don’t think any other part of me exists.

“My watch broke,” he murmurs. He flushes a little, hiding his face. “That’s why I couldn’t make it to you in time.”

His grip tightens when he takes a shaky breath. “You said you wanted the truth. I had a watch, one made with iron, that isn’t affected by the magick of the sídhe. But it broke and I didn’t know what day it was and your parents had to tell me. That’s when I found out what had happened and knew I had to find you.”