Ink Exchange (Wicked Lovely 2)

“Our boy’s not as quick to forgive as you are.” Irial smiled, a sad smile that made her want to ask questions.

She didn’t. She moved, trying to find a comfortable position that made the pain on her back less awful. She was glad it was there, but it still brought tears to her eyes when she moved. “I couldn’t watch people die for me. Or whatever else you weren’t telling me.”

“It would’ve been worse in time,” he admitted. It wasn’t an apology, but she hadn’t really expected one.

“Do I want to know?”

He lit one of his seemingly constant cigarettes, watching her in a way that was almost comforting in its familiarity. Then he made a dismissive gesture with his hand, the cherry of the cigarette waving in the air as he did so. “War, more effort on the drug front, an increase in the number of dark fey kept nearer to me. Maybe a bit of negotiation with Far Dorcha’s fey in the sex and death markets.”

“Would I have survived it?”

“It’s possible.” He shrugged. “You were doing pretty well. Most of the mortals don’t stay conscious as long as you did. And since it was me that you were bound to…you really might have. I wanted you to survive.”

“I’ve talked to Ash, and if you take another mortal—”

“Are you threatening me, love?” He grinned at her.

“No. I’m telling you that I don’t want you to replace me.”

His smile faded. “Well, then…and if I do?”

“Then Ash will work with the other one, the Winter Queen, and they’ll threaten you, hurt our—your—court.” She watched him, not sure that her approach was the right one, but certain that she couldn’t let someone else suffer like she had. “But here’s the thing they don’t get: I don’t want you to be hurt. It would hurt me. If you let some other mortal channel that awfulness for you, that would hurt me. What they’ll do to you when they find out, that will hurt me.”

“And?”

“And you promised me that you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.” She waited as he sat staring at her, smoking silently. Leslie’s friendship with Aislinn might not be anywhere near repaired, but if the advice she’d given Leslie worked, it would go a long way toward setting things right. For now, that was Leslie’s goal: getting things put to rights—her life, her future, and if she could, things with those who mattered to her. Irial was still on that list.

“The Dark Court is what it is. I won’t tell them to change their natures to appease—”

“You’re playing word games, Irial.” She gestured for him to come closer.

His surprise was enough to offset her twinge of fear. He ground out his cigarette and moved over to sit on the sofa, near enough to touch—but not actually touching her.

She turned so they were facing each other. “You gave me your vow, Irial. I get that now. I’m telling you what will happen if you let them wound you: you will be hurting me, and if you know that and still take another mortal…What you are, what you do isn’t my business, but doing another ink exchange, starting wars in my world, killing mortals, that is my business, and if my caring for you means that you can’t do it…I’ll admit that I still care.”

He reached for her and she didn’t flinch. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his kisses. It was Irial who stopped.

“You aren’t lying.” He gave her the strangest look, a bit like awe and a bit like fear.

Having her autonomy back was a beautiful thing. And she realized that how she felt about Irial hadn’t changed all that much.

“Tell me what you feel for me?” she asked.

He backed up just a little, no longer holding her. “Why?”

“Because I asked.”

“I’m glad you won’t end up comatose or dead,” he said, his tone revealing nothing.

“And?” She watched him wrestle with his temptation to tell her. If he didn’t want to, she couldn’t make him.

“If you wanted to stay…”

“I can’t.” She squeezed his hand. “That’s not an emotion, by the way; it’s an offer. You of all people know the difference. What I’m asking—and you’re avoiding—is whether you still care for me now that we’re not connected. Was it just the ink exchange?”

“The only thing that’s changed is that you’re free of me and I’m left trying to figure out how to feed my court properly.” He lit another cigarette and gave her his answer. “It was the exchange at first, but…that wasn’t all. I do care for you. Enough to let you leave.”

“So…” she prompted, needing the words.