Stopping Time and Old Habits (Wicked Lovely 2.50)

Irial kept his back to her while her emotions tumbled out of control. “I want to know why Bananach comes here.”

“To bring me news.” Sorcha began reasserting her self-control.

Enough indulging.

The former Dark King was kind enough to not look at her as she struggled with her emotions. He stared out the window as he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what news?”

“No. I won’t.” She took her seat again, calm and in control of her feelings.

“Did it have to do with Niall?” Irial looked at her then. This odd honesty they shared over the centuries was something she’d miss now that he was no longer the Dark King. No one save her brother and Irial saw this side of her.

“Not directly.”

“He’s a good king.” Irial wasn’t quite pleading, but he would for Niall. The devotion he had for the Gancanagh was one of his greatest weaknesses. She felt another twinge of envy that didn’t show on her face, but that Irial, of course, knew all the same.

“I have no mercy for the Dark King—regardless of which of you it is. That won’t change.”

“I don’t often ask favors of you, Sorch . . . your high-ness”—he bowed his head—“but please don’t support Bananach’s intent. She would destroy my . . . his court. She—”

“Irial?”

He looked up.

“She didn’t ask for that. And even if she had . . . my sister is not meant for ruling. She’d be a force of destruction that I cannot imagine. I’ve no quarrel with Niall”—she frowned—“aside from the usual objections to the mere existence of the Dark Court.”

And Irial smiled at her, as beautiful and deadly as he’d always been. King or not, he was still a force to fear. Like Bananach. Like the Summer Queen’s mortal. Often it was the solitary ones who were the most trouble; the tendency toward independence was not something that sat well with the High Queen. It was unorderly.

He was watching her, tasting the edges of her emotions and believing she was unaware of what he was doing. So she gave him the emotion he craved most from her: need. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t make the first move. She counted on him to do that. It absolved her of responsibility for the mistake she so wanted to make.

If he were to realize that she knew the Dark Court’s secret, their ability to feed on emotions, she’d lose these rare moments of not being reasonable. That was the prize she purchased with her silence. She kept her faeries out of the Dark Court’s reach, hid them away in seclusion—all for this.

The Queen of Reason closed her eyes, unable to look at temptation kneeling in front of her but unwilling to tell him to depart. She felt him remove the cord that bound her hair. Knew without looking that he stood gazing at her with the expression she wished she could just once see on another faery’s face.

“You need to say something or give me some clear answer. You know that.” His breath tickled her face, her throat. “You can still call it a horrible mistake later.”

She opened her eyes to stare directly into his abyss-dark gaze and whispered, “Or now?”

“Or now,” he agreed. He didn’t mock her weakness. He never did.

“Yes.” The word was barely from her lips before she wrapped her arms around him and gave up on being reasonable for a few hours.

Chapter 3

Sorcha sat and re-plaited her hair while Irial reclined on the floor next to her. He never provoked her or pointed out the truth of their relationship during these quiet moments. He didn’t even smoke his cigarettes so close to her. For all his shadows, he had a number of qualities that made her nights too often lonely over the years. No one but the Dark King had ever touched her heart so easily.

He was different this time, though, and she didn’t particularly like it. He wasn’t really hers, but he was the closest to hers that she’d ever had. “Is it Niall? Are you back in his good graces?”

“No. I consider myself fortunate that he even speaks to me these days.” He looked so wounded that she reached out and caressed his arm briefly.

“You do fall in love with the least acceptable people,” she said.

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with anyone, even you. I enjoy how you make me feel. There’s a big difference.” The admission made her sad, but falling in love was so very unorderly. It wouldn’t do for the High Queen to get caught up in the melodrama of falling in love.

“You wound me,” he said.

“Not likely.” She gave him a genuine smile before picking up her garments from the floor. She held the pale cloth to her chest and turned her back to him. He moved her braid over her shoulder and fastened the tight bindings.