Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

“Is it so wrong to want a queen who loves me?”

“No,” she whispered. “But it’s not working to want two queens to love you.”

“If you were my queen—”

“But I wasn’t.” She laid her

head on his shoulder.

They sat there like that, leaning together carefully, until morning came.

CHAPTER 4

Sorcha had summoned Devlin after breaking her fast. True to form, he was there within mere moments. In their eternity together, her brother had never been anything other than reliable and predictable.

He stood just inside the doorway, silent as she crossed the expanse of the hall. Her bare feet made no sound as she stepped onto the dais and sat upon the single polished silver throne. From here, the cavernous hall was beautiful. There was a symmetry of design that was pleasing to behold. This room—and only this room—did not fold under her will. The Hall of Truth and Memory was impervious to any magic but its own. Once, when the Dark Court resided in Faerie, this was where inter-court disputes were resolved. Once, when they shared Faerie, this was where sacrifices were made. The slate-gray stones held those, and many more, memories.

Sorcha slid her feet over the cool earth and rock upon which her throne was placed. When one lived for eternity, memory grew hazy at times. The soil helped her keep focus on Faerie; the rock tied her to the truth of the Hall.

Devlin wouldn’t move until she was settled. In some ways, her adherence to order and rules was essential to Devlin. The structure helped him keep to the path he’d chosen. For her, order was instinctive; for him, it was a choice he made every breath of every day.

The words were rote, but he said them all the same: “Are you receiving, my lady?”

“I am.” She settled her skirt so that the bare tips of her feet were hidden. Silver threads shimmered in her hands and on her cheeks; they shimmered elsewhere that she’d sometimes reveal, but her bare feet stayed covered. The proof of the nature of her connection to the Hall was not something to show her court.

“May I approach?”

“Always, Devlin,” she reassured him again, as she had for longer than either of them could recall. “Even without asking, you are welcome.”

“You honor me with your trust.” He dropped his gaze to her concealed feet. He knew the truth she shared with none other. Reason made clear to both of them that her trust in him was going to be the source of her stumbling someday. Reason also made clear that there wasn’t a better choice: trusting him secured his loyalty.

And we haven’t fallen yet.

He was her eyes and hands in the mortal realm. He was her violence in times when such a thing was needed. But he was also Bananach’s brother—a fact that none of the three of them ever forgot. Devlin saw their sister regularly; he cared for the mad raven-faery, even though her aims were utterly disorderly. His affection for their sister made it so that no amount of time or service could erase Sorcha’s slivers of doubts in his loyalty.

Will he side with her someday? Does he now?

“Dark fey have drawn the blood of one of your mortals…on Faerie soil,” Devlin began. “Will you judge them?”

“I will.” Again, the words were rote: she always judged. It was what Reason did.

Devlin turned to retrieve the accused and the witnesses, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

“After this I need you to visit the mortal world. There is a mortal who walks among three courts untethered,” she said.

He bowed. “As you wish.”

“War thinks he is key.”

“Would you have me eliminate the mortal or retrieve him?”

“Neither.” Sorcha wasn’t sure what the right move was just yet, but hasty action wasn’t it. “Bring me information. See what I cannot.”

“As you will.”

She refocused on the trial. “Bring them in.”

Moments later, four Ly Ergs were brought into the room by guards under Devlin’s command. In the land of mortals, the red-palmed faeries’ habit of drawing blood wasn’t a concern; out there, most of the depravities that happened weren’t Sorcha’s concern. However, these four weren’t in the mortal world.