Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

wide-open plain. “My will is all that matters here.”

“Perhaps you might want to remember which court once held equal sway in Faerie?” He stared at the space beside her. His brow furrowed in concentration, but it worked. The Dark King smiled as an obsidian mirror, shadows made solid, reached up from the dry earth at their feet. It wasn’t much, but it was there.

The tempting cadence of Niall’s voice revealed his pleasure as he remarked, “I might be new to this court, but I watched you well once upon a time. I learned more of your secrets than I’ve told anyone.”

“Do you threaten me?”

“If I must.” Niall shrugged. “I can bring my court here. I can take him back. Being the Dark King gives me the right to rule equally in Faerie.”

“It would be foolish. I”—she took a small breath and the world around them shifted—“would crush you if you stood against me. You are a babe.”

“There are people worth fighting for.”

“We are partway in accord there: Seth is worth much. Fighting me is not the right answer.” She gestured around them. They stood in an austere temple. Niall’s obsidian mirror was flanked by ornate pillars. In the space behind her an altar heaped with carnage stood large. She didn’t need to look to know it was there. “Is that what you’ll offer Bananach? Your foolhardy compliance? You come here and behave impudently. Why do you think she brought him to me? He was a sacrifice to start her war.”

“Seth is not a sacrifice to start or avoid war. He is not disposable.”

“I know,” Sorcha whispered, not in fear but because sharing truths wasn’t something she did lightly. “I will keep him safe, as you would realize if you were thinking clearly. Should Bananach—or anyone—strike him, they strike me.”

Niall paused at that declaration. The anger fled from his face. “Ash…Aislinn…does not know where he is. Yet. If she learns that you’ve taken him, she’ll come here.”

“Her king will not tell her.” Sorcha knew that Keenan, that all of the faeries who were thinking clearly, knew precisely where Seth was. “It is not my responsibility—or of interest—to tell her. Nor is it yours, else you’d have done so.”

Sorcha held out her hand.

Niall, still the gentleman, took her hand and directed it to the fold of his arm. “What game are you playing, Sorcha?”

“The same one I’ve been playing my whole life, Gancanagh.”

For a few moments, Niall said nothing. Finally, he turned to face her and said, “I want to see Seth. I need to hear from him that he is well.”

“As you will. He has been resting for the past several days. When I think him ready, you may see him, but not before. He is mine to protect.”

“What did you do?”

“What needed done, Niall. That’s what I always do,” she said. Their courts might exist to oppose each other, but that didn’t make them true enemies. It was about balance. Everything was. On occasion she might have even tipped the scales to assure that the Dark Court was nourished enough to stay healthy—never too healthy, of course, but strong enough to serve its function. That was what Faerie required, and although she was not their monarch while they were in the mortal realm, she still was the Unchanging Queen.

“Was his oath freely given?”

There was such hope in his voice that she almost wished she could lie to Niall. She couldn’t, though. “It was. I do not tempt and misdirect, not like you.”

“I’ve never tried to tempt you, Sorcha. Even when I thought you might be the answer I sought.”

“More’s the pity,” she murmured as she left him to find his way to his room. He was a worthy king, one who could bring the Dark Court back to what it could be, but he wasn’t a threat to her court, not today, not yet. In time he would be, but Niall wasn’t truly there as the Dark King. He was there as Seth’s friend, which meant he’d not abuse her court or her good will on this visit.

When Seth woke to find his queen standing in his room, his first reaction was gratitude: she’d saved him from mortality, given him a gift beyond words. Nothing he could do would be too much to repay her. She was stretching as she stared at the garden outside the window. It looked like the move of someone who had slept uncomfortably. Which is nonsense. The High Queen had no reason to be staying near him in any uncomfortable position, but Seth still looked at the muted green chair that sat near the window.

Sorcha didn’t turn to face him. Instead she pushed open the windows and reached outside to twist several blossoms off. “You’ve been unaware for six days,” she said by way of greeting. “Your body had changes to accept. This was easier for you.”

He stretched. He felt almost as bad as when he woke in the hospital after the last Winter Queen had almost killed him. He was sore, weak, and surprised that he’d slept—or been unconscious—for the worst of it.

“But I’m not just a mortal now?”

Sorcha smiled. “You were never ‘just a mortal,’ Seth. You’re an anomaly.”

He quirked a brow, which made him increasingly aware of a screaming headache that was growing worse by the moment. “I was a mortal.”

“Yes, but you matter in ways that you don’t see.”