Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

She swayed as if they were dancing. “I could ask after Irial. I could mention how wounded he is that you refuse his…counsel.”

“Bitch.”

“That’s all I get?” She glared at him. “A word? I come unbloodied. I come seeking you. I get a word? Is this how you treat me after—”

Niall punched her.

She tried to skewer his still-extended arm with the bone-white knife that she was now holding.

They were too fast for Seth to follow. What he could tell was that the faery was more than holding her own. In a few moments, Niall had a series of cuts that looked mostly shallow. He took her legs from under her, but she was up and on him before she even hit the ground.

In the blur of it, she appeared to have a raven’s beak and talons in addition to the short knife. The screeches from her beak-mouth were horrific sounds, battle cries that seemed like they should call the other faeries to her side. Instead, the faeries who’d come with her sat on tables and stools, watching silently.

Niall had her pinned briefly in an embrace of sorts—her back to his chest.

She stayed motionless for a moment. The look on her face was embarrassing to see: it was not unhappiness but an intimate sort of pleasure. She sighed. “You’re almost worth fighting.”

Then she flung her head backward into Niall’s face with such force that she bloodied his nose and mouth.

Niall didn’t release his hold, though. Instead, he loosed his right hand and cupped her head with it. He took her momentum and spun her to the ground. He kept her on the floor with one hand on her head and his body half on top of her. Niall stayed there, his body pinning the motionless faery.

She turned her bloodied face to his, and the two held each other’s gazes.

Uncomfortable, Seth looked away and realized that the waitress was standing beside him; she said something.

“What?”

The waitress spoke again. “Niall. I didn’t see him leave. Is he coming back?”

With a start, Seth remembered that she couldn’t see the faeries. Only he saw the fight. Only he saw them bloodied and tangled together. He nodded. “Yeah. He’ll be here.”

The waitress gave him an odd look. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just…you startled me.” He smiled. “Sorry.”

She nodded and moved on to another table.

Behind him, Seth heard Niall say, “My dear?”

Seth turned to see Niall stand and reach down to the faery. “Are we done?”

“Mmmm. Paused. Not done. Never done until you’re dead.” She took his hand and, with the liquid grace that characterized so many faeries, she came to her feet. Her eyes were unfocused as she gingerly touched her cheek. “That was good, my King.”

The Dark King nodded. He didn’t take his gaze away from her.

“I’ll come for you tonight,” she whispered in what was either a threat or a proposition.

Then she turned her head in a series of short jerky moves, locating each of the six red-palmed faeries unerringly. They moved in unison toward her. Without another word exchanged, the group left as suddenly as they’d arrived.

Niall glanced at Seth. “I’ll be right back.”

He left as well, and Seth sat there, stunned by the random violence and unsure what to think of it.

Seth realized that another person had seen the fight: a faery, invisible to Un-Sighted mortal eyes, stared at him from across the room. Coarse white hair was bound back into a tiny knot at the crown of his head. His features were sharp, angular in ways that made him seem carved. It was a different sort of sculpture than what Seth created, but in the instant, Seth’s hands itched for a block of dark stone to try to sculpt an opposite piece. The pale faery stood staring, and for a moment, Seth wondered if he was alive. He was so inflexible that the illusion of being carved was complete.

Once Niall returned a few minutes later, he was not so blood-covered. His glamour hid the state of his clothes and the cuts on his skin, so the only mortal in the room who saw that anything had changed was Seth.

When Niall sat down at the table again, Seth said, “Do you know him?”