The High Queen stopped and turned around. The assessing gaze she leveled at him reminded Seth that this faery had existed since before he could fathom, before—by her admission—she could remember. He wasn’t yet old enough to legally drink, and although he’d been on his own for a couple of years, he had lived only a moment compared to her.
“Do not vex me, Seth.” Sorcha closed the distance between them and brushed his hair back. “I am well aware that you were influential in encouraging that Hound and Devlin to create a new court. I do not forget that you had a role in barring me from the mortal world.”
“I want you to be safe,” he reminded her.
“And unable to reach the mortal world.” She kept her hand on his head. “You are mine. You matter to me as no one else ever has, but it would be wise of you to remember that I am not mortal. Don’t forget that when you make such decisions in the future.”
“I didn’t forget any of it. I also won’t forget that you love me enough to destroy your world.” Seth put his hand over hers. “Don’t threaten me, Mother. I’m bound by our agreement to come to Faerie every year for the rest of eternity, but I’m not bound to love you. I do love you, but you are not the only one in my heart.”
They stood for several moments, and then the High Queen nodded. “Be careful of Niall’s temper . . . please?”
“He is my brother. It will be fine,” Seth promised, and then he left her and went in search of the Shadow King.
Chapter 6
“He will not wake,” the new healer said.
Niall’s abyss-guardians flashed into existence at the pronouncement.
“Get the next healer,” the Dark King ordered.
A Hound whose name he couldn’t recall nodded. With a quick look at the Dark King, she grabbed the offending faery’s arm and hurriedly escorted him out of the room.
“Stab one or two healers, and everyone overreacts,” Niall said.
No one answered. Irial had fallen into unconsciousness and was not rousing.
Yet.
Niall drew out the cloth from the basin on the bedside table. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Irial’s forehead. “Your fever isn’t any worse. It’s not better yet, but it’s not worse.”
As he’d been doing most of the past day, he sat next to the unconscious faery and dabbed the wet cloth on Irial’s face and neck again.
“I can stay with him,” Gabriel said from the doorway. “If he wakes, I can send someone for you.”
“No.” He didn’t tell Gabriel about the peculiar dreams that he and Irial seemed to share now. It didn’t make sense to think he was really in the same dream with Irial. But it is real. It feels real. Niall had lived a long time, wandered for years, spent time in three different courts. He’d never heard of being able to dream together as he and Irial seemed to be doing. Is it madness? In his dreams they’d talked about all of the things they hadn’t spoken of in centuries; they’d been close as they hadn’t been in far too long. Am I imagining it?
The Hound tried again: “You need to rest. Court’s strength is from you. If you’re sick—”
“Don’t.” Niall glared at him. “Leave us.”
Gabriel ignored him. Instead of departing, he came farther into the room. He stood beside Irial’s bed and lowered one hand onto Niall’s shoulder in a gesture of support. “My pup is dead. Ani and Rabbit are over in Faerie. Irial’s hurt. I understand.”
The grief in the Hound’s voice almost undid the scant self-control Niall was desperately clinging to. “I can’t,” he admitted. “I can’t leave him. . . . Something’s not right.”
Gabriel snorted. “Lots of things aren’t right. Probably easier to list the things that are right.”
Silently, Niall dipped the cloth into the basin again. He stared at the water, trying to make sense of the feelings that had come over him. His reaction to Irial’s injury seemed too intense. Unpredictable thoughts clouded his mind; he couldn’t follow them from moment to moment with much clarity. Urges to violence pressed against his better judgment. In the couple days since Bananach had stabbed Irial, Niall had gone from angry to positively unhinged. He knew it. He’d felt emotions overwhelm him, but there was something else.
Something is wrong.
“Niall?”
The Dark King shook his head. “I’m not sure what I’ll do if I walk out of this room. I’m coming unraveled . . . without Irial. . . . I can’t do this alone, Gabe. I can’t. I’m not right.”
“You’re grieving. Normal reaction, Niall. You two have . . . issues, but you both knew what you were to each other.”
“Are, not were,” Niall corrected halfheartedly.