Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

She raised her hand, and with the gesture, bars of ice encircled him. Outside them, spears of ice were aimed toward him. “Perhaps—”

“Go see other kings, Donia. I am not the one who will speak.” Then he turned and walked through the barriers she’d built.

She saw the ice pierce him, watched red fall to the white ground like raindrops, but he did not pause.

Chapter 20

Seth heard the roar that heralded the Dark King’s waking only a moment before he found himself lifted from the sofa where he’d slept and thrown across the debris-scattered library. Without faery speed and faery strength, Seth would be dead.

“You!” Niall strode across the room.

As Seth came to his feet, he held out both hands toward Niall. “I am not your enemy, Niall.”

“You had no right. I am the Dark King, and you are . . . nothing to this court.”

“I am your brother, Niall. You are coming apart. You needed sleep.” Seth eased to the side, moving so that the expanse of the room was behind him. “Grief and exhaustion and the imbalance—”

“No.” Niall lashed out. He didn’t land the first punch, but his fist grazed Seth’s jaw. “You set my Hounds against me, struck me, left the court without leadership.”

“You’re leaving the court without leadership. Look around you.” Seth dodged another blow. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Bullshit.” Niall narrowed his gaze. “Fight back, Seth.”

“I don’t want to fight you; I want to help you.” Seth stared at his friend. “You needed sleep. You needed your dreams.”

“Do not speak of my dreams.” Niall closed the distance between them and grabbed Seth by the throat. He didn’t squeeze. Much. Niall was far more coherent than he had been when Seth arrived, but he was still filled with rage.

“I fought alongside you; I want Bananach dead. We are on the same side, Brother,” Seth started. Speaking with Niall’s grip on his throat hurt. “Niall—”

Niall gripped harder. “Irial is dead.”

“And we can avenge him,” Seth promised.

“She cannot be killed. Devlin said—”

“Things have changed.” Seth reached up and grabbed Niall’s wrist. He didn’t try to force the Dark King to release him; instead, he squeezed Niall’s wrist in affection. “Listen to me. Please?”

“Why?” Niall pulled his hand away, both releasing Seth’s throat and refusing his comfort.

“Because I know what Devlin did not.” Seth stepped backward. “I am certain of this: Bananach can die.”

“Without killing Sorcha and the rest of us?” Niall shook his head. “Irial trusted me with the court. I won’t fail them or him by risking their deaths on your belief.”

Seth didn’t point out that Niall was failing them already. “It’s not just belief. I can see future threads.”

The friendliness that had crept back into the Dark King’s voice vanished. “For how long?”

“Since I became a faery.”

The emotions that flickered over Niall’s face were devastating to see, but Seth didn’t look away. Shock faded under outrage. Then the hurt filled Niall’s eyes as he said, “You could have saved Irial.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Seth reached out, but Niall flinched away. “Niall . . .”

“You saw . . . you knew he would die, that Bananach would kill Tish and stab Irial.” Flickers of shadows darted around the already trashed room as Niall’s emotions shifted to anger. “You saw that she would poison Irial. You said nothing, but you knew.”

“I did,” Seth admitted. “I couldn’t interfere. Irial’s death led to the creation of the Shadow Court—which balances the High Court so that Faerie could be sealed.”

“Faerie is closed?” Niall frowned. “Since when?”