Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

“It would. He doesn’t punish anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Ouch!”

He snatches his hand back and clutches it to his chest, glaring at me for putting too much pressure on one of the deeper cuts.

“Sorry! Sorry. Here, give it back.”

We sit in silence while I dab more salve on, careful not to hurt him again. Only when I think I can keep my voice steady do I ask, “You do know what he did to those two fae, right?”

He shrugs. “They fucked up. If he hadn’t punished them first, the Pantheons would have allowed the Seelie to decide the reparation. Their punishment would have been a fuckton worse.”

Wait, what? I fumble with the gauze, earning a curious look from Seb.

“But...he hurt them,” I protest.

“A little bit. But he didn’t permanently disfigure them or leave them psychologically scarred.” Seb’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The Summer Court’s quite talented at doing both those things, trust me.”

Roark was protecting his people. Roark was keeping them safe. And I... Oh, God, I seriously messed up.

“What’s wrong?”

I finish tying up the last of the gauze and run my hands down my face. “Nothing. Just being stupid again.”

Seb gives a soft laugh and shakes his head. “I doubt that. But you do look exhausted. Have you still been practicing outside of class?”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I need to get better with it.”

“You’re working too hard. Even athletes know to take time off to heal so they can come back stronger.” He leans back, biting his lip to try to hide his growing smile. That sneaky smile, combined with the quick, appraising glance he gives me, warns he has a plan. A plan undoubtedly filled with poor decisions and destroyed comfort zones and more fun than I’d ever find on my own. “We’re going to the Summer’s End Ball.”

“The Seelie party? Are you insane? They’ll attack you again.”

“Nope. It’s open to all pantheons, so they’ll be on their best behavior. I was going to meet someone there anyway. I’ll get you in the door, set you up with some friends—”

“I don’t know—”

“Finny.” He looks so serious, so unlike himself, I shut my trap. Once he knows I won’t protest, he says, “You’re burning yourself out. Take a break. It’s just one night.”

I want to argue, but can’t. He’s right. Every time I use the ley line lately I walk away more beaten down than before. I’m not getting any closer to helping my family, only closer to leaving them before I can. Besides, what’s one night off in the big scheme of things?

“You’re a terrible influence,” I tell him.

He knows it’s a victory. “This is exactly what you need. Trust me.”

Chapter Seven

Phineas

Never again, I promise myself as I excuse my way through yet another crowded room. I will never trust Seb again.

The Seelie sorority house on the edge of campus is decked out in all its finery. Servants borrowed from the Seelie High Court float through the space, carrying delicate trays filled with organic delights that must have cost a small fortune to get this late in the season. Champagne and ambrosia waterfalls trickle down mountains of glasses so clean they’re nearly invisible. Overhead, enchanted stardust floats in the air, so you feel like you’re constantly walking through a cloudscape of glitter.

Seb prepared me enough that my game-day suit keeps me from standing out as a total imposter, but he also abandoned me to find his real date after a quick round of introductions to some of his friends. Friends who have since parted to find other friends. I wander around, greeting some acquaintances in passing, mostly fae I’ve worked with in classes or played against in the intramural football league. They’re kind and open and willing to let me join them, but I politely decline and continue deeper into the rooms. It’s kind of fun to play high-class for the night, but the reality is, this isn’t my scene.

I have no interest in smiling and chatting and listening to classical music, surrounded by fine china and delicate stemware and black ties. Give me an old blanket on a lawn, fresh barbeque, and arguing about the game any day.

The only upside of the large crowd is the freedom it grants me. It’s easy enough to slip through the initial crowds at the entryway, the rooms where different types of music blare and invite dancers to step to the floor, the quieter social rooms where groups sit on comfortable furniture and converse in earnest, hushed voices. Soon, I’m nearly to the back of the house and its entrance to the garden, which I’ve always wanted to see after hearing classmates talk about the work they’ve done on it. Almost there, but not quite, when a rosy-cheeked group of underclassmen emerge from a game room. Instead of squeezing past their boisterous group in the hall, I dart into a side room. It’s a minor detour on my way to the garden, which I’m sure I’ll admire thoroughly before slipping out the garden’s gate and returning to the apartment.

The moment I step through the doorway, the atmosphere changes. The excitement of the party is gone, replaced with the low-key pressure of magickal auras and a seriousness that keeps the conversations hushed and private. It’s not that the room’s empty; on the contrary, there’s a lot of people in here and a number of them are student leaders within the university. Most of them spare me a polite glance, but slip back into their private conversations easily, dismissing me before they can even assess my worth.

Roark’s too busy talking to the Seelie princess Aileen to notice my entrance. It gives me a private moment to watch him. He’s cut from the shadows. Black suit, black shirt,