Fragile Eternity (7 page)

“Seth?” The worry in Aislinn’s voice was real. She was the only one in the room who might believe that Keenan was trying to help Seth.

In offering his court’s friendship, Niall had thrown an unasked-for lifeline, not a trap. Seth got that.
Even if she doesn’t see it.
A court’s friendship was more than just Niall’s friendship: it meant that those who swore fealty to that throne would act as if he were one of their own. It meant he’d have many of the benefits of belonging to a court without the obligations or duties. Considering how vulnerable he was, it meant he had strength to call upon—from a court that many of the solitaries, the High Court, and the
Summer Court feared. Even if it didn’t irritate Keenan, it would be appealing.

“It’s cool,” Seth assured Aislinn. “Niall is my friend.”

“The friendship of not just the Dark King but the Dark Court is offered, to be paid with blood and no other coin,” Niall said. His eyes held fear that Seth would reject his offer.

“Accepted.” Seth stretched his wrist out in front of him and waited. He didn’t reach toward Niall or the Hounds. The details of what would follow were utterly unclear to him. Most everyone there could draw blood without a blade, but they also all carried weapons of some sort. It was doubtful that anyone other than Niall would bleed him, and even if they did, Seth trusted that Gabriel and Chela—the two next highest-ranking dark faeries—would be cautious with his safety.

Only Keenan means me harm.

“I trust you,” Seth said—to Niall, to the Hounds.

“I am honored.” Niall leaned in and lowered his voice to say, “But Dark Kings really
don’t
resist temptation very well.”

Then, with a wicked grin, he turned and slammed his fist into Keenan’s face with enough force that the Summer King’s head hit the brick wall with a loud thud.

In a breath, the faeries all became invisible.

Aislinn rushed to Keenan’s side as he crumpled and fell.

The Hounds surged forward to stand like a wall of
menace alongside Niall.

The abyss dancers shimmied.

And Niall licked his knuckles. “Sealed and paid with blood. The rules don’t say it has to be
your
blood, Seth.”

Aislinn put herself between Keenan and Niall before the thought to protect her king had even finished forming. “Stop.”

“You don’t want to try me right now.” Niall turned his back on her and started to walk away.

She followed. On some level she understood that her temper was propelling her to act foolishly, but it didn’t matter. Her king was wounded at this faery’s hand. She had to strike out at anyone who would attack their court; she had to crush anyone who would weaken them.

Niall’s action isn’t about the court, though.
Niall and Keenan hadn’t resolved their conflicts, and Niall believed that Keenan was a threat to Seth.
This is personal, not court.
Logic tried to interfere with impulse.
But Keenan is hurt.

She took hold of Niall’s arm. The smell of sizzling skin
was instant. Her sunlight had flared brighter than she realized.

Niall didn’t flinch. Instead he drew his arm—and therefore her—tight to his body. Her fingers were pressed against his chest, burning small holes in his shirt. Instead of pulling away from her, he held her close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Once she did, Niall said, “My court would like more conflict with yours…and I”—he smiled—“I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“Let go.” She tugged her hand and concentrated so she was no longer injuring him.

He gripped her wrist. “Any blood would’ve done the trick, but I wanted his. I’m not in violation of any laws for doing it. And, really? I suspected I’d enjoy it more this way”—he looked beyond her and grinned at Keenan lying prone on the ground—“and I did.”

Then he released her.

She backed away carefully. “You hurt him.”

“And you injured me. The difference, Aislinn, is that I’d do it every day if I could find justification. Would you?” Niall didn’t sound like the same faery who’d helped her get used to her new role as Summer Queen, and he surely didn’t sound like the faery who’d wooed Leslie. Those faces were gone, and what stood in front of her was a faery that rivaled the worst of the ones she’d hid from as a child.

Her sunlight barely in check, she glared at him. “I’m not the one starting fights.”

“Shall I start one? Really start the conflict they crave? My court whispers and chants tales of what we could do while your court is still weak. It grows hard not to listen.” His dark dancers swayed around him like shadows come to life. Gabriel and several other Hounds stood waiting.

This could get uglier than we can handle.

They hadn’t brought a lot of people with them. She wasn’t expecting trouble. Sure, there were rumblings of discord, but faeries were always in small dissentions. The court rulers kept that in check. Niall had been one of the good guys. Donia was one of the good guys. The two courts that had caused trouble for hers were both led by faeries who’d been confidants—
and more
—to Keenan. He’d trusted that their past would protect the Summer Court. He knew they were out of sorts, but he hadn’t thought it was severe enough to lead to any true problems.
It’s not the way faery courts work, Aislinn,
he’d assured her.
We aren’t so quick to strike out,
he’d promised. And she’d believed him—until now.

“Do I frighten you, Ash?” Niall’s voice was a low whisper, as if they were the only two people in the room. “Do I remind you of why you thought we were monsters?”

“Yes.” Her own voice came out shaky.

“Good.” He glanced to the side of her, where a wall of shadows had formed. Outside that wall lay the only faery there, other than her, who could tear down those shadows, but she wasn’t sure how to, and Keenan was unconscious on the ground.

As if the detail were of only casual interest, Niall added,
“Your king never learned to fight. He had me and all the rest to do it for him.”

The wall of shadows grew and enclosed the two of them in a bubble. She pushed against it; the texture was simultaneously feathery and slick.
New moon. Hunger. Fear.
The touch of it made her shiver.
Need. Drowning under black waves of need. Teeth.

She jerked her hand away and forced herself to focus on the conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“Protecting the mortal
you
love?” Niall shook his head. “I won’t have Keenan break him too, and you’ve proven that you won’t defend your friends from him. You’re good for your court, but your mortals…”

“
Your
court did that to Leslie.”

“And you could’ve saved her. If you’d offered her your court’s protection before he took her—” He broke the sentence off with a growl. “You failed her just as you’ll fail Seth.”

“I made mistakes, but I would
never
hurt Seth. I love him.” Aislinn felt her own temper getting less stable. Niall had trapped her, struck her king, and intimated that Seth was vulnerable because of her. Earlier she’d hurt Niall by accident, lack of control, but now…now, she wanted to hurt him.
Severely.
Her temper was flaring, and in that moment, she saw no reason to try to control it. The air inside the shadow bubble was growing blisteringly hot. She could taste acrid desert air, sand against her lips.

“Strike me, Ash. Go ahead. Give me leave to let my court
loose on yours. Convince me that I should let them torture your frail Summer Girls. Invite me to permit them to draw rowan blood,” he whispered in a tone meant for bedrooms and candlelight. That was the nature of the Dark Court, though—violence and sex, fear and lust, anger and passion. He reached out and caressed her cheek as he added, “Allow me to give in to their desires.”

Irial was less dangerous to us.
That was Niall’s weak spot—Irial.
Stop treating him like a friend. Don’t think of him like a mortal.
Her mind tangled trying to figure what move made sense here. So much she’d learned about faeries was no longer useful. She’d long since surrendered the ability to live by most of the rules Grams had taught her. One rule was still helpful though:
If I run, they’ll chase.

She came closer, advancing on him. “The last Dark King thought to tempt me. Here. In this same place…”

Niall laughed, looking almost joyous for a brief flash, but that pleasure was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “If he’d truly tried, he would’ve had you. He didn’t try you, Ash…you were a momentary distraction, a quick flirt. Irial’s just that way.”

“Keenan says you’re like Irial—a
Gancanagh
. He didn’t explain that to me before,” she admitted, not proud of her king’s deceits or the results, but willing to be honest. “Are you still? Are you addictive?”

“Why? You want a taste?”

Something feral waited. She saw it under the thin veneer of civility that was still Niall. It wasn’t a surface she wanted
to crack. Logic warned her away, but she didn’t heed it. “So we really should start treating You like Irial….”

“No”—Niall put his hand on her shoulders and pushed her until she was crushed between the wall of shadows and him—“you should remember that Irial didn’t really want to hurt Keenan. I do. I only need an excuse. Will you give me one, Ash?”

The feel of that wall behind her body was overwhelming. Dangerous temptations whispered on her skin; things she would rather not consider came rushing to her mind.
Keenan under my hands. Mine. Not just a taste, but drowning in him.
It wasn’t a Dark Court faery she wanted, but it was Dark Court energy that made her mind go places it really shouldn’t. Dark Court temptations made her think of the faery she wanted, not the mortal she loved. Her heart felt too fast in her chest as the shadows pulled her under her fears and lust.

“I want—” She bit down on her lip, not speaking those words, not admitting that she thought of Keenan in that instant.

“I know what you want, Ash. What
I
want is to wound him.” Niall looked through the shadows at Keenan. “I want him to cross lines that would justify attacking him.”

“Justify?” She tried to push away from the shadows that were cradling her.

“To myself. To Donia. To Seth.”

“But…”

“My court wants it. It’s a big part of why they embrace
me as their king…. It’s why Bananach flaunts herself in my chambers every moment she can. She comes to me, bloodied and hungry for whatever anger I have.” Niall looked at Seth, who pushed futilely against the shadow barrier. “Seth wants you. He loves you. Keep him safe from Keenan…or I’ll have more than reason to let loose the perversions and cruelty of my court.”

She looked through the barrier. Seth was saying something, but his words were blocked by the smoky wall. His expression, however, wasn’t. He was livid. Her very calm Seth was anything but peaceful.

“If
Seth
would forgive me, Ash, I would use you as my excuse to provoke your king.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You hurt Leslie by your stupidity. You hurt me.”

He pushed her into the shadow wall until she thought her heart would fail. Terror surged through her, sliding into her stillest corners and prodding all her fears and doubts to fruition.
Alone. Not good enough. Weak. Stupid. Destroying Seth. Wounding my court. Failing my king.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted Leslie to be hurt. You know that….” She forced her mind to focus, calling on the warmth inside of her, the peace of summer sun that was her own strength. It wasn’t enough—not against a faery king who knew what he was doing. “I know you aren’t really this cruel. You’re a good person.”

“You’re wrong.” Niall’s gaze darted to Gabriel and the other Hounds, who were shadowy outlines outside the cage Niall had erected around the two of them. Then, finally, he
pulled her away from the wall of darkness. “Ask your Summer Girls if I am a white hat. Ask Keenan when he rouses. Ask yourself if your fears of me are well founded. You’re all alone with a monster, Aislinn…and your lusts, your fears, your angers are like blood-lures.”

But I am
not
alone.
That simple statement made the difference. There was a person on the other side of the wall who loved her, and there was a faery who was a part of her. Seth gave her courage; Keenan gave her sunlight. She let herself draw her own and Keenan’s sunlight into her skin; that familiar warmth chased away the thick shadows that had invaded her body. “I need to go. Drop the wall.”

“Or?”

Without any thought beyond making the Dark King bend to the Summer Court, she shoved that sunlight forward, pushing it into Niall’s skin. Languor and satiation, bodies musky with summer’s sun, a sirocco’s biting winds—all of it surged into him.
Fair pay for the shadows.
It was the full weight of summer’s pleasure with a tinge of pain. “We are stronger now. Don’t provoke him…or me.”

His hands were still restraining her, but he closed his eyes.

She thought she’d made her point. She thought of telling him that they wished things hadn’t happened as they had. She truly wanted peace between the courts. It was only a few heartbeats of hope and guilt, and before she could decide, he opened his eyes. The maw of the abyss watched her from inside him.

“You’re thinking like a mortal, Aislinn.” He licked his lips. “Or maybe you’re thinking like Keenan—flashy displays of power don’t intimidate me.”

She took a fumbling step backward, trying to pull away from him.

“Even if Seth wasn’t my friend, I wouldn’t try to seduce you. I would, however, reach out and break those delicate bones of yours.” He was chest-to-chest with her. “I am the Dark King, not some young pup to be impressed by a display of temper. I lived with Irial. I learned to fight alongside Gabriel’s Hounds.”

Niall squeezed until she felt how breakable she still was—to him, to another faery ruler.

Seth pressed against the shadows again. His hand was on the outside of the barrier. If he could force his way through it, he could touch her, but he couldn’t cross the shadows. The frustration on his face was awful to see. As she looked at him, fear plain on her face, Seth cursed. He shook Keenan, but the Summer King was unresponsive.

Several Hounds waited around Keenan. They neither helped nor interfered with Seth’s attempt to rouse him. Other Hounds stood at the door barring any faeries who tried to enter.

“You can be a good queen and a good person, Aislinn. Don’t let your belief in Keenan lead to hurting Seth, or I will exact the cost of every hurt you’ve been forgiven.” Niall released her and simultaneously lowered the wall.

She fell to the floor.

With seeming indifference, Niall walked past the mortal he’d been defending, past the king he’d once served, past his own faeries.

Seth stopped him. “What in the hell are you doing?” He felt the last bit of calm he’d worked so hard to build inside of him fleeing. “You can’t—”

“Seth. Don’t.” Niall gripped Seth’s arm. “The Summer Court needed a reminder that I am not theirs to command.”

“I’m not talking about the court. That’s
Ash.
You hurt
Ash.
”

“Listen very carefully.” Niall looked at Seth as he spoke, each word clipped and precise. “She is un-broken. Frightened, but that’s not a bad thing. If she were truly hurt, you’d be nursing her, not lashing out at me. You know that as well as I do.”

Seth had no answer to that. Arguing would be a lie, and—as he did with Aislinn—Seth tried to never lie to Niall.

Two shadow dancers pressed against Niall; their bodies were almost as tangible as living beings. One male stood behind Niall. His diaphanous body was extended, elongated so that his arms draped over Niall’s shoulders. His hands met over Niall’s ribs. The second shadow dancer was beside Niall; she held one hand flat over his heart, centered above the hands of the first shadow dancer. Absently, Niall reached up and caressed the entwined hands.

“She followed me,” Niall reminded him. “I am who I am,
Seth. I spent centuries wearing the Summer Court’s leash. I won’t be anyone or anything other than myself again. I gave her the chance to walk away, and she threatened me.”

“Because you knocked out Keenan…”

Niall shrugged. “We all have choices to make. She chose to try me. I chose to point out her follies.”