“What else’s in the draught?” His words were slurring. “Not jus’ elixir, Seth.”

“Something to help you rest and recover. I don’t need guarding, Devlin. Once you realize why, you’ll want to talk to Sorcha…. She didn’t tell me your secrets, and I won’t tell you hers.”

Devlin closed his eyes again. Killing for his queen was far easier than dealing with seers. She never told me what she’d used to remake Seth. More secrets. It had to be the Eolas. Words swirled in Devlin’s mind as he started to drift to sleep.

But Seth was still there. His words broke the silence. “You won’t be safe, but I think you made the right choice.”

“Haven’t chosen… anything.” Devlin tried to open his eyes, but they weighed too much. Seers with sleeping draughts. All sorts of unacceptable. “Thinking still. Logical paths… and such.”

Seth’s laughter wasn’t aloud, but it was threaded in his voice as he said, “Of course…. Sleep now, brother.”

Chapter 9

Not long before dawn, Ani stood on the stoop of an aging house. She pressed her palms against the dark wood of the front door, taking comfort in the simple pleasure of being welcome in Irial’s home. It was still his, even though he now shared it with the new Dark King.

She extended her left hand to the yawning mouth of a brass gargoyle knocker. Lovely sharp pain drew a sigh from her as the gargoyle closed its mouth over her fingers. The bite was over before she saw it happen, but she was found to be acceptable. Only those Irial had permitted access were allowed to disturb him. She was on the list— even at this hour.

“Are you injured? Is someone else?” Irial looked like he was dressed for someone other than her: he was clad in deep-blue silk pajama pants and nothing else.

“No. I’m bored. Restless. You know, the usual.” She sounded sulkier than she’d intended, and he smiled.

“Poor pup.” He stepped back to allow her into his home.

Just inside the door, she slipped off her shoes. The foyer was slick under her feet and colder than seemed possible; walking over it was just this side of painful. She shivered at the sensation.

The door closed of its own volition, and Ani paused to let Irial precede her into the house. He was particular about where he met visitors, so it was better to follow than try to lead. Of course, following had the added benefit of allowing her to watch him.

“Are you… I mean, is he…” She wasn’t sure of the right words when it came to Irial and Niall; no one in the court was. She settled on, “Is the king here?”

Irial glanced over his shoulder at her. “Niall is… out.”

Ani could taste the sadness in her former king. He kept himself in control. The shadows shifted around him, stretching and creeping over walls, but his spectral abyss-guardians didn’t appear.

“He’s a fool.” She didn’t look away, despite the play of shadows around him.

“No,” Irial murmured. “He’s more forgiving than I will ever deserve.”

The room they entered was the same one where he’d sat and held her when she tried not to cry after the pain of the thistle-fey’s embrace. Irial had comforted her then. After the tests, he always stayed with her until she didn’t want to scream or weep anymore.

Tonight, Irial kept his distance from her, moving over to an elegant mahogany bookshelf overfilled with tattered paperbacks. He ran a hand absently over the well-read books as he lowered the wall around his emotions, exposing his sorrow and longing, but his back was to her, hiding his expression.

She prowled the room. The rainbow pleasure of earlier had faded, but her nerves were too jangled to stay still. She paused beside him.

He turned.

Tentatively, Ani slid her arms around his neck. “Gabriel knows you help me. We could help each other.”

He didn’t move, so she leaned closer. It wasn’t the first time she’d kissed him, but it was the first time she did so with the intention of taking more. Not even Gabriel would be fool enough to tell Irial that he couldn’t have her if the former Dark King was willing.

For a few too-brief moments, he kissed her back, but when she pressed her h*ps tighter against him, Irial took her by the shoulders and set her away from him. His look of disapproval was one that still sent much of the Dark Court scrambling and cowering. “That won’t happen, Ani.”

“Maybe it would if you’d let me try….” She could still taste dark chocolate on her lips, peat smoke in the air all around them. Irial tasted like sin, and she wanted more of it.

“No.” Irial sat on the sofa and patted the middle cushion.

She flopped down on the opposite end of the sofa and stretched her legs out so her feet were in his lap.

He gave her a half-amused look, but he didn’t tell her to move.

“So you’re going to be celibate or something?” She leaned back, letting the sofa envelope her, and flung an arm behind her so that it dangled over the arm of the sofa.

“No, but I’m not taking Gabriel’s daughter to my bed.” He lifted one of her feet and idly rubbed circles on the bottom of it with his thumbs.

Ani thought she could melt at the simple touch. “No one will take Gabriel’s daughter to bed, and I’m trying to follow the rules.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “No taking both emotion and touch from mortals. Or faeries. No sex until I’m sure I won’t kill them. No fighting with Hounds so they don’t kill me. No. No. No. What am I supposed to do?”