And not once think about the way he endangers himself now.

A regent could prevent any of his or her subjects from seeing the gate, and a strong solitary could impose restrictions on weaker fey. A part of Niall thought stealing others’ will was wrong, but he understood now that there were times that choices were a matter of opting for the lesser of several wrongs.

“It is my decree that none of the subjects of Dark Court may enter Faerie without my consent.” Niall looked at Gabriel’s forearms as the command appeared there. “Until such time as I speak otherwise, the gates are unseen to my subjects.”

The Hounds didn’t offer fealty, so they could go to Faerie. Of course, they wouldn’t do so unless Gabriel directed them. Irial, however, could no longer see the gates or enter Faerie.

“He’s going to be furious,” Gabriel said mildly.

Niall shook his head and admitted, “I don’t want him getting himself killed.”

“Knew that years ago, when you showed up regularly even though you were in another court.” Gabriel laughed. “So did he. Why do you think he got in so many scrapes? He spent centuries trying to get your attention back, Niall.”

“Well, he has it now,” Niall grumbled. “Maybe not the way he wanted, but . . . he’s going to have to learn that he will obey me or he can just take the court back.”

“Unstoppable force and immovable object. This will be fun.” The Hound laughed, clapped Niall on the shoulder, and said, “I’ll ready the Hunt for Devlin’s arrival.”

“Good.” Niall walked away before he admitted that he was looking forward to the impending violence—and putting Irial in his place.

Chapter 6

Sorcha didn’t respond when Devlin walked into her gardens. She’d long since stopped acknowledging him when he did so. As if it will make the future less difficult. She hated that he was an anomalous creature—almost as much as she treasured it. He would be her undoing if she let him. Perhaps he would be even if she tried to stop him. In some matters the threads of possibility were seemingly determined.

“My Queen?”

She didn’t turn. Facing him as they lied in their omissions made the whole business even less palatable. “Brother.”

“I have blinded the mortal as you commanded. I go now to the mortal world.” His voice was as empty as it often was, but that too was a lie of sorts. Her brother might pretend to be High Court, but she was under no illusion that he was solely her creature.

“I have business in the mortal realm that needs tending,” she said.

He’d expected as much, but he’d hoped otherwise. She could see the resignation in the infinitesimal moment in which he frowned. The expression was gone too fast for most anyone to see, of course, but she saw much that no one else would. The pause before replying was infinitesimal, but it was still there.

“Whatever you command,” he said.

She turned. “Indeed?”

Before she could catch his gaze, he dropped to his knees. “Have I failed you?”

Sorcha didn’t speak. Have you? She knew he would, but had he? Her vision of the past was unclear. The present and future took her focus so fully, and eternity stretched longer than she could grasp. Have you? She waited, looking down at the first faery she’d made. Before he existed, there were only two, Discord and Order, twins who had once created one thing together. You. She reached down and ran her fingers through his multihued hair. It was unlike that which graced any other faery, and it was resistant to her will. He couldn’t be altered by her touch, not now that he was real. Other faeries couldn’t be either, but they weren’t her creations.

They’d stayed this way for hours before. Devlin had the patience and willpower to kneel for as long as she required it. He didn’t falter, didn’t sleep, didn’t wince. He simply waited. She wondered idly if he could outwait her.

“Could we spend decades thus, Brother?” she murmured.

He lifted his gaze. “Sister?”

“If I demanded it, how long would you kneel thusly?” She traced up his cheekbones and down the outside of his jaw with her fingertips. “Would you falter from exhaustion before I would?”

“You are my queen.”

“I am,” she agreed. She cupped his face in her hands and held him still. “That’s not an answer.”

He didn’t even try to resist. “Do you require me to falter or to succeed in waiting as long as you?”

She smiled then. “Such a wise answer. You will do whatever I require, then? You will strive to not fail me? You will serve me forever?”

“As your servant, your Bloodied Hands, your brother, your advisor, I will do all that you demand.” He bowed his head, and she loosened her grip to allow it. Then he added, “The last of those questions is unanswerable.”

“It is.” She turned her back, fashioned a chair of flowering vines, and sat down. In her hands, a book appeared. She had willed it to be withdrawn from the palace library and appear here. Ignoring her brother, she began to read.

He stayed there kneeling for the next three hours.

Somewhere into the fourth hour, she lifted her gaze to look at him. “I need you to go to the new Dark King. Give him word of the High Court’s acknowledgment of his new station. Stress to him that while we are not at conflict, I will not hesitate to act as required to keep order.”

Devlin stayed silent, awaiting the rest.