Fragile Eternity

Chapter 8

Seth wanted to be surprised when he saw Niall waiting inside the Crow’s Nest the next day, but he wasn’t. Their friendship was one of the things Niall held fast to, and Seth, for his part, wasn’t objecting. It was like discovering that he had a brother—albeit a twisted and moody older brother—no one had bothered to tell him about.

Seth spun a chair around and straddled it. “Don’t you have a job or something?”

The Dark King lifted a glass in greeting. A second glass sat on the table. He gestured toward it and said, “Poured not by my hand or of my cup.”

“Relax. I trust you. Plus I’m already in your world”—Seth lifted the glass and took a drink—“and not planning on walking out of it anytime either.”

Niall frowned. “Maybe you should trust less freely.”

“Maybe.” Seth leaned over and grabbed a clean ashtray from the next table and slid it to Niall. “Or maybe you should chill out.”

In one corner, the band was doing their sound check. Damali, one of Seth’s semi-regular partners before-Aislinn, waved. Her copper-tinted dreads were midway down her back when he’d seen her last. They weren’t much longer, but they were dyed magenta now. Seth nodded and turned his attention back to Niall. “So, you feeling the need for a lecture or being overprotective?”

“Yes.”

“Talkative and maudlin today. Lucky me.”

Niall glared at him. “Most people are intimidated by me these days. I’m the master of the monsters that Faerie fears.”

Seth arched a brow. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“This whole ‘fear me’ thing doesn’t work for you. Better stick to the brooding.” Seth took another drink and looked around the Crow’s Nest. “You and I both know you could order all of their deaths, but I know you wouldn’t do it.”

“I would if I needed to.”

Seth didn’t have an answer to that—it wasn’t a point of argument—so he switched topics: “Are you going to be gloomy all afternoon?”

“No.” Niall glanced at the far corner. This early, there was an open dartboard. “Come.”

“Woof,” Seth said, but he stood even as he said it, relieved to move on to doing something.

“Now, why don’t my real Hounds obey so quickly?” Niall had apparently decided to try to lighten up. He smiled, weakly, but still it was a smile.

Seth went over and pulled the darts out of the board. He wasn’t serious enough about the game to carry his own. Niall, however, did carry his own. He had been a faery-but-not-king for too long. As a king, he wasn’t prone to reacting to steel, but that was a very recent change. A lifetime habit didn’t let go so easily. He opened his case; inside were bone-tipped darts.

While Seth selected the straightest of the steel-tipped darts for himself, Niall watched with a bemused expression. “It’s not toxic anymore, but I still would rather it not touch my skin.”

“Cigarettes aren’t toxic to you either, but you certainly don’t hesitate there.”

“Point. The darts shouldn’t bother me,” Niall agreed, but he still made no move to touch the darts in Seth’s hand.

With a comfort he rarely felt around the denizens of the Summer Court, Seth turned his back to the King of Nightmares and eyed the board. Home. Safe. The fact that Niall’s presence in his home of sorts only added to his sense of security was not lost on him.

“Cricket?”

“Sure.” Seth didn’t see the benefit in pretending he was up to playing something more serious. He wasn’t good enough to give Niall any challenge on his best days, but that wasn’t what throwing darts was about anyhow. It was a way to pass the time, a task for focus.

They played three games in almost complete silence, and even though he was obviously distracted, Niall won them all with his usual ease. When Niall had aimed and thrown his third and final dart, he said, “I hope you forgive better than you shoot.”

“What’s up?” Seth couldn’t stop the wave of worry that rose at the Dark King’s carefully neutral tone.

Niall spared him a glance as he retrieved his darts. “Unfinished business. Trust me.”

“I don’t want trouble.”

“I’m the Dark King, Seth, what trouble could there possibly be?” Niall grinned, finally looking almost happy. “They’re here.”

And for a heartbeat, Seth didn’t want to turn. He knew he’d see them—his girlfriend and his competition for her affection—when he turned. He didn’t like to see them together, but his self-control was short-lived. Even though it meant seeing her with Keenan, Seth couldn’t resist looking at her. He never could, even when she was mortal. Aislinn was smiling up at Keenan; she had a hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm. She’d begun to adopt more of the faeries’ formal mannerisms in public.

Niall spoke in a low undertone: “Don’t ever think he can be trusted. He counts the days until you are out of his way, and he has time on his side. I know you love our—the—Summer Queen, but yours is a losing battle, especially as you’re not fighting. Cut your losses before they destroy you, or fight back.”

“I don’t want to give up.” Seth looked at Ash. He’d thought the same thing more than a couple times lately. “But I don’t want to fight anyone.”

“Fighting is…” Niall started.

Seth didn’t hear the rest of the words: Aislinn had looked up and caught Seth’s gaze. She left Keenan and started across the room.

Casually, Keenan turned to talk to one of his guards as if her absence wasn’t painful. It is though. Seth knew that; he had studied the Summer King’s reactions, watched them change as winter ended. Keenan would keep Aislinn nearer him always if he could.

Just like I would.

Niall gave Seth a pitying look as Aislinn approached them. “You’re not listening at all, are you?”

All the air in Seth’s lungs seemed to vanish.

Is it her or what she is? He’d wondered that more and more. He’d never really done the relationship thing before Aislinn, so trying to figure out what was normal was a challenge. Was the escalation of fascination normal? Or was it because he was in love with someone who wasn’t human anymore? He’d done enough reading of old folk stories the past months to know that humans could rarely resist a faery’s allure.

Is that what’s happening to me?

But Aislinn was slipping into his arms then. When she brought her lips to his, he couldn’t care less about why he was fascinated by her, or if Niall’s warnings were true, or what Keenan intended. All that mattered was that he and Aislinn were together. Sunlight soaked into his skin as she wrapped her arms around him.

He held on to her tighter than he would’ve before—when she was human. He couldn’t grasp her tightly enough to ever hurt her, not now that she was faery.

Her hands slid up his spine, and she let a trickle of sunlight into her skin as she touched him. Such boldness in public was uncharacteristic.

He broke their kiss. “Ash?”

She pulled back a little more, and he shivered at the loss.

Like the sun being taken away.

“Sorry.” A light blush colored her cheeks.

He didn’t have any faith in his ability to formulate a sentence yet.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“You too.” Seth promised. Always.

She nestled into his arms with a little sigh. She wasn’t a queen, wasn’t a faery, wasn’t anyone but his Aislinn then.

“You okay?”

“I am now.”

Not a minute later, though, she tensed. Although Aislinn couldn’t see Keenan, she obviously knew that he stood behind her. Whatever connection they had was growing stronger, and it wasn’t making life any easier.

For his part, Keenan’s expression hinted at confusions he wouldn’t voice. Aislinn’s residual humanity, her ability to switch from ruler to just a girl, seemed to baffle Keenan. Seth had watched him try to make sense of Aislinn’s refusal to distance herself from the human world. It was a strength: the people she saw benefiting from her dedication to rebuilding Summer’s strength inspired her to do more. But it was also a weakness: time with mortals reminded her of the unpleasant differences between mortal and fey and kept her aloof from her faeries. That distance was the source of a rift in the court, a vulnerability that caused more than a little rumbling.

Added to that were tensions from Aislinn’s refusal to be a “proper queen” and Keenan’s ongoing relationship with Donia; the court was stronger, but it was not healed.

Seth knew it would change with time—especially as the mortals Aislinn loved aged and died—but Keenan was openly dissatisfied by any weaknesses that could endanger Aislinn. The strengthening faeries’ frustrations with their monarchs’ choices made Keenan worry about what would happen as those faeries grew bolder. That worry for Aislinn was one of the few things that Seth appreciated about the Summer King. Keenan did treasure Aislinn. He wanted to keep her safe and happy.

He also wants to keep her to himself.

“You ought to step away, Keenan. I see what you’re doing. I’ve watched you play these games for centuries.” Niall’s voice was suddenly smoke and shadows. “Try thinking about what others need for a change.”

“I don’t believe what I do now is any of your business.” Keenan maneuvered so that he was farther from Aislinn and facing Niall. In doing so, the Summer King had put his back to the brick wall—assuring that no one could come up behind him.

“If you hurt Seth”—Niall shot a smile at Seth—“it will be.”

“He isn’t of your court.”

Derision dripping from his voice, the Dark King said, “Only an ass would think that matters. Leslie is lost to me. Your queen’s friend, and you let her be corrupted—”

“By the Dark Court, your court, Niall.” Keenan glanced at Aislinn, at Seth, at the various mortals in the room. In the dim alcove where they stood, the conflict wasn’t attracting any attention yet.

“It is my court, and with all I’ve learned from the two twisted kings I’ve loved and lived for, it won’t ever bow to yours. Don’t try me, Keenan.” Niall stalked toward Keenan, closing the distance, menace clinging to his skin. “Hurt Seth and you will answer to me.”

Keenan didn’t speak.

“Tell me you hold no ill will toward him, Keenan.” Niall’s voice had dropped to a low growl that Seth hadn’t known resided in his friend. Beside the Dark King, the abyss maidens took form and swayed; their bodies were tongues of black flame, twisting and undulating. Seth knew they were capable of devastation if let loose, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. In a part of himself he tried to keep hidden, there was rage at Keenan and excitement at the thought that Niall would slap Keenan down. Which isn’t cool. Seth kept those urges in check these days. He’d worked hard at becoming the person he was now. He didn’t indulge in fights or one-night stands; he didn’t get stupidly drunk or set out to try things just because they were forbidden. He was calm—even when it wasn’t his instinctual reaction.

“Niall?” Seth let go of Aislinn and stepped around the abyss dancers. “Chill.”

“He doesn’t speak, does he, Seth?” Niall had curled his hands into fists.

“I know where I stand.” Seth knew Keenan had mixed feelings. He hadn’t acted to injure Seth, but it would be a surprise if he hadn’t considered it. At length. Probably with Tavish advising him on the risks. Seth wasn’t going there, though; it didn’t help things. “I don’t need to hear his answer.”

“Ash does.” Niall’s posture was still, but shadows rippled out from him onto the brick wall behind Keenan. The black bars could solidify into a cage. “Back away, Seth. Please.”

Seth moved farther from the small space where the two kings stood glaring at each other. After seeing the conflict with the raven-faery, Seth was aware that standing between these two was a bad idea. Mortals are too fragile. The thought disgusted him, but it was true. I am too easily broken by them. By all of them.

“Keenan wouldn’t hurt Seth,” Aislinn murmured. She came over and took Seth’s hand. “I wouldn’t forgive that, and he knows it.”

Niall spared her a censorious glance. “Really?”

Sunbeams flickered around her as she became irritated with Niall. “Yes, really.”

They all paused at a commotion in the doorway. Summer Court guards were attempting to refuse entrance to a group of heavily decorated faeries. It didn’t work. Gabriel, the Hound who was the left hand of the Dark Court, sauntered in. With him were six other Hounds—including Chela, Gabriel’s rough and strangely sweet mate—and Gabriel’s half-mortal daughter Ani. The tread of Gabriel’s feet reverberated through the floor. The wave of fear the Hounds brought in their wake rippled across the room.

And Seth was once more grateful for the anti-glamour charm Niall had given him. He might be breakable, but he was not susceptible to the Hounds’ fear, to any of their glamours. Donia had given him the Sight, but that only allowed him to See them. Niall gave him protection from the way they could toy with his emotions.

“Gabe,” Seth said, not sure if the Hounds’ arrival was good news or not. They weren’t known for counseling caution or calm. “Good to see you…I think.”

Gabriel laughed. “We’ll see.”

Chela winked. “Mortal.”

Niall didn’t look away from Keenan. “You hurt Seth, and I will not forgive you. He’s my friend, under the Dark Court’s protection.”

“Keenan is not going to hurt Seth,” Aislinn interjected. “And our court keeps him safe already. He doesn’t need you.”

Keenan gave a bland look to Niall and then asked Seth, “Do you offer fealty to the Dark Court, Seth Morgan?”

“No.”

“Do you offer it to the Summer Court?”

Seth felt Aislinn tense beside him. “No, but I wouldn’t turn down friendship with either if it’s offered.”

“There’s a cost….” Keenan’s guileless expression was disingenuous, a sort of lie. “Pain, sex, blood, there are many horrible prices the Dark Court can demand. Are you going to be willing to pay what they ask for to buy protection?”

“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.”