Radiant Shadows

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 hips 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?”

“Are you asking for advice?” He looked gentle now, revealing the side he never shared in public, the side he showed her when she was ill or weak. This was why Leslie had loved him, why Niall loved him still. Irial would do anything for his loved ones, especially now that he didn’t carry the responsibility of caring for the Dark Court. That kind of love was a once-in-a-lifetime thing; nothing should stand in the way when someone loved that intensely. Ani understood that, even if both her mortal friend, Leslie, and the new king were too daft to see it.

Ani couldn’t understand anyone refusing him: he was perfect. Okay, not perfect, but awfully close. That whole willingness-to-experiment-on-me thing isn’t fun, but mostly perfect. She’d had the worst crush on him growing up. Maybe still do a little bit. He had been the Dark King, the fiend that the nightmares feared. In her court, only Gabriel and Bananach were as terrifying.

“If advice is all you’re passing out, I’ll take it.” Ani pulled her foot out of his hands and extended the other.

He laughed but commenced rubbing.

“I’m suffering here.” She tilted her chin, widened her eyes, and let her foul mood show.

“Pouting doesn’t work on me, pup.” He pressed his thumbs harder into the bottom of her foot.

“It used to.”

“No, it just made you happy to think you could play me.” He ran a fingertip over her foot, taunting her with softness.

She pulled away and hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s ridiculous, Iri.”

“Gabe’s just worried about keeping you safe.” Irial reached out and squeezed her ankle. “The Vilas took the last batch of blood to a lab that specializes in nonmortal biology. If we can identify what you are, we can isolate your peculiar traits and—”

“It’s been months of tests,” Ani interrupted. “Just take some of it and do another ink exchange. I’m mortal enough to be bound to someone, and I am fey enough to feed. Instead of court tears, try my blood as the ink base. See if it works and—”

“No.” Irial squeezed her ankle tight enough that it was painful. “Niall prefers that we don’t do that. There is discord, and he can feed the court. If all else fails, my presence in his court and his anger at the Summer King and his frustration with Bananach upset him enough that he has emotion to spare. It isn’t a forever solution, but it buys us time.”

Ani rolled her eyes. Having an emotional king was proving useful to the faeries that needed to feed on emotions. That and the upheaval between the seasonal courts left the Dark Court nourished enough to survive—but not to thrive. It didn’t help Ani’s other need though. “I need more, Iri.”

“Can you have unsupervised contact without weakening them? Without killing them? Without exposing what you are? Without endangering yourself ?” Irial’s gentleness was vanishing. “Tell me that you have the self-control to do so.”

She couldn’t lie, but she could avoid the question. “I don’t hurt you, and no one is here to stop me.”

He gave her a wry grin. “Sweetheart, I’m a Gancanagh again, and I have enough self-control to keep my emotions locked away from you when I need to. A mortal or a faery— even a strong faery—who lets you have both…”

Ani thought of him, the faery she’d met. It was just a brief flittering thought, but Irial caught her expression.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing really. He was fine… I mean, I think he was.” Ani licked her lips unconsciously and then realized what she’d done. She looked away.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t a weak faery though… and he seemed fine when he walked away.” Ani looked over at her former king. “He did walk away. No one saw, except Seth… and he wouldn’t expose me. I don’t think. Right? He wouldn’t?”

“Tell me.”

So she did. She told him every single detail about the faery she’d kissed at the Crow’s Nest, and then she added, “He vanished afterward.”

Irial said nothing for several moments. “He took your blood.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was half out-of-it. If he’s a problem, if he finds me and is a threat, I could… you know… not stop.” She pushed away the guilt at the thought of willingly killing the faery she’d met. She was Dark Court, and in the Dark Court, survival sometimes meant doing things that were unpalatable.

“If it’s unavoidable, you will do exactly that.” Irial’s words weren’t backed by kingship, but they both knew she’d obey him.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Hey, maybe I can be the permanent court punishment or a Trojan horse sent to the Summer Court to hurt the Summer King. ‘You’ll have to go kiss Ani, bad little faeries.’ Faeries, mortals, half- lings… If I sat in Niall’s place, I could feed the court. They could gorge. Would Niall hand the throne over if he knew? Or would he kill me so my monstrousness is—”

“Ani… stop. We’ll sort it out. I know you don’t want to kill anyone like that.” Irial paused, weighing the words even as his emotions drifted into sadness. “For some faeries, the tangling of affection and death is too personal. It’s not a flaw. Niall isn’t… he prefers…” The words started and stopped as the no-lying injunction interfered. Irial sighed. “Niall hasn’t always been comfortable with the consequences of being a Gancanagh. Our touch addicts mortals; yours drains them. The cost for them is ultimately the same.”

“And you?” Ani had wondered, more than a few times. Gancanaghs left mortals starving for affection, drove them mad with wanting and never being sated. Being Dark King made Irial safe for centuries, but now Niall was safe and Irial was once more addictive to mortals. And had been before. She held Irial’s gaze and asked, “Did you… were you okay with the ones you killed?”

“Sometimes.”

She swallowed against her dry mouth. “Oh.”

“For most of my life, I’ve led the court of nightmares, Ani. I’ve damaged the two people I’ve loved.” He let his emotions wash over her—sorrow, anger, but not regret. “I bound the Summer King, who was a friend’s son. I’ve ordered more deaths than I could count, done things too perverse to speak of.”

“Do you regret any of it?” she whispered.

“No.” Irial paused at a sound. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor, stopped outside the door, but then turned away. “I made the best decisions I could. I took care of my court. I still do. Sometimes that means killing people. My court— and now my king—come first.”

“I would do whatever my king ordered,” she assured him. “I’d rather not kill with this though. Give me a fair fight and—”

“I know.” Irial pulled her into his embrace, holding her carefully. “He wouldn’t like using your hunger as a weapon any more than you would.”

“You would. You still do the things Niall wouldn’t want to.”

Irial didn’t answer, but it wasn’t really a question. “We’ll figure it out. You’ll be strong and safe, Ani.”

She lifted her head and looked up at him. “Can I crash here for a few?”

“Keep your clothes on, and you’re welcome to stay.”