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“What good is fealty if I can’t command you?”
“I would follow any order you gave me, Niall, as long as it didn’t endanger Leslie…or you.” Irial emptied the glass. “Ask me to carve out my heart. Tell me to betray our court, the court I’ve lived to serve and protect for longer than you’ve existed, and I would obey you. You are my king.”
The intensity of Niall’s earlier anger was equaled now by hope and fear in even measures.
“You both need me, and”—Irial set the glass down, pushed in his chair, and let the moment stretch out just a bit longer as Niall’s hope overwhelmed his fear—“I will not fail either of you ever again.”
The Dark King didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to: Irial could taste the relief, the confusion, and the growing sliver of contentment.
“Go see her. Be her friend if nothing else. You are safe for her to touch now. I made sure of it.” Irial paused. “And Niall? Let her believe it was me who solved her problem.”
Niall’s expression was unwavering; he admitted nothing in look or word.
Irial crouched down in front of him and caught his gaze. “She won’t think less of me for it. It’s you she still sees as tamer than we are. Let her keep that.”
“Why?”
“Because you both need the illusion”—Irial put a hand on Niall’s knee as he stood, testing the ever-changing boundaries—“and because you need each other.”
Niall looked away. “And you.”
Irial lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Love works like that.”
For a moment, they simply stared at one another. Then Niall stood, intentionally invading Irial’s space. “It does.”
Irial froze. An admission? He stayed as motionless as he could, waiting. “Niall?”
Niall shook his head. “I can’t forget. I wish I could….”
“Me too,” Irial whispered. “I’d give you anything I have to undo the past. I couldn’t protect you. Not from yourself, not from my—”
“Our,” Niall interjected.
“Our court.” Irial leaned his forehead against Niall’s. “I would, though. Not for a touch. Not for a forgetting. I just want to take away the scars.”
Niall froze, then.
Irial smiled. He reached up to touch the scar on Niall’s face. “Not that you are any less for them, but because they mean you were hurt.”
“Regrets are foolish.” Niall smiled, tentatively. “We had other…things I remember too.”
“We did.” Irial hadn’t ever felt as careful, as hopeful, as he’d been these past few months.
“You taste so afraid right now,” Niall whispered. “You gave me all the power. The court, your fealty…”
“You could sentence me to death on a whim.”
“Why?” Niall sounded, in that moment, as young as he’d been when they first met.
“If that’s what would make you finally forgive me—”
“Not that…You stood by. You let me offer myself to the court. You didn’t hurt me.” Niall shuddered.
“I didn’t stop it either.”
“I forgive you.” Niall’s words were shaky. “I know you don’t understand why I made that bargain. I didn’t understand why you didn’t step in—”
“They’d have killed you,” Irial interrupted. “If I tried to unmake your offer, they’d have killed you, the mortals you were trying to save…. The court wasn’t as orderly then as they are now. They’re not an easy people to rule. If I could’ve talked to you without them knowing, if I could’ve stopped you, if I had told you what you were, if I wasn’t me…There are a lot of ifs, love, but the fact is that it was twelve centuries ago. I’ve been doing penance as best I could.”
