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Sorcha didn’t flinch from his gaze. “I needed you to be bound to my court even more than you were bound
to the others. By giving you a part of me, I knew I would be no longer balanced by Bananach. I believe now—as I did then—that you are the key to her death.” She looked away. “I thought you might die as a result, but not that your death would matter to me.”
“We cannot see our own futures,” he reminded her.
“I saw yours until you became mine. You would have died. If I hadn’t remade you, you would be dead now. My sister would have tortured you, and your Ash would have led her court to a battle they could not win.” Sorcha frowned. “I would not object to the Summer Queen’s death, but I did not want War to have what she sought. If I gave you this”—Sorcha motioned around Faerie—“you would be mine to use as I required.”
Seth felt the flash of unease he’d felt when he first met Sorcha, remembered how alien she was to him, but he also remembered that mere days ago she had come near to destroying Faerie because she missed him. He smiled at his mother and assured her, “I don’t blame you. You gave me what I sought—even if it was for your own selfish reasons.”
“And for your selfish reasons, Seth.” The High Queen almost laughed then. “You are impertinent, but I am glad that you are mine.”
Seth felt his tension vanish. His queen, his mother, was serene again, and she’d admitted that which she hadn’t wanted to tell him, that which he’d known already: she’d intended to use and then discard him.
“Devlin’s decision to close the gate to you was wise,” he said.
Sorcha leveled an unreadable gaze on him, but she said nothing.
“I saw that,” Seth said. “Not with future sight, but with logic, and I can guarantee that if I don’t survive, he will be here for you. You may not call him your son”—he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to object—“but he is. He loves you, and he will be here if you need him. Faerie is in good hands.”
“You are impertinent,” she repeated, but her tone was undeniably affectionate.
“I love you too.” He kissed her cheek.
“Far Dorcha walks in Huntsdale. He is, like all death-fey, able to bring about the end of life for any faery. Unlike most death-fey, he is the only being allowed to do so without consent or order.” The High Queen paused. “When War strikes, he will be there, as will his sister, Ankou. You must not let them touch you.”
“I will do what I must do. It’s why you made me, Mother. Bananach won’t stop,” Seth reminded her. “Those within Faerie will be safe. You are safe. Sealing the gate has done that . . . and I will go to Huntsdale and do what you sought: I will try to kill her. I’ve been training with the Hounds for this reason. They will want her death now. Niall will. It’s what we all want.”
Sorcha turned away to watch the garden as it shifted around them, and Seth felt as much as saw the moods she was trying to keep in order. She was balanced now, but she was still unused to having emotions.
After several moments, she turned her attention back to him. “I do not like when the consequences of a choice are not what I wish them to be. I want you to . . . I want you to not go, but since you are going, I require a promise that you will not get injured as Irial did. He could have avoided it. If you can avoid injury, you will do so.”
Wisely, Seth decided n
ot to answer. Instead, he asked, “Did you know he would do that?”
Sorcha nodded. “And you?”
“I did,” Seth admitted. “I looked at the other possibilities. They were worse.”
“It would be better if Niall did not know of your foreseeing Irial’s death.” She frowned, and the garden became less orderly. “He cares a great deal for Irial’s well-being. He’s denied it for centuries, but his denial was transparent to many of us.”
“And the new Shadow Court? How will that affect him?” Seth prompted.
“My court balanced the Dark for forever. Without the balance, Niall will be . . . unwell.” The High Queen lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “The gates are sealed to me, so that world is not my concern.”
“You know he matters to me, Mother. He’s my sworn brother. When I was vulnerable, surrounded by faeries, he protected me. He gave me family before I found you, and he’s taken me into his.” Seth frowned. “I want him to be well; I need that.”
“I will be his balance again. . . . Simply convince the Shadow Court to disband; convince them to unlock the gates from Faerie to the mortal world,” she suggested.
“No.”
“Then there is nothing I can do. Niall will fall, or he won’t. I am unable to assist in either path.” Sorcha kissed both of Seth’s cheeks. “No foolish sacrifices.”
“I can’t make that promise,” he admitted. “There are three faeries I’d sacrifice myself for. Two of them are in the mortal world.”
“In fairness, you should know that I would kill them to keep you from doing that.” Sorcha began to walk toward his quarters, and he followed.
“Which is yet another benefit of the gates being barred to you,” Seth said.
