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“Let me help y—”
/> “No,” the faery interrupted. “It is brass, not iron.”
For a moment, Seth felt a flicker of fear. Would Niall strike me? He looked at the destruction. Only one way to find out.
As he walked through the house, more than a few faeries lay bleeding. One Ly Erg dangled half on, half off a chandelier. The Ly Erg’s eyes were closed, but it appeared to be breathing.
Several Hounds walked up behind Seth. One, Elaina, asked quietly, “You sure you want to go in alone?”
“No,” Seth admitted, “but I’m going to.”
“The king is distraught. We could go in first so he can have someone to strike,” the female Hound suggested.
Seth shook his head. “I think I’d better go alone from here.”
The expression on Elaina’s face made quite clear that she thought he was being a fool.
She may be right.
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. “He is my brother.”
She scowled, but she held up both hands in defeat.
No one in the house appeared to be moving. The
faeries that Seth passed were either injured, unconscious, or staying still to avoid attention. Many were half buried under the apparent destruction of everything in the house.
Following the sounds of crashing glass, Seth made his way through rooms he’d never seen, down more hallways than seemed possible to fit into the dimensions of the building. Like Sorcha’s palace in Faerie. At the end of a hall was a room, and in the room was a very battered, bleeding Dark King. All around him, shadow figures—the same seemingly insubstantial amorphous bodies Seth had seen when they stood at Ani’s house—reassembled what remained of the contents of the room, handed them to Niall, and watched as he broke them again.
“Niall,” Seth said softly.
For a moment, Niall paused. He looked at Seth without recognition, and then he glanced at the green cut-glass decanter in his hand.
“Niall,” Seth repeated a little louder. “I’m here. I’ve come to help you.”
“He’s dead. Irial. Is. Dead.” Niall dropped the decanter and walked away.
After a few steps, Niall slammed his fist into the wall.
Seth grabbed him and pulled him backward. “Stop.”
Niall looked at Seth. “She killed him.”
“I know.” Seth held on to his friend’s arm. “I was there when she stabbed him. Remember?”
The Dark King nodded. “I tried to stop it. Healers . . . I
tried. . . . I failed. . . . I thought I wanted him dead once.
I thought that . . .” Niall’s words trailed off as he looked past Seth to the destruction in the hall. “I did that?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t remember. . . .” Niall reached up to rub his face, but he stopped mid-motion. “I didn’t remember things, but now . . . You make me remember. He died. I remember that. Irial is dead.”
“There are other things you need to remember. You can do this, Brother.” Seth waited. He couldn’t tell Niall what he saw. That was the limitation of being a seer. One of them at least. He couldn’t try to manipulate the future he wanted by telling Niall what could come to pass; Sorcha had explained that at length. As it was, he was playing with the rules more than he probably should.
“I’ve been trying; since you left, I tried. . . .” Niall shook his head.
