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Keenan wanted to strike out, but it wasn’t truly Irial: Niall’s body would feel any blows. “Do you have a point?”
“I don’t fully regret binding you. I did what I had to do for my court, but I respected Miach enough to be sorry that I had to hurt his son. Beira’s grief led to troubles. It’s why Bananach manipulated your parents. She has been manipulating us as she did them.” Irial blew smoke in Keenan’s direction again. “Niall’s grief would be more deadly, if not for actions I took. He is unbalanced and grieving. He needs friends. Allies. You need to help him.”
“I know.” Keenan waved the smoke out of his face. “And I’ll tell him you’re . . . here—assuming he listens. I gather that’s what you want.”
“Yes.” Irial smiled, and seeing the familiar half-laughing smile of the former Dark King on Niall’s face was disconcerting. “You do know, of course, that he’s not forgiven you. He’s a grudge holder, so you’ll need to try to convince him. Ahhh. I could tell you something delectable that no one else would know. A little detail to convince him our dreams were real—what do you think?”
“Go away, Irial.”
Laughter greeted Keenan’s discomfort, and then Irial said, “If you’re sure . . . I’d take a step or two back if I were you. Then again, I never did like you, so . . .”
Keenan rolled his eyes, but he retreated all the same as Niall came back into possession of himself.
Confusion flickered over Niall’s face. “You cannot just walk into my home.” He shoved Keenan against the wall, and then paused.
He peered into Keenan’s eyes. “What did you do? You’re . . . different.”
“I gave up my throne.”
Niall’s anger fled under shock, but he still had one hand pressing Keenan against the wall. “Why?”
“The Summer Court needed a stronger regent.” Keenan ticked the reasons off on his fingers. “I needed to be with the faery I love; the Summer Queen needed to be with the one she loves; and you need a temporary advisor.”
“A temp—you . . .” Niall looked from Keenan to his own hand. He released Keenan and frowned, seemingly confused by the sight of the lit cigarette between his fingers. “Why would I accept you?”
Keenan kept his voice even. “You were there for me, Niall. Let me be here. The courts all need to be strengthened. Bananach will destroy us all if we don’t do something. Irial wants you to know—”
“No!” Niall slammed Keenan into the wall a second time. “Irial—”
“Is inside your body somehow
. I just spoke to him. You. Him in your body. He wants you to know he’s still here.” Keenan stayed perfectly still. “Do you remember me arriving?”
“No, not really.” Niall’s voice held a thread of hope as he asked, “Irial is here?”
“He is. Inside you.”
“I’m not mad?”
Keenan shook his head, and then looked pointedly at the cigarette that was now burning a hole in his shirt. “I won’t swear to that, Niall, but you’re not mad for thinking Irial is here . . . there. With you somehow.”
Silently, Niall released him. “I hear him. I thought . . . I thought I was fractured.”
“You imprisoned Seth. You skewered your faeries.” Keenan shook his head again. “I’m not going to pretend to understand what you are doing, but whatever else is going on, you’re not imagining him. He said something about stitched dreams. Does that make sense?”
Niall turned his back to Keenan, but he nodded.
“He also said your shared dreams were real,” Keenan added.
The Dark King tensed at that revelation. His sudden stillness alarmed Keenan, and the awkwardness of the moment stretched out. When Niall finally spoke, he said, “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“He hurt you,” Keenan said simply. “When I was a child, I remember the way you looked when I asked about your scars. He let them hurt you, did nothing to keep you safe. I don’t understand how you can forgive him for failing you.”
“Donia almost died for your mistakes.” Niall turned to face him. His expression was unreadable. “You used me like a weapon against the Dark Court. Are you so sure you want to discuss forgiveness?”
“I made decisions that I thought were best for my court and my subjects—including you then.” Keenan didn’t flinch away from the censure that had entered Niall’s eyes as he spoke. “Kings aren’t always at liberty to let emotions overrule duty.”
“Exactly,” Niall said.
