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“I don’t tr—” The words Niall attempted to say became unpronounceable. “I don’t want you dead, Iri. I can find a new advisor. . . . Tell him yes, so we can get to work setting things in order.”
“Discord doesn’t generally work at putting things in order.” Irial’s smile returned.
Far Dorcha shook his head. “No one else has ever tricked Death, so I
suppose it’s fitting that you fill the unkillable role.”
“I never have been much for rules.” Irial’s insubstantial form became solid as they watched. “You have to admit that it was a good loophole.”
The incredulous look Far Dorcha gave him made quite clear that he wasn’t going to admit anything, but as the Dark Man turned his back to Irial and Niall, he winked at Seth.
As Seth watched, threads became steady and stretched into the future.
Death was smiling as he walked toward Ankou; Niall’s tension seemed to vanish as Irial murmured something too softly for anyone else to hear.
Then Aislinn leaned her head on Seth’s arm. “Let’s get out of here?”
He had unresolved business with Niall, but given the option of dealing with Niall or being with Aislinn . . . there was no choice. He tightened his arms around her, but before they took two steps, the Summer Court’s advisor cleared his throat.
“If I could borrow you for a moment, my Queen?” Tavish said as he joined them. “I will handle what’s here, but I need you to make a few decisions before you depart.”
The Summer Queen looked at Seth. “Give me a sec?”
He nodded.
Tavish led Aislinn a few steps away, and Seth was left standing with Niall and Irial.
With a smile, Irial turned to Niall. “Far Dorcha deserves just a little more discord in his life. See you inside?”
After a grateful look at Irial’s departing figure, Niall turned to face Seth. They stood in silence for only as long as it took to assure that no one overheard them.
“I was angry,” Niall said.
Seth folded his arms.
The Dark King rubbed a hand over his face. “If Ash had been killed, you would’ve been unwell too.”
“That’s a reason, not an excuse.” Seth gestured at the burn on the side of his face. “You were going to burn my eye, man. That’s so far from forgivable.”
“I didn’t.”
“Because Leslie stopped you.” Seth stepped closer. “You considered letting Far Dorcha kill me.”
“I didn’t offer you to him,” Niall said.
“You told me last year that you didn’t want me to see the ugly part of the Dark Court, that you didn’t want the whole bastard thing”—Seth paused, weighing the words, trying to balance hurt and logic—“to affect me . . . that I wouldn’t see you the same if I did.”
The hope in Niall’s expression was at odds with the battered state he was in. “You told me I was wrong.”
“You were right.” Seth stared directly at Niall. “I don’t see you the same way.”
“I’m sorry,” Niall said.
“I’m not an idiot. I knew what you were. Objectively, I got it. If you weren’t capable of horrible choices, you wouldn’t be a faery. If you weren’t capable of doing those things, you wouldn’t have been able to be the Dark King.”
“You mean horrible like keeping secrets that lead to deaths and violence and chaos?” Niall snorted.
“And caging your friends? And getting unthroned by War because you’re unbalanced and acting like an ass?” Seth clasped the Dark King’s upper arm. “I don’t see you the same, but I can live with what I do see. You’re my brother.”
