“Niall?” Seth let go of Aislinn and stepped around the abyss dancers. “Chill.”

“He doesn’t speak, does he, Seth?” Niall had curled his hands into fists.

“I know where I stand.” Seth knew Keenan had mixed feelings. He hadn’t acted to injure Seth, but it would be a surprise if he hadn’t considered it. At length. Probably with Tavish advising him on the risks. Seth wasn’t going there, though; it didn’t help things. “I don’t need to hear his answer.”

“Ash does.” Niall’s posture was still, but shadows rippled out from him onto the brick wall behind Keenan. The black bars could solidify into a cage. “Back away, Seth. Please.”

Seth moved farther from the small space where the two kings stood glaring at each other. After seeing the conflict with the raven-faery, Seth was aware that standing between these two was a bad idea. Mortals are too fragile. The thought disgusted him, but it was true. I am too easily broken by them. By all of them.

“Keenan wouldn’t hurt Seth,” Aislinn murmured. She came over and took Seth’s hand. “I wouldn’t forgive that, and he knows it.”

Niall spared her a censorious glance. “Really?”

Sunbeams flickered around her as she became irritated with Niall. “Yes, really.”

They all paused at a commotion in the doorway. Summer Court guards were attempting to refuse entrance to a group of heavily decorated faeries. It didn’t work. Gabriel, the Hound who was the left hand of the Dark Court, sauntered in. With him were six other Hounds—including Chela, Gabriel’s rough and strangely sweet mate—and Gabriel’s half-mortal daughter Ani. The tread of Gabriel’s feet reverberated through the floor. The wave of fear the Hounds brought in their wake rippled across the room.

And Seth was once more grateful for the anti-glamour charm Niall had given him. He might be breakable, but he was not susceptible to the Hounds’ fear, to any of their glamours. Donia had given him the Sight, but that only allowed him to See them. Niall gave him protection from the way they could toy with his emotions.

“Gabe,” Seth said, not sure if the Hounds’ arrival was good news or not. They weren’t known for counseling caution or calm. “Good to see you…I think.”

Gabriel laughed. “We’ll see.”

Chela winked. “Mortal.”

Niall didn’t look away from Keenan. “You hurt Seth, and I will not forgive you. He’s my friend, under the Dark Court’s protection.”

“Keenan is not going to hurt Seth,” Aislinn interjected. “And our court keeps him safe already. He doesn’t need you.”

Keenan gave a bland look to Niall and then asked Seth, “Do you offer fealty to the Dark Court, Seth Morgan?”

“No.”

“Do you offer it to the Summer Court?”

Seth felt Aislinn tense beside him. “No, but I wouldn’t turn down friendship with either if it’s offered.”

“There’s a cost….” Keenan’s guileless expression was disingenuous, a sort of lie. “Pain, sex, blood, there are many horrible prices the Dark Court can demand. Are you going to be willing to pay what they ask for to buy protection?”

“Seth?” The worry in Aislinn’s voice was real. She was the only one in the room who might believe that Keenan was trying to help Seth.

In offering his court’s friendship, Niall had thrown an unasked-for lifeline, not a trap. Seth got that. Even if she doesn’t see it. A court’s friendship was more than just Niall’s friendship: it meant that those who swore fealty to that throne would act as if he were one of their own. It meant he’d have many of the benefits of belonging to a court without the obligations or duties. Considering how vulnerable he was, it meant he had strength to call upon—from a court that many of the solitaries, the High Court, and the Summer Court feared. Even if it didn’t irritate Keenan, it would be appealing.

“It’s cool,” Seth assured Aislinn. “Niall is my friend.”

“The friendship of not just the Dark King but the Dark Court is offered, to be paid with blood and no other coin,” Niall said. His eyes held fear that Seth would reject his offer.

“Accepted.” Seth stretched his wrist out in front of him and waited. He didn’t reach toward Niall or the Hounds. The details of what would follow were utterly unclear to him. Most everyone there could draw blood without a blade, but they also all carried weapons of some sort. It was doubtful that anyone other than Niall would bleed him, and even if they did, Seth trusted that Gabriel and Chela—the two next highest-ranking dark faeries—would be cautious with his safety.

Only Keenan means me harm.

“I trust you,” Seth said—to Niall, to the Hounds.

“I am honored.” Niall leaned in and lowered his voice to say, “But Dark Kings really don’t resist temptation very well.”

Then, with a wicked grin, he turned and slammed his fist into Keenan’s face with enough force that the Summer King’s head hit the brick wall with a loud thud.

In a breath, the faeries all became invisible.

Aislinn rushed to Keenan’s side as he crumpled and fell.

The Hounds surged forward to stand like a wall of menace alongside Niall.

The abyss dancers shimmied.

And Niall licked his knuckles. “Sealed and paid with blood. The rules don’t say it has to be your blood, Seth.”

Aislinn put herself between Keenan and Niall before the thought to protect her king had even finished forming. “Stop.”

“You don’t want to try me right now.” Niall turned his back on her and started to walk away.

She followed. On some level she understood that her temper was propelling her to act foolishly, but it didn’t matter. Her king was wounded at this faery’s hand. She had to strike out at anyone who would attack their court; she had to crush anyone who would weaken them.

Niall’s action isn’t about the court, though. Niall and Keenan hadn’t resolved their conflicts, and Niall believed that Keenan was a threat to Seth. This is personal, not court. Logic tried to interfere with impulse. But Keenan is hurt.

She took hold of Niall’s arm. The smell of sizzling skin was instant. Her sunlight had flared brighter than she realized.

Niall didn’t flinch. Instead he drew his arm—and therefore her—tight to his body. Her fingers were pressed against his chest, burning small holes in his shirt. Instead of pulling away from her, he held her close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Once she did, Niall said, “My court would like more conflict with yours…and I”—he smiled—“I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“Let go.” She tugged her hand and concentrated so she was no longer injuring him.

He gripped her wrist. “Any blood would’ve done the trick, but I wanted his. I’m not in violation of any laws for doing it. And, really? I suspected I’d enjoy it more this way”—he looked beyond her and grinned at Keenan lying prone on the ground—“and I did.”

Then he released her.

She backed away carefully. “You hurt him.”

“And you injured me. The difference, Aislinn, is that I’d do it every day if I could find justification. Would you?” Niall didn’t sound like the same faery who’d helped her get used to her new role as Summer Queen, and he surely didn’t sound like the faery who’d wooed Leslie. Those faces were gone, and what stood in front of her was a faery that rivaled the worst of the ones she’d hid from as a child.

Her sunlight barely in check, she glared at him. “I’m not the one starting fights.”

“Shall I start one? Really start the conflict they crave? My court whispers and chants tales of what we could do while your court is still weak. It grows hard not to listen.” His dark dancers swayed around him like shadows come to life. Gabriel and several other Hounds stood waiting.

This could get uglier than we can handle.