They hadn’t brought a lot of people with them. She wasn’t expecting trouble. Sure, there were rumblings of discord, but faeries were always in small dissentions. The court rulers kept that in check. Niall had been one of the good guys. Donia was one of the good guys. The two courts that had caused trouble for hers were both led by faeries who’d been confidants—and more—to Keenan. He’d trusted that their past would protect the Summer Court. He knew they were out of sorts, but he hadn’t thought it was severe enough to lead to any true problems. It’s not the way faery courts work, Aislinn, he’d assured her. We aren’t so quick to strike out, he’d promised. And she’d believed him—until now.

“Do I frighten you, Ash?” Niall’s voice was a low whisper, as if they were the only two people in the room. “Do I remind you of why you thought we were monsters?”

“Yes.” Her own voice came out shaky.

“Good.” He glanced to the side of her, where a wall of shadows had formed. Outside that wall lay the only faery there, other than her, who could tear down those shadows, but she wasn’t sure how to, and Keenan was unconscious on the ground.

As if the detail were of only casual interest, Niall added, “Your king never learned to fight. He had me and all the rest to do it for him.”

The wall of shadows grew and enclosed the two of them in a bubble. She pushed against it; the texture was simultaneously feathery and slick. New moon. Hunger. Fear. The touch of it made her shiver. Need. Drowning under black waves of need. Teeth.

She jerked her hand away and forced herself to focus on the conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“Protecting the mortal you love?” Niall shook his head. “I won’t have Keenan break him too, and you’ve proven that you won’t defend your friends from him. You’re good for your court, but your mortals…”

“Your court did that to Leslie.”

“And you could’ve saved her. If you’d offered her your court’s protection before he took her—” He broke the sentence off with a growl. “You failed her just as you’ll fail Seth.”

“I made mistakes, but I would never hurt Seth. I love him.” Aislinn felt her own temper getting less stable. Niall had trapped her, struck her king, and intimated that Seth was vulnerable because of her. Earlier she’d hurt Niall by accident, lack of control, but now…now, she wanted to hurt him. Severely. Her temper was flaring, and in that moment, she saw no reason to try to control it. The air inside the shadow bubble was growing blisteringly hot. She could taste acrid desert air, sand against her lips.

“Strike me, Ash. Go ahead. Give me leave to let my court loose on yours. Convince me that I should let them torture your frail Summer Girls. Invite me to permit them to draw rowan blood,” he whispered in a tone meant for bedrooms and candlelight. That was the nature of the Dark Court, though—violence and sex, fear and lust, anger and passion. He reached out and caressed her cheek as he added, “Allow me to give in to their desires.”

Irial was less dangerous to us. That was Niall’s weak spot—Irial. Stop treating him like a friend. Don’t think of him like a mortal. Her mind tangled trying to figure what move made sense here. So much she’d learned about faeries was no longer useful. She’d long since surrendered the ability to live by most of the rules Grams had taught her. One rule was still helpful though: If I run, they’ll chase.

She came closer, advancing on him. “The last Dark King thought to tempt me. Here. In this same place…”

Niall laughed, looking almost joyous for a brief flash, but that pleasure was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “If he’d truly tried, he would’ve had you. He didn’t try you, Ash…you were a momentary distraction, a quick flirt. Irial’s just that way.”

“Keenan says you’re like Irial—a Gancanagh. He didn’t explain that to me before,” she admitted, not proud of her king’s deceits or the results, but willing to be honest. “Are you still? Are you addictive?”

“Why? You want a taste?”

Something feral waited. She saw it under the thin veneer of civility that was still Niall. It wasn’t a surface she wanted to crack. Logic warned her away, but she didn’t heed it. “So we really should start treating You like Irial….”

“No”—Niall put his hand on her shoulders and pushed her until she was crushed between the wall of shadows and him—“you should remember that Irial didn’t really want to hurt Keenan. I do. I only need an excuse. Will you give me one, Ash?”

The feel of that wall behind her body was overwhelming. Dangerous temptations whispered on her skin; things she would rather not consider came rushing to her mind. Keenan under my hands. Mine. Not just a taste, but drowning in him. It wasn’t a Dark Court faery she wanted, but it was Dark Court energy that made her mind go places it really shouldn’t. Dark Court temptations made her think of the faery she wanted, not the mortal she loved. Her heart felt too fast in her chest as the shadows pulled her under her fears and lust.

“I want—” She bit down on her lip, not speaking those words, not admitting that she thought of Keenan in that instant.

“I know what you want, Ash. What I want is to wound him.” Niall looked through the shadows at Keenan. “I want him to cross lines that would justify attacking him.”

“Justify?” She tried to push away from the shadows that were cradling her.

“To myself. To Donia. To Seth.”

“But…”

“My court wants it. It’s a big part of why they embrace me as their king…. It’s why Bananach flaunts herself in my chambers every moment she can. She comes to me, bloodied and hungry for whatever anger I have.” Niall looked at Seth, who pushed futilely against the shadow barrier. “Seth wants you. He loves you. Keep him safe from Keenan…or I’ll have more than reason to let loose the perversions and cruelty of my court.”

She looked through the barrier. Seth was saying something, but his words were blocked by the smoky wall. His expression, however, wasn’t. He was livid. Her very calm Seth was anything but peaceful.

“If Seth would forgive me, Ash, I would use you as my excuse to provoke your king.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You hurt Leslie by your stupidity. You hurt me.”

He pushed her into the shadow wall until she thought her heart would fail. Terror surged through her, sliding into her stillest corners and prodding all her fears and doubts to fruition. Alone. Not good enough. Weak. Stupid. Destroying Seth. Wounding my court. Failing my king.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted Leslie to be hurt. You know that….” She forced her mind to focus, calling on the warmth inside of her, the peace of summer sun that was her own strength. It wasn’t enough—not against a faery king who knew what he was doing. “I know you aren’t really this cruel. You’re a good person.”

“You’re wrong.” Niall’s gaze darted to Gabriel and the other Hounds, who were shadowy outlines outside the cage Niall had erected around the two of them. Then, finally, he pulled her away from the wall of darkness. “Ask your Summer Girls if I am a white hat. Ask Keenan when he rouses. Ask yourself if your fears of me are well founded. You’re all alone with a monster, Aislinn…and your lusts, your fears, your angers are like blood-lures.”

But I am not alone. That simple statement made the difference. There was a person on the other side of the wall who loved her, and there was a faery who was a part of her. Seth gave her courage; Keenan gave her sunlight. She let herself draw her own and Keenan’s sunlight into her skin; that familiar warmth chased away the thick shadows that had invaded her body. “I need to go. Drop the wall.”

“Or?”

Without any thought beyond making the Dark King bend to the Summer Court, she shoved that sunlight forward, pushing it into Niall’s skin. Languor and satiation, bodies musky with summer’s sun, a sirocco’s biting winds—all of it surged into him. Fair pay for the shadows. It was the full weight of summer’s pleasure with a tinge of pain. “We are stronger now. Don’t provoke him…or me.”