“For our court and at our queen’s will and word, your lives are ended,” Devlin said as he lowered the Ly Erg to the gaping hole that opened in the stone.

He repeated the action, sacrificing the third faery.

Then he held out his bloodied hand to her. “My Queen?”

With her feet in the soil, she knew that for an instant he wanted her to rebuke him for enjoying the Ly Ergs’ deaths. He dared her to chastise him as he stood with spilled blood on his hand. He hoped for it.

The court lifted their gazes to the dais.

Sorcha smiled reassuringly at Devlin and then out at them. “Brother.”

The silvered threads in her skin thrummed with energy as they retracted into her skin again. She took his hand and stepped to the already immaculate floor where the remaining Ly Erg stood and looked longingly at the blood on her hand.

“Neither your king nor Bananach can grant consent in Faerie. Follow the rules.” She kissed his forehead. “This time you are granted mercy in exchange for carrying word to your king.”

She turned to her brother and nodded. Without another word, he led her through her faeries, away from the Hall and into the still of her garden. That, too, was routine. They did as order required, and then she retreated to nature’s quiet while he retreated to the mortal plane.

This time, however, Devlin would seek out the errant mortal. This Seth Morgan was an aberration. If his actions had drawn Bananach’s attention, he required further study.

When Seth came out of the stacks that afternoon, Quinn was waiting. The guard’s expression was falsely friendly.

“I don’t need an escort,” Seth muttered as he passed the guard and went to check out his newest folklore books.

His objection didn’t matter.

Once Seth shoved the books into his satchel, Quinn motioned toward the exit. “If you’re ready?”

Seth would rather walk alone, but he had no chance of convincing the guard to disobey orders. The world was dangerous to a fragile mortal. Aislinn insisted the guards look after him at all times. He got it, but it took increasing effort to bite back vitriolic replies and resist escape attempts. Which is stupid.

He walked silently past Quinn and kept silent as they made their way to the Crow’s Nest, where he found Niall waiting at the street-side door. The Dark King leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette and tapping his foot in time to whatever music they had playing inside. Unlike Keenan and Aislinn, Niall had no guards accompanying him or lurking nearby. It was just him—and he was a very welcome sight.

Quinn spared Niall a look of contempt. “He’s not of our court anymore.”

Niall stood silent as Quinn scowled at him. He’d changed since he’d become the Dark King; the obvious difference was that he was letting his previously close-shorn hair grow. That wasn’t the real difference though—when Niall had been with Keenan’s court, he moved with a sense of caution, as if being alert to potential threats was essential. It hadn’t mattered where they were; even in the safety of the loft, Niall was vigilant. Now, he held himself with an easy comfort. His casual nonchalance said that nothing and no one could harm him—which was true to a large degree. The heads of the courts were vulnerable to only the other reigning monarchs or a few exceptionally influential solitary faeries. Niall, like Aislinn, was nearly impervious to fatal harm now.

Quinn lowered his voice as he added, “You can’t trust the Dark Court. Our court and theirs do not mingle.”

Seth shook his head even as a smile threatened. Niall’s intentionally provocative posture, the way Quinn resituated himself as if for an attack—a few short weeks ago, Niall would have responded the same way to the last Dark King. It’s all relative. Niall had changed. Or maybe he was always this ready to provoke trouble, and Seth hadn’t noticed.

Seth held Niall’s gaze as he asked, “Do you mean me harm?”

“No.” Niall gave Quinn a deadly look. “And I am far more able to keep you safe than Keenan’s bootlicker.”

Quinn bristled but didn’t speak.

“I’m not going to be safer anywhere else. Seriously,” Seth told Quinn in an even voice, not letting either amusement or irritation show. “Niall’s my friend.”

“What if—”

“Gods, just go away,” Niall interrupted as he stalked toward them with a menace that suited him far too well. “Seth is safe in my company. I wouldn’t put a friend in danger. That would be your king who treats his friends so carelessly.”

“I don’t imagine our king would approve,” Quinn insisted, speaking only to Seth, looking only at Seth.

Seth arched one brow. “I have no king. I’m mortal, remember?”

“I’ll need to report this to Keenan.” Quinn waited for several heartbeats, as if the threat would matter to Seth. When it was apparent that it didn’t, he turned and left.

Once he was out of sight, the menace vanished from Niall’s expression. “Nitwit. I can’t believe Keenan raised him to advisor. He’s a yes-man without any moral compass, and—” He stopped himself. “It’s not my concern. Come.”

He opened the door and they went into the pervasive gloom of the Crow’s Nest. It was a comforting sort of dankness—no swooping birds or frolicking Summer Girls. Seth felt at ease there. Back when his parents were still around, he’d spent many afternoons there with his father. In truth, Seth had practically grown up in the Crow’s Nest. It’d changed, but when Seth looked at it, he could still see his mom behind the bar sassing some fool who made the mistake of thinking she was a pushover. More like a bulldozer. Linda was tiny, but what she lacked in size she made up for in temper. Seth hadn’t been more than fourteen when he realized that his father’s presence at the bar was simply an excuse to be around Linda. He’d claimed he got bored at home, tired of retirement, restless without a job, so he did small repairs at the bar. It wasn’t boredom; it was about being nearer to Linda.

I miss them. Seth let the memories come. It was okay to do so here. It was the closest thing to a family home he had these days.

Linda hadn’t really taken to the whole mother thing. She loved him; he had no doubt about that, but when she married Seth’s dad it wasn’t in hopes of settling down and starting a family. The moment Seth was old enough, she had another scheme to go somewhere new. His dad had shrugged and gone along without hesitation.

Or thought to invite me along.

Seth put a stop to that train of thought as Niall led the way to a table that was pushed into the darkest corner of the room. They walked past the diehard drinkers who were already several beers into their afternoon. The midday crowd was an odd mix of office workers and bikers and people between jobs or whose seasonal work hadn’t hit its stride yet.

They picked a table with some privacy, and Seth unfolded one of the battered menus he’d snatched from the next table.

“It hasn’t changed.” Niall pointed at the menu. “And you’ll order the same thing.”

“True, but I like looking at it. I like that it’s the same.” Seth waved one of the waitresses over and placed his order.

Afterward, when it was just the two of them, Niall gave him an odd look and asked, “Do I seem the same to you?”

“There’s more shadows”—Seth gestured at the air around Niall where whispery shapes swayed and spiraled into each other—“around you, and the whole weird-eyes thing is new. Creepier than Ash’s too. She gets seas and nice stuff mostly. You? There’s weird abyss people.”

Niall didn’t look happy about that detail. “Irial still has the same eyes.”

Seth knew better than to pursue that topic. Niall’s relationship with the last Dark King was never something to bring up when Niall was already melancholy. Instead, Seth told him, “You seem happier.”