Niall made a rude sound that might have been a laugh. “I don’t think I’d call it happy.”

“More comfortable in your skin then.” Seth shrugged.

This time Niall laughed for real, a sound that seemed to cause everyone in the room—except Seth—to shiver or sigh longingly. Without thinking, Seth reached up to touch the stone he wore on a cord around his throat. It was an anti-glamour charm that Niall had given him; arguably it was to protect him from Niall’s uncontainable appeal to baser traits, but it had the side benefit of helping Seth resist other faery magicks as well.

Keenan never offered or even told me there were charms…. Seth shook his head. It was no secret that the Summer King wasn’t going to volunteer to do anything that would make life easier for Seth. If Aislinn suggested something, Keenan cooperated without hesitation, but he never initiated it. When Niall became the Dark King, he’d been free to share all manner of knowledge with Seth.

Niall said, almost casually, “Have you mentioned the charm to Ash?”

“No. You know she would ask Keenan why he hadn’t offered me one first…and I’m not sure I want to be the reason for yet another fight between them.”

“You’re a fool. I know why he didn’t offer you a charm. So do you. And if Ash found out about it, she would know as well.”

“All the more reason not to tell her. She’s having a rough time with the changes and balancing,” Seth said.

“And he’ll use every one of those things to his advantage if he can. He’s—” Niall stopped with a fierce look.

Seth followed Niall’s gaze. A dark-haired faery, with woad-written art on her face and arms like warriors in Celtic battle paintings, stood surrounded by a cluster of six shorter faeries with red-stained hands. The image of a raven shimmered over the top of the female faery’s face. Blue-black hair that was somehow also feathers stretched to her waist in tangled snarls. Unlike most faeries, both her faux-mortal face and birdlike features were visible, blinking in and out of dominance.

“Don’t get involved.” Niall moved his chair back away from the table as she approached.

She tilted her head in a decidedly not-human way. “What a pleasant surprise, Gancan—”

“No.” Niall’s temper snapped out with actual tendrils of shadow, invisible to the Un-Sighted mortals in the club. “Not ‘Gancanagh.’ King. Or have you forgotten?”

The faery who’d spoken didn’t flinch; instead she let her gaze slip slowly over Niall. “That’s right. Things are cloudy in my mind some days.”

“That is not why you chose to not-name me.” Niall didn’t stand yet, but he had angled his body in a position that would make sudden movement easier.

“Too true.” The birdlike faery’s posture tensed. “Would you fight me, my king? The battles I need are not near enough.”

Seth felt the tension grow increasingly thick. The other faeries had dispersed, taking up posts throughout the Crow’s Nest. They looked gleeful.

“Is that what you want?” Niall stood.

She licked her lips. “A little tussle would help me.”

“Do you challenge me?” He reached out and ran a hand through the faery’s feather-hair.

“Not yet. Not a real challenge, but blood…yes, I want that.” She leaned forward and snapped her mouth with an audible clack, and Seth wondered if she had an actual beak.

Niall fisted his hand in her hair and held her head away from him.

She swayed as if they were dancing. “I could ask after Irial. I could mention how wounded he is that you refuse his…counsel.”

“Bitch.”

“That’s all I get?” She glared at him. “A word? I come unbloodied. I come seeking you. I get a word? Is this how you treat me after—”

Niall punched her.

She tried to skewer his still-extended arm with the bone-white knife that she was now holding.

They were too fast for Seth to follow. What he could tell was that the faery was more than holding her own. In a few moments, Niall had a series of cuts that looked mostly shallow. He took her legs from under her, but she was up and on him before she even hit the ground.

In the blur of it, she appeared to have a raven’s beak and talons in addition to the short knife. The screeches from her beak-mouth were horrific sounds, battle cries that seemed like they should call the other faeries to her side. Instead, the faeries who’d come with her sat on tables and stools, watching silently.

Niall had her pinned briefly in an embrace of sorts—her back to his chest.

She stayed motionless for a moment. The look on her face was embarrassing to see: it was not unhappiness but an intimate sort of pleasure. She sighed. “You’re almost worth fighting.”

Then she flung her head backward into Niall’s face with such force that she bloodied his nose and mouth.

Niall didn’t release his hold, though. Instead, he loosed his right hand and cupped her head with it. He took her momentum and spun her to the ground. He kept her on the floor with one hand on her head and his body half on top of her. Niall stayed there, his body pinning the motionless faery.

She turned her bloodied face to his, and the two held each other’s gazes.

Uncomfortable, Seth looked away and realized that the waitress was standing beside him; she said something.

“What?”

The waitress spoke again. “Niall. I didn’t see him leave. Is he coming back?”

With a start, Seth remembered that she couldn’t see the faeries. Only he saw the fight. Only he saw them bloodied and tangled together. He nodded. “Yeah. He’ll be here.”

The waitress gave him an odd look. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just…you startled me.” He smiled. “Sorry.”

She nodded and moved on to another table.

Behind him, Seth heard Niall say, “My dear?”

Seth turned to see Niall stand and reach down to the faery. “Are we done?”

“Mmmm. Paused. Not done. Never done until you’re dead.” She took his hand and, with the liquid grace that characterized so many faeries, she came to her feet. Her eyes were unfocused as she gingerly touched her cheek. “That was good, my King.”

The Dark King nodded. He didn’t take his gaze away from her.

“I’ll come for you tonight,” she whispered in what was either a threat or a proposition.

Then she turned her head in a series of short jerky moves, locating each of the six red-palmed faeries unerringly. They moved in unison toward her. Without another word exchanged, the group left as suddenly as they’d arrived.

Niall glanced at Seth. “I’ll be right back.”

He left as well, and Seth sat there, stunned by the random violence and unsure what to think of it.

Seth realized that another person had seen the fight: a faery, invisible to Un-Sighted mortal eyes, stared at him from across the room. Coarse white hair was bound back into a tiny knot at the crown of his head. His features were sharp, angular in ways that made him seem carved. It was a different sort of sculpture than what Seth created, but in the instant, Seth’s hands itched for a block of dark stone to try to sculpt an opposite piece. The pale faery stood staring, and for a moment, Seth wondered if he was alive. He was so inflexible that the illusion of being carved was complete.

Once Niall returned a few minutes later, he was not so blood-covered. His glamour hid the state of his clothes and the cuts on his skin, so the only mortal in the room who saw that anything had changed was Seth.

When Niall sat down at the table again, Seth said, “Do you know him?”

Niall followed Seth’s gaze to the side of the room where the statuelike faery still stood. “Unfortunately.” Niall removed a cigarette case from a pocket and slid one out. “Devlin is Sorcha’s ‘peacekeeper,’ or her thug, depending on who’s doing the defining.”

The faery Devlin smiled placidly at them.

“And I’m not in the mood to deal with him,” Niall added, without taking his attention from Devlin. “Very few faeries are strong enough to test me these days. She is. Unfortunately, he is too.”