“True. Typically it wouldn’t be.” Seth directed them through the alley and toward his train-house. Since only the strongest fey could abide exposure to iron and steel, the rail yard was free of faeries, and the earth around the train cars was flourishing. Exotic vines twined around metal sculptures. It was Edenic, albeit in a strangely mechanized setting. At this time of year and in this part of the Earth, there were few ways to have such fecundity, but Seth’s girlfriend was the embodiment of Summer.

Devlin nodded toward the greenery. “Your beloved seems to be trying to woo you.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Seth opened the door.

Uncharacteristically, Devlin sank into the odd orange chair in the front portion of the room.

Seth went into his kitchen area, and momentarily, he brought over a mug of steamed liquid. He sat it on the wooden table beside Devlin’s seat and said, “Drink it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine in a moment.” He’d had both of his mother-sisters’ blood of late; he should be at his best. “High Court faeries do not need coddling.”

“You’re too arrogant for your own good. Drink it.” Seth moved a garish green chair back and sat. “Ani sucked down enough energy from you that you’ll have a nasty headache and cold flashes if you don’t get this in you. With your impending trip, you need to be stronger.”

“She… drank my energy? She’s a halfling, Seth.”

“Don’t try it on me, Devlin. You aren’t stupid. You’re weakened by her, and you know it.” Seth gestured at Devlin’s hand. “You had her blood on your fingertip. Did you taste it?”

“Why would I taste blood?”

“Because of who you are.” Seth leaned back and gave Devlin an unreadable look. “Do any faeries answer truthfully without trying to dodge questions?”

“You are faery.” Devlin drank the silvery liquid in the mug and switched topics. “This isn’t usually found in the mortal realm.”

Seth shrugged. “Sorcha worries. She’d ‘prefer I am healthy,’ so I keep it on hand. It’s easier than arguing with her.”

The laughter that escaped Devlin was unexpected. “I could grow less irritated by you over time.”

“You will. We’re just not at that point in time yet.” Seth stretched, revealing a bruised and cut forearm as he did so.

“I see.” Devlin tried to process what Seth was saying, but the words lacked cohesion. “You are injured.”

Seth lowered his arm. “I try to hide things from you too, Devlin. You’re hers, and as much as I… want to trust you, I’m sure you come here only because she sends you. If you know anything, I suspect she will as well, and I’m not really into her knowing everything.”

“Indeed.” Devlin gave Seth an assessing look. He was a child, a creature with not quite two decades of living, but he had truth in his words. “The question is how you know things.”

“I’m not the one who is meant to answer that.” Seth grinned then. “Huh. I suppose I’ve become faery enough to dodge questions.”

“Our queen worries, and”—Devlin weighed his words carefully as he emptied the cup of elixir—“I may need to be away from your side to deal with business matters for some time.”

“I know.” Seth stood and took the cup. “While you try to convince yourself you don’t need to go deal with that ‘business,’ witnesses will see you with me. They’ll carry word home to Sorcha. It’ll calm her, and when you’re gone, I’ll be fine. The Dark Court will protect me, and I’m far stronger than our queen will admit to you. In time, you’ll know that… and I think you’ll forgive me… or perhaps not. I can’t see which.”

Devlin watched Seth with a hazy awareness that the things the newly made faery was saying were true, but that there was no logical way that he could know so much. Unless he is a seer. Did Sorcha use the Eolas’ energy when she remade Seth as a faery? Creating a seer loyal only to her would be a logical move on Sorcha’s part.

I can ask him truths.

“You see the future.”

“Some of it,” Seth admitted. “I know where you go next.”

Sleepily, Devlin asked, “And will I be safe?”

For a moment, Seth stared at him. Then, still silent, he turned and walked out of the room. Devlin thought to follow, but movement required more energy than he had. He closed his eyes.

When Seth returned, his footsteps the only sound, Devlin forced himself to open his eyes again. He watched as Seth piled a blanket and pillows at the foot of the too-short sofa. Then Seth turned off the lights and threw the bolt on the door. Every noise echoed loudly, and Devlin realized that he was no use as a protector that night.

“What else’s in the draught?” His words were slurring. “Not jus’ elixir, Seth.”

“Something to help you rest and recover. I don’t need guarding, Devlin. Once you realize why, you’ll want to talk to Sorcha…. She didn’t tell me your secrets, and I won’t tell you hers.”

Devlin closed his eyes again. Killing for his queen was far easier than dealing with seers. She never told me what she’d used to remake Seth. More secrets. It had to be the Eolas. Words swirled in Devlin’s mind as he started to drift to sleep.

But Seth was still there. His words broke the silence. “You won’t be safe, but I think you made the right choice.”

“Haven’t chosen… anything.” Devlin tried to open his eyes, but they weighed too much. Seers with sleeping draughts. All sorts of unacceptable. “Thinking still. Logical paths… and such.”

Seth’s laughter wasn’t aloud, but it was threaded in his voice as he said, “Of course…. Sleep now, brother.”

Not long before dawn, Ani stood on the stoop of an aging house. She pressed her palms against the dark wood of the front door, taking comfort in the simple pleasure of being welcome in Irial’s home. It was still his, even though he now shared it with the new Dark King.

She extended her left hand to the yawning mouth of a brass gargoyle knocker. Lovely sharp pain drew a sigh from her as the gargoyle closed its mouth over her fingers. The bite was over before she saw it happen, but she was found to be acceptable. Only those Irial had permitted access were allowed to disturb him. She was on the list— even at this hour.

“Are you injured? Is someone else?” Irial looked like he was dressed for someone other than her: he was clad in deep-blue silk pajama pants and nothing else.

“No. I’m bored. Restless. You know, the usual.” She sounded sulkier than she’d intended, and he smiled.

“Poor pup.” He stepped back to allow her into his home.

Just inside the door, she slipped off her shoes. The foyer was slick under her feet and colder than seemed possible; walking over it was just this side of painful. She shivered at the sensation.

The door closed of its own volition, and Ani paused to let Irial precede her into the house. He was particular about where he met visitors, so it was better to follow than try to lead. Of course, following had the added benefit of allowing her to watch him.

“Are you… I mean, is he…” She wasn’t sure of the right words when it came to Irial and Niall; no one in the court was. She settled on, “Is the king here?”

Irial glanced over his shoulder at her. “Niall is… out.”

Ani could taste the sadness in her former king. He kept himself in control. The shadows shifted around him, stretching and creeping over walls, but his spectral abyss-guardians didn’t appear.

“He’s a fool.” She didn’t look away, despite the play of shadows around him.

“No,” Irial murmured. “He’s more forgiving than I will ever deserve.”

The room they entered was the same one where he’d sat and held her when she tried not to cry after the pain of the thistle-fey’s embrace. Irial had comforted her then. After the tests, he always stayed with her until she didn’t want to scream or weep anymore.