I think something in my knee ripped.”
“Exactly.” Niall released Irial’s hand and grinned.
“Maybe next time I’ll do better.” Irial regretted the words as soon as they were out, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He concealed his emotions and stilled his expression as best he could.
For a moment, Niall said nothing; his emotions were likewise locked down tightly enough that they were out of Irial’s reach. Then Niall shrugged. “Maybe.”
Irial lifted the rope for Niall to duck under.
They walked out together in silence. Niall did not tell Irial to depart as they walked to the house that had once been Irial’s, nor did he invite Irial to stay. At the step, they paused, and for a foolish hopeful moment, Irial waited. Then, Niall reached out to the gargoyle that adorned the door, and Irial left for his current residence. It was a peaceful parting.
Irial knew they both were keeping secrets that could change the trust they were building, but it was progress. For now, that was enough.
What Irial had learned in his conversations with his spies had directed a course of action he’d intended to discuss with Gabriel tonight, but Irial had long since discovered the importance of improvising. A chance to mend his relationship with Niall outweighed the benefits of informing Gabriel of Irial’s plans. He could handle matters quietly, and then apologize to Niall if he was found out.
CHAPTER 7
Ignoring the faeries that waited in every alcove and around every corner, Niall made his way to his chambers. He opened the door and stopped.
“He said you needed me.” She stared at him, not moving, not crossing the thick carpet to stand nearer him. Once, she would’ve. Now, she watched him and said, “The Hound. He brought me here because you needed me.”
“No,” he corrected. “I needed a
She shrugged. “I am a body.”
“No.” He wasn’t exactly
“You could be anyone.” He slammed the door closed. “You—”
“You don’t need to try to make me upset, Niall.” She gave him a sorrowful smile. “Tell me.”
“Tell…”
“What you need,” she supplied. Even in this place, far different from her court, she swayed a little as if she heard music still. The long brown hair that she usually pinned into curls hung straight today. “The last Dark King invited us here often enough. Tonight, though… I hoped it was you I was here for when I saw the Hound. I would’ve come without that hope, but I’m glad to be brought to you.”
Niall hadn’t thought about it overly much. It made sense, though: the Summer Girls were without Keenan’s hatred of the Dark Court. They were creatures of pleasure, the embodiment of only the joys of Summer. Later, he’d ask Gabriel how often the Summer Girls had visited the court—and how often they could visit safely. Even in his fury with Keenan, Niall still believed that the Summer King would not sit idly by if the Summer Girls were harmed. His former liege manipulated as freely as every other powerful faery did—
“He always asked about you. The last king”—she unfastened her sundress—“I thought of telling you sometimes. More than once, he asked me to come to him right after I’d lain in your arms.”
Niall stilled.
“We knew that one day”—she stepped from the dress that now puddled around her feet—“you’d return to this court.”
If she had been any of the other Summer Girls, her words would’ve surprised him, but Siobhan had always told Niall things he hadn’t thought anyone noticed.
As she watched him, she pulled her hair over her bare shoulder. “I remember when you taught me about this world, Niall. You spoke of them, of
The way she watched him was exciting. When he’d been in the Summer Court, he had always favored her, but the Summer Girls never seemed to care whose arms they were in.
Without looking back at her, he said, “You could go. There are others—”
She laughed. “I
“Keenan would not approve,” Niall pointed out rather foolishly. What the Summer King approved of wasn’t Niall’s concern. Even now, the Dark Court was strong enough to withstand any threat the Summer Court offered them.
“Niall?”
He lifted his gaze.
In an instant, Siobhan had crossed the room and stood in front of him. Carefully, she reached out to touch his face. Gone was the impulsivity he’d known with her as one of the Summer Girls. Instead, she approached him much the way one would approach a wild animal. “You’ve been fighting.”
Until that moment, the fact that he was blood-covered had slipped his mind. He flinched and pulled away from her touch. “You should g—” The untrue words halted. He tried again: “You
“No.” Her hand was outstretched, but she did not touch him this time. Her sorrow and her longing and her love flooded him. “I want to be right here.”
He stared at her in wonder.
She stilled. “What?”
Silently, he shook his head. The ability of his court to taste emotions was secret. As carefully as she had, he reached out, and despite the number of times that he’d been with Siobhan, it felt new. He slid his fingers through