Faery Tales & Nightmares

The buzzer for the downstairs door rang. She pushed the speaker on, knowing full well who was there.

“Leslie?”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak, but then she asked, “Are you alone?”

“Right now, I am…. Can I come up?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Can you come down?”

“I shouldn’t either.” She’d already had her shoes on, though, and she grabbed her keys from the hook by the door.

She saw him watching her through the front door of the building as she came down the stairs. It wasn’t like seeing Irial, not now, not ever. With Irial, she was sure; they knew each other intimately. With Niall, she was still nervous; they’d never moved beyond kisses and what-ifs.

She opened the door—and paused. The awkwardness, the urge to touch and not-touch, the where-does- one-go-now wasn’t something they’d figured out. They both froze, and the moment of greeting passed. Then, it was too late to touch without being more awkward.

He stepped to the side, but reflexively offered her his elbow. It was basic civility for him, but he caught himself as soon as he did it. She could see his doubts, his fear that he’d crossed a line already.

Leslie slid her hand into the crook of his arm. “Should I pretend to be surprised?”

He smiled, and all of the tension fled. “Harbingers of my visit or just the fact that I was in town?”

“Did Gabe send for you?” She didn’t look around them. “Someone … else?”

“Why didn’t you tell me he visits?” Niall’s tone was more curious than hurt as he asked.

“Because I want you two to get along,” she admitted. “I want… I don’t know… I just like the idea that you are at peace with one another. That you can be there for each other.”

Niall gave her a curious look.

“What?”

He shook his head. “I’d move the court here if it made you come back to … either of us.”

“I know.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “And if he thought it would work, he’d be trying to manipulate you to do so. Sometimes I think he wants me in your life more than in his.”

Niall paused. “You’d be in both of our lives if—”

“I can’t.” Leslie’s voice wavered embarrassingly.

“So…”

She leaned in and kissed him. “So we take tonight for what it is, and then you return to our court, to him. You need him in your life. I can’t live my life in the Dark Court. That’s not where I belong.”

“Maybe there will be someone else who can be king.” He stroked her hair.

“How long was Iri the Dark King?” Leslie kissed his throat. “You know better.”

“I want to tell you to be with him,” Niall whispered. “He could keep you safe and you’d be away from the court … and maybe someday…”

“You need him with you, and I don’t want to be addicted to anyone.” Leslie wrapped her arms around him, leaned closer into his embrace. “Sometimes things simply aren’t meant to be. I’m not able to live in the Dark Court. I’d lose myself if I lived there. You might not see that, but I know myself.”

He pulled back and stared into her eyes. “What if—”

“If I thought I could live there, I would,” she interrupted. “Being there with both of you … it’s tempting. More so than I want to admit. I want to ignore the things that happen in the court, not be changed by what I remember. People die. Mortals were killed for sport. Violence is play. Excess is normalcy. I can’t live in that without changing in ways I don’t want to.”

Leslie felt relief at having this conversation finally. She’d expected that she’d be embarrassed by the admission that it wasn’t simple horror that stopped her. That she knew Niall would accept, expect, even, but her real reason was less honorable. She could accept the cruelty and excess of the Dark Court, and that terrified her.

Niall frowned. “I wish I could lie to you. I want to tell you that none of the horrible things happen anymore.”

“They do. If you aren’t doing the worst of them, he is. Don’t think that he’s changed. He’d do anything to protect you … including protecting you from yourself.” Leslie kept her voice gentle. She knew that there was one time when Irial hadn’t been able to protect Niall, but it wasn’t something any of them discussed. “He will do whatever it takes to keep you happy, so if you aren’t able to do…” Her words faded as Niall looked away.

“I know that there are parts of being the Dark King that he still handles.” Niall’s expression clouded. “I hate being this … almost as much as I enjoy it. Some of the ugly things, though, deals and cruelties… I can’t.”

“So he does.”

Niall nodded. “There are things I don’t see. If we could make it so you didn’t see…”

She ignored that suggestion. “You know what happened with Ren?”

Niall didn’t answer for a moment. Then he nodded. “I do.”

“I want to be sorry. I want to be the sweet girl you think I am. I want to say I’m sorry that Irial”—she paused, trying to find delicate words for what she knew had to have happened—“got rid of Ren.”

For a moment, Niall stared at her. He didn’t speak.

“I’m not that girl,” Leslie admitted. “Any more than you’re Summer Court. You belong in the Dark Court. With Irial.”

“And you.”

“No.” She sighed the word. “The person I would become in the court isn’t who I want to be. I could be. I could be crueler than you are right now. There are reasons that Irial chose me, that I chose his tattoo, and even if you don’t see them, I do. If I stay away from the court, I can be something else too.”

“I’ll love you either way,” Niall promised. “He would too.”

“I wouldn’t.” She laced her fingers through his, and they stood there quietly for several moments.

He didn’t look away. Cars passed on the street. People walked by. The world kept moving, but they alone were still.

Finally, he asked, “So should I go?”

“Not tonight. Can we pretend tonight? That you’re not the Dark King? That I’m not afraid of the things I learned about myself in your court? For tonight, can we just be two people who don’t know that tomorrow isn’t ours?” She felt tears on her cheeks. She wasn’t well yet, but she was sure that she couldn’t go back to the world of faeries without destroying all the progress she was making. Maybe if the two faeries she loved were of any other court, she could.

They aren’t. They never will be. And we would’ve never been together if they were.

“What are you saying?” Niall asked.

“I can’t return to the court, but I can’t pretend that you aren’t in my life. I see you. All of you.” Leslie didn’t move any closer to him, but she didn’t back away either. “I need my life to be out here— away from the courts—but I look forward to your calls, to his visits. I want to talk to him, and I want to…”

“What?” Niall prompted.

At the end of the block, Irial stood watching. She’d known he was there, known that he’d be closer if he could, and known that he had made this night possible. She was safe from Ren because of Irial. She was in Niall’s arms because of Irial.

She concentrated on the tendril of connection she had to him, trying to let it open enough to feel him—and for him to feel her emotions. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but he blew her a kiss.

“Leslie?” Niall looked as tentative as he had when they’d first met. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come upstairs with me. Tonight.”

Irial smiled.

Niall stepped back, but he took her hand in his. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Give us tonight. Tomorrow”—she looked past him to let her gaze rest on Irial—“tomorrow, you go back to your court, and I continue my life. Tonight, though…”