Keenan didn't answer, didn't apologize for salting old wounds. He went to stare out the window as the sandstorm in the room stilled. The Summer King was calm again.

Niall, however, fought to control his own emotions. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, not now when he was worried about Leslie and furious with Irial. Once, Niall had placed his trust in another king, and that had been a mistake. Back then, Irial had revealed that he'd known all along that the mortals Niall had lain with were sickened and addicted. He'd told Niall that those mortals died—but not until after the dark faeries had brought the mortals to their bruig for entertainment. He'd explained that Niall's addictive nature was simply part of being a Gancanagh. Niall had run then, but Gabriel had come for him. He brought Niall back into the Dark Court's bruig, the faery mound where Irial was waiting.

"You could rule my court someday, Gancanagh," Irial had murmured as he brought forth the mortals who'd been addicted—and were mad with wanting.

"Linger with us," he whispered. "This is where you belong. With me. Nothing has changed."

Around them, the addicted mortals grappled at the willing fey like they were starving for touch, too sick with withdrawal to think of the consequences of contact with thorn-covered bodies and incompatible shapes. And Niall had been disgusted that he'd all but handed mortals over to the Dark Court, and when Irial offered him a trade— "You entertain the court or they can, Gancanagh. Fear and pain is the coin for their ransom. It matters little to me who pays it" — Niall had thought to do the right thing, giving his vow freely in exchange for the release of the addicts. In the end, it hadn't mattered: the addicts still withered away, pleading for the drug that was in Niall's skin.

Keenan was speaking again. "What you are has never been used as an asset to our court." He had a faraway look, both pensive and calculating. "If I'm to keep our court safe, I need to use all our assets."

Keenan uncorked a bottle that had been sitting on a warming tray, poured the honeyed drink into two glasses, and held one out.

Niall couldn't respond, couldn't speak. He just stared at his king.

"Even with Irial swaying her, Leslie will want you, and he still wants you. We can use this to learn the other secrets Irial's court hides from us." Keenan offered Niall the glass again. "Come now. He'll not strike out at you. Mayhap he'll share the girl, and—"

"You knew. That Leslie was marked by him, that—"

"No. I knew there were mortals being marked and taken in by Dark Court faeries. I hoped we'd have learned more by now, sorting out why or how they were bonding with mortals. Now we just need to reassess. This isn't over. She wants you. I saw her watching you before this all began. I can't think Irial's claiming her will erase that. This could be better than I'd hoped. If she survives, she'll be in a position to learn much. She'll tell you. She'll do what you want just to be near you." Keenan offered the glass a third time. "Drink with me, Niall. Don't let this put us asunder."

Niall took the glass and, watching Keenan as he did it, dropped it on the floor. "I've lived for you, Keenan. My life, my every decision for nine gods-damned centuries. How could you violate her like—"

"I'm not the one who violated the girl. It's not my blood under her skin. Irial—"

"Irial wasn't the one playing me this time, was he?" Niall bowed his head as rage vied with despair. "How could you use me, Keenan? How could you keep secrets from me? You manipulated me. …" He took a step closer to Keenan, approaching his king with anger, with the temptation to raise a hand to the faery he'd sworn to protect, to honor with his last breath. "You still want to use me. You knew, and—"

"I'd heard about their ink exchanges, suspected that Leslie was one of them, but finding out the secrets of the Dark Court is far from easy. She's just one mortal. I can't save them all, and if one or two fall so we can keep them all safe … This is no different than it's ever been." Keenan didn't back up, didn't summon guards to his side. "We can use this to have what we both want."

"You encouraged my interest in Leslie, set me up to disobey Aislinn, my queen, your queen."

"I did."

As Niall stood there, trembling in his anger, all of Keenan's statements of late came crashing in on him; the truth of what Niall hadn't seen, by trust or foolishness, was heart crushing. "And you don't feel any remorse, do you? What she's suffering—"

"Irial is a threat to our court." Keenan shrugged. "The Dark Court is too awful to be allowed to thrive. You know as well as I what they've done. You bear the scars. I won't have him strong enough to threaten our court, especially our queen. He needs to be kept in check."

"So why not tell me?" Niall watched his king, hoping for some answer that would ease the weight that threatened to break Niall's spirit as surely as the Dark Court once had.

But Keenan didn't offer such an answer. Instead he said, "And have you do what? Tell the girl? I saw you swaying to her as it was. Mine was a better plan. I needed you to have a focus, and she's as good a focus as any."

Niall heard the logic in the words, had heard his king speak thusly over the centuries when he seduced the mortals who were now Summer Girls. It didn't change anything: Niall's loyalty and partnership were rewarded by disregard and cavalier dismissal.