Then Gabriel swung at the Ly Erg who stood patting his still-bleeding wounds and said, "Enough. Get her out of here. Maybe you could try being obedient tomorrow?"

"Maybe you should try staying out of my way tomorrow." Bananach stood and flicked her long hairlike feathers over her shoulder with a look of disdain. She might be bruised and unsteady on her feet, but she wasn't cowed by anyone. Then, with a solemnity that was as eerie as her violence, she shifted her attention to Niall. "Think about what you want, Gancanagh—what's right. Forgiving the Dark King? Forgiving the Summer King? Or letting me bring you justice, pain, and war, and everything you desire. We'd both be happy."

Once she was out of sight, Gabriel asked, "You might have walked away from Irial, Gancanagh, but do you really want this lot influencing our court? Do you want to help her?"

"I'm not getting involved. It's not my court." Niall sat beside the Hound. He wasn't sure, but it felt like one of his ribs had been cracked.

Gabriel snorted. "It's yours as much as mine. You're just too much of an ass to admit it."

"I'm not like you. I'm not out looking for fights or—"

"You don't back down from them, though. 'Sides, Irial's not all about fighting either. That's why he keeps me around." The Hound grinned and gestured at the shattered windows and cracked bricks. "There's more to the Dark Court than violence. You bring out another sort of darkness. We both belong in the shadows."

Niall ignored the implications of Gabriel's words. "I left the Summer Court. That's why Bananach was here— because I am solitary, fair game, prey."

Gabriel clasped Niall's shoulder approvingly. "I knew you'd get it figured out eventually: you don't belong with them. You get a few more things figured out, you'll be all right."

Then he lifted a broken brick and tossed it at a still-lit streetlight. As the glass shattered and clattered to the ground, Gabriel stood and started to walk away.

"Gabe?"

Gabriel's steps didn't slow or waver, but Niall knew the Hound was listening.

"I'm not letting him keep Leslie. She deserves a life. Irial can't take hers like this."

"You're still a slow learner, boy." Gabriel turned back. "She's part of the court now. Just like you. Been part of it since that first touch of ink went in her mortal flesh. Why do you think we're all called to be nearer her? I watched you try to resist it. Like draws to like. You're both Irial's, and with her being a mortal …"

Niall froze.

Gabriel gave him a pitying smile. "Don't beat yourself up over things that are out of your control … or worry so much after the girl. You of all faeries ought to know Iri's not going to give up on the ones he claims as his own. He's just as stubborn as you."

Then the Hound was in his Mustang and vanishing into the darkened street, and for the third time in less than two days Niall was left with answers that did more to confuse him than ease his worries.

Chapter 30

Leslie rolled over, out of Irial's reach. Despite the vastness of the bed, she still felt too close to him. She'd meant to move several times already, to get up and leave. She didn't. She couldn't.

"It'll get easier," he said gently. "It's just new. You'll be fine. I'll—"

"I can't step away. I can't. I keep telling myself I'm going to go. But I don't." She wasn't angry even now, when her body ached. She should be, though. She knew that. "I feel like I'll throw up, like if I move too far from you …"

He rolled her back over so she was being held in his arms again. "It. Will. Fade."

She whispered, "I don't believe you."

"We were starved. It's—"

"Starved? We?" she asked.

He told her what he was, what Niall was, what Aislinn and Keenan were. He told her they weren't human, not any of them.

Seth was telling the truth. She'd known somehow, somewhere, but hearing it said again, hearing it confirmed was horrible. I am angry. I am afraid. I am … She wasn't, though, not any of those things.

Irial kept talking. He told her that there were courts and that his—the Dark Court—lived on emotions. He told her that through her he would nourish them, that she was their salvation, that she was his salvation. He told her things that should terrify her, and every time she felt close to afraid or angry he drank it away.

"So you're what in this faery court?"

"In charge. Just as Aislinn and Keenan are for the Summer Court." There was no arrogance in his statement. In fact, he sounded weary.

"Am I" — she felt foolish, but she wanted to know, had to ask—"human still?"

He nodded.

"So, what does this mean? What am I then?"

"Mine." He kissed her to emphasize his point and then repeated, "Mine. You are mine."

"Which means what?"

He looked perplexed by that one. "That whatever you want is yours?"

"What if I want to leave? To see Niall?"

"I doubt that he'll be coming to see us, but you can go to him if you want." Irial rolled on top of her again as he said it. "As soon as you're able, you can walk out the door anytime you please. We'll look after you, keep you protected, but you can always leave when you want to and are able to."