“Are you asking for advice?” He looked gentle now, revealing the side he never shared in public, the side he showed her when she was ill or weak. This was why Leslie had loved him, why Niall loved him still. Irial would do anything for his loved ones, especially now that he didn’t carry the responsibility of caring for the Dark Court. That kind of love was a once-in-a-lifetime thing; nothing should stand in the way when someone loved that intensely. Ani understood that, even if both her mortal friend, Leslie, and the new king were too daft to see it.

Ani couldn’t understand anyone refusing him: he was perfect. Okay, not perfect, but awfully close. That whole willingness-to-experiment-on-me thing isn’t fun, but mostly perfect. She’d had the worst crush on him growing up. Maybe still do a little bit. He had been the Dark King, the fiend that the nightmares feared. In her court, only Gabriel and Bananach were as terrifying.

“If advice is all you’re passing out, I’ll take it.” Ani pulled her foot out of his hands and extended the other.

He laughed but commenced rubbing.

“I’m suffering here.” She tilted her chin, widened her eyes, and let her foul mood show.

“Pouting doesn’t work on me, pup.” He pressed his thumbs harder into the bottom of her foot.

“It used to.”

“No, it just made you happy to think you could play me.” He ran a fingertip over her foot, taunting her with softness.

She pulled away and hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s ridiculous, Iri.”

“Gabe’s just worried about keeping you safe.” Irial reached out and squeezed her ankle. “The Vilas took the last batch of blood to a lab that specializes in nonmortal biology. If we can identify what you are, we can isolate your peculiar traits and—”

“It’s been months of tests,” Ani interrupted. “Just take some of it and do another ink exchange. I’m mortal enough to be bound to someone, and I am fey enough to feed. Instead of court tears, try my blood as the ink base. See if it works and—”

“No.” Irial squeezed her ankle tight enough that it was painful. “Niall prefers that we don’t do that. There is discord, and he can feed the court. If all else fails, my presence in his court and his anger at the Summer King and his frustration with Bananach upset him enough that he has emotion to spare. It isn’t a forever solution, but it buys us time.”

Ani rolled her eyes. Having an emotional king was proving useful to the faeries that needed to feed on emotions. That and the upheaval between the seasonal courts left the Dark Court nourished enough to survive—but not to thrive. It didn’t help Ani’s other need though. “I need more, Iri.”

“Can you have unsupervised contact without weakening them? Without killing them? Without exposing what you are? Without endangering yourself ?” Irial’s gentleness was vanishing. “Tell me that you have the self-control to do so.”

She couldn’t lie, but she could avoid the question. “I don’t hurt you, and no one is here to stop me.”

He gave her a wry grin. “Sweetheart, I’m a Gancanagh again, and I have enough self-control to keep my emotions locked away from you when I need to. A mortal or a faery— even a strong faery—who lets you have both…”

Ani thought of him, the faery she’d met. It was just a brief flittering thought, but Irial caught her expression.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing really. He was fine… I mean, I think he was.” Ani licked her lips unconsciously and then realized what she’d done. She looked away.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t a weak faery though… and he seemed fine when he walked away.” Ani looked over at her former king. “He did walk away. No one saw, except Seth… and he wouldn’t expose me. I don’t think. Right? He wouldn’t?”

“Tell me.”

So she did. She told him every single detail about the faery she’d kissed at the Crow’s Nest, and then she added, “He vanished afterward.”

Irial said nothing for several moments. “He took your blood.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was half out-of-it. If he’s a problem, if he finds me and is a threat, I could… you know… not stop.” She pushed away the guilt at the thought of willingly killing the faery she’d met. She was Dark Court, and in the Dark Court, survival sometimes meant doing things that were unpalatable.

“If it’s unavoidable, you will do exactly that.” Irial’s words weren’t backed by kingship, but they both knew she’d obey him.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Hey, maybe I can be the permanent court punishment or a Trojan horse sent to the Summer Court to hurt the Summer King. ‘You’ll have to go kiss Ani, bad little faeries.’ Faeries, mortals, half- lings… If I sat in Niall’s place, I could feed the court. They could gorge. Would Niall hand the throne over if he knew? Or would he kill me so my monstrousness is—”

“Ani… stop. We’ll sort it out. I know you don’t want to kill anyone like that.” Irial paused, weighing the words even as his emotions drifted into sadness. “For some faeries, the tangling of affection and death is too personal. It’s not a flaw. Niall isn’t… he prefers…” The words started and stopped as the no-lying injunction interfered. Irial sighed. “Niall hasn’t always been comfortable with the consequences of being a Gancanagh. Our touch addicts mortals; yours drains them. The cost for them is ultimately the same.”