I had no ready response.
“Whatever human morality has been hammered into you, colleen… it does not obtain in Tír na nÓg.” At last, some measure of compassion warmed his cold gaze. But it was not for the couple he had just cursed. It was forme. “Liberate yourself from ideas of heroes and villains, good and evil, right and wrong. Here, we are all villains. Here, there is no judge or jury to decide whether good prevails or perishes; whether evil thrives or dies. There is only balance—in all its infinite permutations.”
“And vengeance? Curses?” I whispered, struck sorrowful by the bleakness of his worldview. “Are they balance?”
“How could they be anything but?” He lifted his hand to my face, brushed a scorching thumb against my chin. “Besides, colleen—how can you know what I gave them is not truly a blessing? There are few things more oppressive than a parent’s love, as uncompromising as a parent’s expectations. Perhaps I have simply set them all free. Perhaps their child will be as wild and wicked as I, and his parents will be grateful they do not need to love him. And perhaps he will be grateful he does not need to be loved.”
“You may be wild and wicked, tánaiste.” I fought to keep my voice level despite his touch thrilling fire through my veins. “But not even you can be grateful for not being loved.”
Irian’s hand glided along my jaw to cup my nape, tilting my face up to his. His touch was hot, intimate. But his eyes on my face were searching—winged with distant regret.
“No. Perhaps I am not.” He cocked his head, but for once the gesture seemed less threat than invitation. “Dance with me, colleen.”
I laughed to hide the confusion sparking against my skin. “You promised you wouldn’t ask.”
“I said no such thing.” That coiled, perilous smile. “Must I beg?”
I tossed my hair. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t dance. Not with anyone.”
“But I am dying. May I not demand that which I desire?”
“You’regoingto die. That’s different. We’re allgoingto die.”
“Yes, but I know when.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lucky you.”
“It is lucky.” The intensity in his words sobered me. Silhouetted against the lanterns bobbing between the boughs, his hair was darker than the night sky; his eyes, brighter than the moon. “I know exactly how much time I have left. And I know exactly how I want to spend it.”
That was hard to argue with. I swallowed, then held up a finger. “One dance.”
He tilted his head. “One dance.”
He pulled me back toward the Heartwood, where revelers moved in graceful whirls and spirals on the grassy sward. The music was smooth, sultry—the unearthly instruments singing eldritch through the night. Irian’s fingers twined with mine.
A couple spun in front of us, locked in a tender embrace. A sharp burst of familiarity stole my gaze and arrested my pulse. The woman had ice-blond hair knotted in flowering braids down her back. A mane of golden curls spilled over the man’s makeshiftmask. And his eyes—trained adoringly on his dance partner—were a dark blue-green. The color of river stones.
My eyes latched on to Rogan and Eala, spinning and dipping a few paces in front of us. A thorn of envy pierced my heart. They were…perfecttogether. They matched in a way that he and I never could—neverwould.
Rogan bent to whisper something in Eala’s ear. She threw back her head, laughing merrily. He took the opportunity to sweep a tender, sensual kiss against the pale column of her elegant throat.
Thathadn’t taken long. The thorn withered, growing brittle as it crumbled to dust. I’d been the one to ask Rogan to try harder to fall in love with Eala—I knew that. But I hadn’t expected it to happeninstantaneously. Or to witness it.
I’d promised myself one night of passion with him. A close to a chapter that should never have opened. An end to a story that was veering toward tragedy. But one night had become many—what I had meant to be a farewell had become less a culmination than a complication. And although I’d said goodbye to him… well.
But if Rogan could move on so easily, then there was no reason for me to mourn him. To mournus. There was no reason I shouldn’t—
“Colleen?” Irian stepped in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking my view. “What troubles you?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“You are a terrible liar.” He followed my gaze to Rogan and Eala. A moment of confusion faded behind a sudden blaze of realization. “Him.”
“No.” I didn’t know what I was dismissing. Because for so long, itwashim. “I—”
“You love him.” Irian’s voice cut through my stuttered denials. “The human prince has your heart.”
“No,” I said again. “Maybe once, but not now. I—” The organ in question lurched as Irian’s words finally registered. “You know about Rogan?”
