“Like really has found like.” Kesk’s grin twisted into a sneer. His knuckles were white. Whiter.
“And still, poor Nimai persists in his affections,” Veroni added, with a dismayed shake of her head. “You aren’t bonded, human. Not unless we judge it so.”
“Then set us our trial,” Everil said, the growl still in his voice. “We’re prepared to face it.”
“In such a hurry? But it’s been so long, and we’re only just catching up.” Kesk reached up, adjusting his crown of antlers. “Do you know,” his gaze was fixed on Bo again, “my mother managed to whelp afaewith one of her little pets. And kept the creature. Can you imagine?Disgusting. I killed the mortal, of course. What else can one do? Humans are a disease, corrupting decent fae.”
“And indecent ones,” Veroni’s smirk in Everil’s direction left no doubt whom she meant.
Everil kept his expression neutral, even as he feared he’d stop breathing. This, Kesk’s fresh loathing for humanity, was new. Technically, he was required to judge them fairly. Even for the Monarchs’ heirs, the oaths of a judge were binding.
But fairness was a dangerously mutable concept. And technicalities, in Faerie, cost lives.
Everil knew he should let it lie. Play the game. Kesk and Veroni wanted to see him yield. Bow his head and play the docile pony.
Bo’s hand was hot against his side.
“Would you settle this?” Everil asked. “You have transgressed, repeatedly, against Protocol.”
Could he take the pair? Well rested and ready, perhaps. Their power had always been more social than magical. Of course, Everilwasn’twell rested. But they didn’t know that.
Veroni looked at him as if she wished herself a phoenix, able to conjure fire with her rage. Kesk showed his teeth in what definitely wasn’t a smile. For a breath, Everil feared his bluff called.
But they had always hated a fair fight.
“Do learn to take a joke,” the sidhe said, sitting back in his throne. He gestured vaguely backward to a pair of ivory doors that manifested at that moment. “Everil to the left. Bo to the right. Exit before the door opens for you, and the trial is forfeit.”
“One can only hope it be so easy,” Veroni murmured, just loud enough to be heard.
Bo’s hand fell from Everil’s waist as he turned to face him. There was that endearing, crooked grin. Even now. Even in this.
“See you on the other side, kelpie.”
“Always,” Everil promised.
What else was there to say?
The room Everil enteredwas cold and beautiful in the way of Kesk’s territory. White marble and a thick, white-furred rug. Two chairs, straight-backed and austere, facing each other. One of them was occupied.
Nimai.
No figment, not this time. Everil could feel the tug of like to like, of the shredded remnants of his soul still held and kept.
“Sit down, my love.” Nimai’s voice was always so warm. So cultured. He was smiling at Everil, in the way he could smile when he wanted to. All affection and forgiveness. “How I’ve missed you. Funny that it should take a human to bring you back to me.”
Everil didn’t move.
“It’s a chair, Everil. It won’t hurt you. Come now, I’ve refreshments. There’s no call for rudeness. Sit.”
He felt so foolish, standing there, stiff and unsure. With Nimai’s eyes on him, he could think of nothing but what a mess he’d made of everything. How muchtroublehe’d put him through.
And still, Nimai kept showing up. Kept trying.
He hadkilledLawrence. But hadn’t that been Everil’s fault, too?
Everil sat. There was no other choice.
“You’re to be my trial?” he asked. Careful. Calm. It was important, with Nimai, to remain calm. He didn’t appreciate outbursts.
