Faery Tales & Nightmares by Melissa Marr Page A

Beira murdered Miach, Irial had come to her—with all his unsettling presence—and together they had mourned the last Summer King. That was the first time she’d opted to indulge in the glorious mistakes they’d shared the past few centuries.
    Today is the last time .
    Sorcha finished dressing as she asked, “And Gabriel? Where does the Hunt stand?”
    “With Niall.”
    “Good. There are factions enough already. With the trouble between Summer and Winter and between Dark and Summer…” Sorcha let the words fade away, not wanting to speak them into being.
    “Niall strengthens the Dark Court. Had I stayed king… Keenan would’ve attacked in time. He’s not going to forgive my binding him. Nine centuries is a long time for rage to fester.” Irial’s regret was obvious even if he didn’t mention it.
    They, and few others, knew the reluctance of his bargain with Beira. Binding Miach’s son wasn’t something the Dark King had wanted to do, but like any good ruler, he made hard choices. That choice had given his court strength. Sorcha, at the time, was grateful that Beira hadn’t set her sights on Faerie. Eventually, she would’ve, but then … then, it was Summer’s fall, Dark’s entrapment, and her staying silent.
    “So we wait.” Sorcha reclaimed the calm reserve that was her daily mien. She gestured toward the door. “In the interim, I will send Devlin to greet the new king on my behalf.”
    Irial did not respond to her warning. Instead, he unlocked the door and left.

CHAPTER 3
    A FTER CENTURIES OF MAKING THE transition, Irial still found the journey from Faerie to the mortal world jarring. The differently colored landscape, the disconnection of time, and the hordes of mortals all thrilled and displeased him simultaneously. Faerie was unchanged for all of eternity, but the mortal world seemed to alter in a moment. He marveled at the ways it had evolved in the centuries that stretched behind him, and he wondered what would follow their already remarkable progress. Some faeries found mortals to be little more than vermin, but Irial was enthralled by them. More so since I am no longer a king . Of course, he was more fascinated by the faery he now approached.
    The new Dark King stiffened as Irial came to stand beside him. It was a conscious effort, however: as Dark King, Niall knew where Irial was for several moments prior to this.
    The king glanced at him. “Why are you here?”
    Irial lowered his gaze respectfully. “I am seeking an audience with the Dark King.”
    “How did you know I was here?” Niall asked.
    “I know you, Niall. I know your habits. This space”—Irial gestured at the small courtyard outside the mortals’ library—“soothes you.”
    Irial smiled as he thought of the year it had been built. He’d been bored, and while he couldn’t create, he could fill the architect’s mind with visions.
    “ Columns?” the man repeated .
    “ Strange, isn’t it?” Irial murmured. “Utterly impractical. Who cares what a place looks like? ”
    “ Right .”
    Irial continued, “And there were statues, towering nearly naked women; can you imagine? ”
    Niall stood staring at the columns that stood on either side of the ornate wooden door to the library. “It always looks familiar.”
    “Indeed.”
    “The building … it’s like somewhere I’ve seen before.” Niall prodded, but he kept his attention on the building as he spoke. “Why is that?”
    “It’s hard to say,” Irial demurred.
    Niall glanced his way. “I can taste your emotions, Irial. It’s not a coincidence that I find it familiar, is it?”
    “You know, my King, it’s much easier to get answers when you order people to obey you.” Irial smiled at a young mother with a pair of energetic toddlers. There was something enchanting about the unrestrained enthusiasm of children of any species. He had a fleeting regret that he hadn’t any young to indulge, but such regrets were followed by memories of half-mortal Dark