The Dark King didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to: Irial could taste the relief, the confusion, and the growing sliver of contentment.

“Go see her. Be her friend if nothing else. You are safe for her to touch now. I made sure of it.” Irial paused. “And Niall? Let her believe it was me who solved her problem.”

Niall’s expression was unwavering; he admitted nothing in look or word.

Irial crouched down in front of him and caught his gaze. “She won’t think less of me for it. It’s you she still sees as tamer than we are. Let her keep that.”

“Why?”

“Because you both need the illusion”—Irial put a hand on Niall’s knee as he stood, testing the ever-changing boundaries—“and because you need each other.”

Niall looked away. “And you.”

Irial lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Love works like that.”

For a moment, they simply stared at one another. Then Niall stood, intentionally invading Irial’s space. “It does.”

Irial froze. An admission? He stayed as motionless as he could, waiting. “Niall?”

Niall shook his head. “I can’t forget. I wish I could….”

“Me too,” Irial whispered. “I’d give you anything I have to undo the past. I couldn’t protect you. Not from yourself, not from my—”

“Our,” Niall interjected.

“Our court.” Irial leaned his forehead against Niall’s. “I would, though. Not for a touch. Not for a forgetting. I just want to take away the scars.”

Niall froze, then.

Irial smiled. He reached up to touch the scar on Niall’s face. “Not that you are any less for them, but because they mean you were hurt.”

“Regrets are foolish.” Niall smiled, tentatively. “We had other…things I remember too.”

“We did.” Irial hadn’t ever felt as careful, as hopeful, as he’d been these past few months.

“You taste so afraid right now,” Niall whispered. “You gave me all the power. The court, your fealty…”

“You could sentence me to death on a whim.”

“Why?” Niall sounded, in that moment, as young as he’d been when they first met.

“If that’s what would make you finally forgive me—”

“Not that…You stood by. You let me offer myself to the court. You didn’t hurt me.” Niall shuddered.

“I didn’t stop it either.”

“I forgive you.” Niall’s words were shaky. “I know you don’t understand why I made that bargain. I didn’t understand why you didn’t step in—”

“They’d have killed you,” Irial interrupted. “If I tried to unmake your offer, they’d have killed you, the mortals you were trying to save…. The court wasn’t as orderly then as they are now. They’re not an easy people to rule. If I could’ve talked to you without them knowing, if I could’ve stopped you, if I had told you what you were, if I wasn’t me…There are a lot of ifs, love, but the fact is that it was twelve centuries ago. I’ve been doing penance as best I could.”

“And then a few grand gestures since I wasn’t noticing?” Niall laughed. “Give me a court. Give me a way to be with Leslie….”

Irial shrugged. “Some people like grand gestures.”

“I noticed the smaller ones too,” Niall admitted.

Without letting himself think on it too much, Irial leaned in and brushed his lips over Niall’s. It was no more than a feather touch, but he felt both of their hearts race. He stepped away. “Go see her.”

Niall reached out as if he’d touch Irial, but he didn’t close the distance. “Move back into the house?”

Irial stilled. “Into…?”

“Your old room. Not mine.” Niall did reach out then. He put his hand on Irial’s arm. “I can’t offer more, but…”

The hope and fear inside the Dark King were dizzying. It was enough that Irial wasn’t sure which answer Niall really wanted. Neither is he.

“Come home?” Niall added.

Irial pressed another kiss, no longer than the last, to Niall’s lips. Then, he pushed him gently away. “Go to her. She needs to be reminded that she is loved.”

Niall didn’t move, so Irial started walking back toward Leslie’s building. He made it several yards before Niall joined him. They walked in silence until they were almost at the door.

“You could take the court back,” Niall said. “I’d give it to you.”

“Then neither of you would be able to have what you need.” Irial frowned. “And it’s not best for the court.”

“If you weren’t addictive—”

“I’d still be unhealthy for her.” Irial shoved him gently toward the building.

Niall didn’t press the button. He lifted his hand, stopped, and lowered it. “Will you be at the house?”

“Yes.” Then Irial walked away.

Leslie paced in her apartment. Some tendril of the vine that connected her to Irial still lived. It wasn’t the thing that stole her emotions; it was almost an extra sense that allowed her to taste others’ emotions—and to get glimpses of Irial’s feelings sometimes.

She knew that he was with Niall: his feelings for Niall were always amplified.