Summer Bound (Wicked Lovely #5.2) - Melissa Marr Page 0,2

queen of the Summer Court made their home. He stood in the doorway as if posing for cameras, dark eyes sparkling and a smile that could only lead to trouble.

The guards parted at Siobhan’s nod.

“Irial,” Siobhan greeted. She knew him well enough to know that the king who had become Chaos was not here without reason.

“May I enter?”

The guard at the door looked toward Tavish and Siobhan. It wasn’t as if they could refuse him, not truly, but seeing him seemed to evoke unease in those who had been born fey.

“No,” Tavish said, just as Siobhan said, “Yes.”

Siobhan muttered a curse that had Irial laughing aloud. He strolled into the room.

“Lovely to see you, too.” Irial was no longer the Dark King, and in truth, he had a unique status among their kind. As Chaos, he could not properly be refused welcome in any court. “It has been too long, lovely.”

Siobhan gave him a look no one else could see, and his smile grew cunning. After his death, he’d managed to finagle resurrection as the embodiment of Chaos, and he had the unique position of also being the unofficial consort of the current Dark King.

“Irial. My regards to your better halves.”

He laughed. “Oh, but if they are both my better halves, they’ve fulfilled all the good I could be. Does that leave me nothing but wickedness?”

“If memory serves, that always was a particular gift of yours.” Siobhan stepped closer and allowed his familiar embrace, knowing well that he was harmless to her. No one who knew him would be surprised that he dipped her for a kiss.

While Irial’s kiss was fairly chaste, it undoubtedly looked otherwise, and the wink he gave her made clear that he intended as much.

Siobhan bit back a smile as Tavish jerked her away from Irial.

“Why are you here?” Tavish asked. “I have no record of a meeting.”

Irial grinned. “Niall kicked me out of the house for being ‘absurdly cheerful,’ so I thought I’d visit the other courts.” He looked around expectantly. “Is the queen around? I’d like to pay my respects.”

“On behalf of . . .” Tavish prompted.

“Chaos, it is what I am,” Irial answered with a cheeriness that was slightly out of character. “Why else would I possibly be here?”

“Are you drunk?” Siobhan asked softly.

Irial laughed gleefully and said, “Not yet, my dear. A glass of Summer Wine wouldn’t go amiss, though. Would you fetch me one?”

“Siobhan is not a cocktail maid. She is an advisor to Her Majesty, Aislinn, Queen of the Summer Court and—"

“I was asking you, Tavish.” Irial looked at Siobhan’s counterpart with an innocent smile that was about as convincing as kelpie claiming to be vegetarian. The innocence fled after a moment, and there instead was a faery to fear. Taunting. Powerful. Far too proud to back down, despite—or perhaps because of—centuries of encounters.

“Summer Wine is for those of our court.” Tavish glared, eyes as black as Irial’s now. The two could be brothers, opposing twins: Tavish spun-silver hair and Irial shadow-dark strands.

“I belong to all courts,” Irial stated.

“Or none.” Tavish held Irial’s gaze and added, “Our queen is busy. One makes an appointment, requests a convenient time—"

“Are you refusing me access to the Summer Queen?”

“No.”

“To the Summer Wine, then?” Irial taunted. “Are you afraid I’ll become drunken and difficult, Tavish? Afraid that I cannot control myself? Surely, you are not worried for my well-being.”

“You are not of our court,” Tavish said, not backing down at all. “Summer Wine is the drink of the court of light. You are a thing of shadows.”

If Siobhan didn’t know him so well, she would’ve missed the rage in his form and voice. Even then, however, she would not miss the accusations in his voice. The history between the courts was tense, and Tavish saw no beauty in the Dark.

But while the Dark Court was never a place of sparkling light and joyous laughter, Siobhan knew well that it wasn’t evil. She had many fond memories of nights in black sheets with the shadows touching her skin. There was joy there, too, as in her own court.

She looked between the two faeries. Whatever grudges they had meant that this could turn ugly.

“Perhaps, we could—”

“Why would the Dark King want sunlight?” Tavish bit off, speaking over her.

“I am no longer the Dark King, old boy. Your liquid sunlight is no longer deadly to me.” Irial held his arms wide. “Let us drink and be friends. I am no longer a creature that must fear sunlight.”

“You