Old Habits Read Free

“I did not summon you.”
    Irial stretched on one of the plush chairs she’d had brought in from a local shop. “Relax, love.”
    She leveled an unyielding look at the former Dark King. “Faeries of your court aren’t welcome in my presence—”
    “It’s not my court. Not now. I’ve walked away.” He stood as he said it, tense as if he had to restrain himself from approaching her. “Do you ever wish you could walk away, Sorch?”
    Sorcha cringed at his bastardization of her name, at the familiarity in his tone. “I am the High Court. There is no walking away.”
    “Nothing lasts forever. Even you can change.”
    “I do not change, Irial.”
    “I have.” He was barely a pace away from her then, not touching, but close enough that she felt his breath on her skin. It was all she could do not to shudder. He might not be the Dark King anymore, but he was still the embodiment of temptation.
    And well aware of it.
    He took the advantage. “Have you missed me? Do you think about the last time we—”
    “No,” she interrupted. “I believe I might’ve forgotten.”
    “Ah-ah-ah, fey don’t lie, darling.”
    She backed away, out of reach. “Leave it alone. The details of the last mistake aren’t even important enough to be clear anymore.”
    “I remember. A half moon, autumn, the air was too cold to be so”—he followed, letting his gaze linger on her, as if her heavy skirts weren’t in his way—“exposed, but you were. I’m surprised there wasn’t oak imprinted on your skin.”
    “It wasn’t an oak.” She shoved him away. “It was a . . .”
    “. . . willow,” he murmured at the same time. He looked satisfied, sated, as he walked away.
    “What difference does it make? Even queens make mistakes sometimes.” Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she hid her smile. She had always enjoyed watching him draw her emotions to the surface, enough so that she’d pretended not to know that the Dark Court fed on those emotions. “None of this explains why you are here, Irial.”
    He lit another of his cigarettes and stood at the open window, inhaling the noxious stuff. If she did that, it would pollute her body. Irial, the whole Dark Court, was different this way as well. They took in toxins to no ill effect. For a moment she was envious. He made her feel so many untoward feelings—envy, lust, rage. It was not appropriate for the queen of the Court of Reason to be filled with such things. It was one of the reasons why she’d forbade members of the Dark Court from returning to Faerie. Only the Dark King had consent to approach her.
    But he’s not the king anymore.
    She felt a twinge of regret. She couldn’t justify giving in to his presence now, not logically.
    And logic is the only thing that should matter. Logic. Order.
    Irial kept his back to her while her emotions tumbled out of control. “I want to know why Bananach comes here.”
    “To bring me news.” Sorcha began reasserting her self-control.
    Enough indulging.
    The former Dark King was kind enough to not look at her as she struggled with her emotions. He stared out the window as he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what news?”
    “No. I won’t.” She took her seat again, calm and in control of her feelings.
    “Did it have to do with Niall?” Irial looked at her then. This odd honesty they shared over the centuries was something she’d miss now that he was no longer the Dark King. No one save her brother and Irial saw this side of her.
    “Not directly.”
    “He’s a good king.” Irial wasn’t quite pleading, but he would for Niall. The devotion he had for the Gancanagh was one of his greatest weaknesses. She felt another twinge of envy that didn’t show on her face, but that Irial, of course, knew all the same.
    “I have no mercy for the Dark King—regardless of which of you it is. That won’t change.”
    “I don’t often ask favors of you, Sorch . . . your high-ness”—he bowed his head—“but please