Page 90 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

“Bah.”

The new mode of transportation irritated Gabriel for reasons that seemed to be primarily a matter of loving his steed in its natural equine-like form. Irial, unlike a lot of faeries, was fascinated by technological advances. He’d even had several images of himself made in the last few decades, including a daguerreotype and a tintype. In time, Irial intended to own several horseless carriages as well. What was the point in immortality if one continued to live as if it were centuries past?

“Without being seen,” Irial ordered.

Gabriel gave him another raised brow look, but said nothing.

“I don’t want her to feel stalked,” Irial explained.

Ignoring Gabriel’s snort, Irial continued, “I simply need to move to the house in the city for a short time.”

“And the Hunt?”

“It’s not as if you cannot fetch me if needs be,” Irial stated.

“Or we can come with you, Irial.” The rumbling in Gabriel’s voice clarified that even as he pretended to be suggesting the answer, he was actually demanding it.

“Fine. You can come, too.”

As the steed swept by the girl who was walking toward the city, Irial wished he could pull her to him. It was foolish. A wise man would vacate the city, ignore the mortal, stay as far from the quarrel between Beira and Keenan as he could. This one, though, had looked right at him.

“I ought to leave the state,” Irial said aloud.

“Are you going to do so?”

“No.”

“I’m not going to lecture you, Iri.” Gabriel grinned, all teeth and menace, and added, “You’re more use when you’re not pouting.”

“I don’t . . .” Irial made a crude gesture at his closest friend and added, “I am notpouting, Gabe. I am simply enjoying a vibrant city, filled with music and distractions. A favorite city, as you know.”

Gabriel laughed.

Prostitution was newly legal in New Orleans now. The Crescent City was the first city to legalize it in this country, and the Dark Court enjoyed the profits of that law. His fey fed on darker emotions, and the so-called Storyville District added to the court’s already-deep coffers.

“She might simply be a distraction,” Irial claimed, careful to phrase his words in such a way that they were not a statement of absolutes. Lying, after all, was not possible for a faery.

“Or a way to cope with your guilt,” Gabriel added.

“Or boredom,” Irial admitted.

Or something else. He didn’t say that aloud though. Far better to think of guilt or boredom as motivators.

Irial smiled. Thelma—much like Niall before her and Leslie after her—was far from boring. Irial, if he did say so himself, had excellent taste.

“I treasured her,” he said. “And she hid my child.”

Later that afternoon, Leslie and Irial rode to the airport in the company of assorted Hounds. There was something about feeling so cherished that never grew old for her. The massive fey creatures, looking for all the world like a multicultural biker gang, escorted them to the ticket counters.

Cam carried the small bags that she and Irial had packed. In truth, she was surprised that Irial had agreed to pack things. He had the ridiculous habit of believing that a credit card and a whim would suffice when it came to most clothes. His suits, of course, were tailored, but things like jeans or shirts were a matter of little concern.

“No time for stores?” she asked.

“I need all the time to research,” Irial murmured, not even looking up from the latest of the letters he’d retrieved from a locked fireproof box and slipped into his Italian leather satchel.

The pages were yellowed, ink faded, but each letter was in a protective sleeve, as if a careful librarian had stored them. Leslie wanted to read them, to know his every secret, but her life with Irial and Niall worked because she had the ability to be patient—and the ability to be brash. She knew the two men well enough to know which trait she needed, and right now, the living embodiment of Discord needed her support and her patience.

They checked their bags, cleared security, and went to stand at a gate. The Hounds, of course, still stood like fierce guards around them. The difference was that no one saw them now. However, in that way of such fey things, they radiated a kind of terror that meant no one came near Irial.

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