The expression on Niall’s face when Bryce made that accusation—Goddess, Gareth hoped never to see that look of horror again. And David—he looked devastated.

“I think I know of one other gate.” David’s voice was soft but steady. “Alun told me about it. It’s an hour or so south, near the Enchanted Forest.”

Niall blinked, startled enough that the horror drained from his face. “There’s an enchanted forest here? A real one?”

“No,” David said. “It’s just an amusement park. That’s just its name.”

“Fine.” Bryce snatched up his jacket. “Get in the car. We’re leaving now.”

Gareth collected his own jacket. “All right, but I have to be back for the second concert tonight.”

“Then you’d better hurry.” Bryce stormed out of the house.

Gareth turned to hand Niall his jacket, but Niall shook his head. “No. I’m not coming.”

Gareth’s belly curled in dismay. “But—” Hadn’t they found each other last night? He’d been so sure they’d finally spilled all their secrets, that even if they couldn’t share the past, they at least had a future. “All right.”

“How about that, boyo? He’s got your measure at last.”

Gareth tried to ignore the Voices. Maybe this had nothing to do with Bryce’s accusations. After all, Niall was Irish, not Welsh, and he’d lived in the Georgian age, far later than the events of Gwydion’s time. He hung up the jacket then turned toward Niall, hoping for a kiss, but Niall had already moved away, dropping down on the sofa next to David, his hands clasped between his knees.

Gareth swallowed his disappointment. “I’ll . . . I’ll see you later. A couple of hours. Three or four at the most.” He hoped. Although even if he managed to get inside Faerie, he had no idea what he could do to fix things.

He left the house and walked next door to where Bryce was already waiting for him behind the wheel of his LEAF.

“So,” Bryce said once Gareth had buckled in. “Are we going to argue all the way to Turner?”

“No. I’d just as soon not speak to you at all.”

“Christ, Gareth.” Bryce took off down the street. “You can’t let it go, can you?”

Gareth swiveled in the narrow seat and glared. “Would you? You’re taking the piss out of me now because Mal’s trapped. Are you going to forgive and forget if you can’t get him back?”

Bryce’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

“Is this a druid thing? What you say comes to pass?”

“No, it’s not a druid thing. Call it an avoidance mechanism if you want, but I’d rather not imagine the worst outcome. Besides, you’re the one who just sealed the only threshold in Portland with nothing more than a random hum.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I? You tell me why we can’t get in then.”

Gareth stared out the window at the passing cars. “I can’t.”

“Nor can I. Look.” Bryce took a huge breath and blew it out. “You’re going to be my brother-in-law. I think we should at least make an attempt to be civil to one another, don’t you?”

Gareth shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Then work with me. Faerie’s not the only thing at risk—it’s anchored here, in the Outer World. If it collapses, it could send ripples through our ecosystem that we can’t begin to estimate.”

A frisson of fear cascaded down Gareth’s spine. His home. The band. The whole world. Could it be that severe? “I thought you didn’t want to imagine worst-case scenarios?”

“There’s a difference between borrowing trouble and problem-solving. Does your hatred of Eamon—which, by the way, I think is entirely misplaced—outweigh the fate of everyone else on the planet? He harmed one person—allegedly.”

“Allegedly?” Gareth punched the dashboard. “I saw him approach Niall. Speak to him. Take his arm. And Niall just followed him through the gate without a backward glance before I could get to him.” I didn’t even get to say goodbye. “Eamon looked at me, though. He knew who I was and he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“But Niall has never said a word against Eamon.”

“He can’t! It’s a tyngyd. You should know all about those. Eamon prevented Mal from talking about him when he talked you two into doing his dirty work at the equinox.”

“I don’t think it’s the same. Mal tried to talk about him and couldn’t. Niall doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, or reveal any information about himself at all. Maybe you’re misreading the situation entirely.”

“If you’d been tortured for a couple of centuries, would you want to talk about it?”

“A fair point. But you’ve got Niall back. From what we saw this morning, it looks like you’ve got him all the way back.”

“We’re working on it.” Gareth’s heart tripped over itself. Why wouldn’t he kiss me goodbye though? “But it’s promising.”

Bryce jammed on his turn signal. “Well I don’t have Mal and David doesn’t have Alun. What’s more, they don’t have us, and they need us. They need our help and they need yours. So what if helping them means helping Eamon too? You are no longer the injured party, Gareth, so get the fuck over it and do the right thing.”

After Gareth followed Bryce out the door, Niall stayed planted on the sofa like a lump for a good ten minutes. An Unseelie gate. In the backyard. Eamon in danger—along with Gareth’s brothers and Peadar and every other fae in both courts.

Although Niall couldn’t find the gate and pass through in his current state, if he was healed, he could do it—and he was sitting next to the only known achubydd in the world, who could probably do the trick without breaking a sweat.

But if I’m healed, Gareth will know the truth. They’ll all know the truth. And then what? Since Bryce had been a party to Eamon’s coup, he might grant Niall a bit of credibility. But would David? Even if they listened to him as an Unseelie, would they trust him as someone who’d lied to them since they’d met, concealed information, maybe caused the whole bloody mess by fleeing Faerie in the first place?

Bryce had accused Gareth of putting the good of one before the good of all, as Gwydion had done, but was Niall any better?

David, who’d been silent too, finally sighed and rose from his corner of the sofa. “Would you like some breakfast? Coffee or tea? I can make something.”

“You don’t have to play the host. I know you’re worried. The last thing you need is to concern yourself with a guest.”

David pushed his shock of brown hair off his forehead and shrugged. “Doing something, anything, is better than sitting around and brooding. Alun always says—” He pressed his lips together and took a shaky breath. “Alun always says that I’m not capable of sitting still.”

“You love him very much, don’t you?”

David nodded, and this time a tear escaped, trickling down his cheek. He dashed it away with the back of one hand. “So so so much. He can be a stubborn, pigheaded bossypants when he gets on his ethical high horse, always wanting to take everyone’s problems on his own shoulders even when they’re perfectly capable of dealing them on their own. But he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. If something happens to him—” David’s face crumpled and he turned away. “I’ll make some coffee.”

He scurried into the kitchen, where he began to bang cabinet doors and run water at full force. It didn’t cover the sound of his sobs, however.

Danu’s tits, Bryce is right. This was bigger than Niall’s own blighted love affair. Gareth was out of my reach for two centuries, and I had him again last night. That was more than Niall had dared hope for. Even if Gareth never forgave him for his deceptions, he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

He got up and walked into the kitchen, where David was scrubbing the sink with a yellow sponge.

David glanced up and then away, as if he were ashamed of his tears. “Did you decide you want something after all?” His voice wobbled.

“Yes. I do.”

“The coffee will be done in a few minutes. Would you like eggs? Toast? Yogurt?”

“I’d like for you to heal me.”

David turned slowly, a hint of fear in his blue-gray eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. You realize I can’t affect humans the way I can supes.”

“I know. But thanks to what you and Bryce”—and Gareth—“have already done, my injuries are just down to time, right? So they won’t they won’t be life-threatening to you. Trivial, almost. Like healing a . . . a . . .” :Paper cut!: “A paper cut.”

David rolled his eyes. “About a bazillion paper cuts. Assuming the paper was as thick as a horse’s leg. But you have a point. It’s just extreme first aid now.” He tossed the sponge in the sink. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“I should warn you though, I’m not certain I’ll be able to do much about the scars. I’ve never tried to heal something imposed by a god. I wasn’t able to do much about Mal’s curse when it was the result of one of those bogus fae rules.”

“I know. I don’t care. I just don’t want to be an invalid anymore.”

“All right.” He marched across the kitchen and pointed to a chair at the table. “Sit down, straddling the chair backward, and take off your shirt, please.”

Niall complied, although when the cool air slid over his skin, he shivered. Propping his arms on the chair, he leaned forward. “Like this?”

David hmmphed as he palpated Niall’s back with gentle fingers. “Yes. I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Thorough is better than quick, but only if it doesn’t endanger you.”

“Got it.” David laid his hands on Niall’s shoulders lightly—a feather touch—but the warmth flowed over his skin like warm honey, making him twitch and tense.

No turning back now. When this was over, he couldn’t hope to hide his nature from Gareth any longer. It’s worth it, though. To save Eamon. The Kendricks. All the lesser fae. Even bloody Tiarnach. None of them deserved to be victims of Niall’s own reckless impulses.

He rested his forehead on his clenched fists. Too bad this didn’t hurt more. He deserved to be punished for what he’d done to them all.

David snatched his hands away. “You said you wanted this.”

“I do.” I must.

“Then stop fighting me. Achubydd healing is as much about the cooperation of the patient as my own ability or power or whatever you want to call it. If you don’t want it, I don’t get the feedback I need to replenish my energy, and then you’ll be the one taking care of me.”

Shite. Niall stood up and faced David. “Are you all right?” Was he a little pale? Was that pain etched in the corners of his eyes? “If this is going to hurt you—”

“It won’t as long as you cooperate. Can you do that? Send yourself, I don’t know, healing thoughts?” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Do you believe you got what you deserved?” David’s voice rose until he’d have given a druid a run for his money. “That being flogged to within an inch of your life was justified?”

Niall turned away, folding his arms over his chest. “It was worth the price. Or at least I thought so at the time.”

“You know what? Screw that. Screw that sixty-two ways from Sunday with a six-foot bedazzled ratchet, because nobody deserves to be tortured. So give it up, Niall. If you want my help, you have to help yourself too.”

Could he do that? Let go of the sacrifice he’d made on Gareth’s behalf? If I do, I won’t have anything left of him at all. But if he didn’t, Faerie could be doomed.

He straightened and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Then sit back down. I can’t do anything with you looming in the corner like that. You’re as bad as Alun when it comes to doing what you’re told.”

Niall settled himself in the chair again, remembering what was at stake and forcing himself to . . . to what? Think healing thoughts? :Mindfulness!: Shite. “I’ll wager I’m worse. I made it a point to always do the opposite of what anyone expected.”

“You’ll fit right into this family then.”

David’s hands were gentle on his shoulders again, and Niall closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore the consequences of revealing his deception and focusing instead on saving Eamon. Saving Faerie.

Energy flowed from David’s hands, across his back, down his arm and legs, pooling in his wrists and ankles and in the deep welts on his back. He stopped shivering, any residual pain overcome by the soothing warmth.

Goddess, how long had it been since he hadn’t been in pain? He almost couldn’t remember what it was like. The absence of pain was almost a pain in itself, as if his mind had spent so long compensating that it couldn’t process the sudden cessation.

David hummed happily. “This is going a lot better than I expected. All the open wounds are gone and you’re giving me the exact feedback I need. Wow. The scarring is even fading. It’s almost as if—” David jumped back. “Holy cats. You’re fae!” He blinked at Niall, eyes as round a bauchan’s. “Did you know?”

Niall huffed a laugh. “Yes. I knew. Of course I knew.”

David squinted one eye. “But Gareth has no clue. Setting aside how the heck you managed to hide it from him, why did you think it would be a good idea? I mean, seriously? That’s kind of a big freaking deal.”

Niall yanked his shirt over his head. “How long have you known Gareth?”

“Long enough to know he’s been so gone on you he’s nearly turned psychopathic.”

“And have you heard his opinions on the Unseelie?”

David snorted. “Who hasn’t?”

“Then you know why I didn’t tell him.”

David’s mouth fell open. “Shut up! You’re Unseelie?”

“Yes.” Niall grasped David’s wrist. “You can’t tell him. You can’t tell him I’m fae, and you especially can’t tell him I’m Unseelie.”

David squinched his face. “Seriously? I won’t have to. He’ll take one look at you—heck, Bryce will be able to see your aura with his druid sight the minute he walks in the room.”

“No they won’t.” Niall pulled the mantle of his human guise over himself like a comfortable old coat. He didn’t need the One Tree for this—it was part of his heritage from his mother, just as the communion with the ethera of the Outer World was.

David blinked. “Whoa. That’s . . . wow. How can you mask yourself so completely? Even Alun can’t fake human that well, and he’s had tons of practice.”

“I’m half-human. It comes naturally.” Niall pulled on his jacket. “I need to find that gate. Will you lead me to the wetlands?”

“Are you kidding?” David ran to the French doors and wrenched them open. “Let’s go!”