Thanks for the reviews this story has recieved thus far. I look foward to more regarding this chapter. ^_^ So, this may take you by surprise, but this is one of the few chapters that involve Niall's POV. It's relatively brief compared to the last, but it was sort of spur-of-the-moment. Upon finishing this, you might also be able to get a clear idea of where this story is headed. I also don't own Wicked Lovely. Melissa Marr does. She's the innovator for my imagination. And I love her characters. :) Please REVIEW!

Being emotionally torn was not something Niall enjoyed. In fact, he hated it. But he knew better than to trust Irial again. Or at least, I should have known not to. Now he was left berating his advisor and being an unkempt mess of irritation. Now he had to explain to Irial in such vague, emotionless words why their doomed relationship mustn't continue.

And for that, I am a coward. A coward for not admitting to myself the truth, and a coward for committing to something and then reneging.

There was no way Niall could justify to himself his behavior towards Irial. Irial, who despite all of his misgivings, genuinely loved him. Niall tasted it. Every time they made love he tasted it, and at first he'd blamed it on the endorphin rush of sex, but after a while there were less and less excuses to hide behind.

Yes, loved. As if Irial would love him after all of the nastiness he was subjecting him to. But like a dumb fool, as he had for twelve centuries, even as Niall fervently ignored him, Irial continued to love blindly. So what would stop him now?

Niall turned away from the mirror where he'd been staring at his reflection. The face he'd seen was not his. It was too cold, too aloof, yet too close to breaking its calm mask. He was teetering on the brink of indifference and anger.

His now obsidian eyes, which to this day still had a way of frightening him, looked far too much like Irial's. And his hair, which he'd once worn shorn was now almost as long as it had once been; almost shoulder length. The unruly locks he usually kept from his face always managed to find their way back. He'd been thinking that perhaps the reason he grew out his hair was because Irial always like it long, but wouldn't admit that to himself.

I shouldn't be doing things for Irial. But he was, and that was the problem.

Niall turned down one of the house's innumerable corridors and tried to instead focus on court matters. He would need to have a gathering soon to talk abut Bannanach's relentless mutinies. He would also need to seek out Gabriel. But most of those affairs could wait. What he needed most at the moment was advice from Irial, but after their scuffle in the dining hall, Irial was nowhere to be found. Which means I have to find him, and seeking him out personally is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

Niall stopped a nearby servant- they all seem to be waiting on me day and night- and asked her where Irial was.

The servant flinched, to his surprise, and said nothing. Niall's brow furrowed as he asked her again. Again, she ignored him, the fear in her eyes great. "Did you not hear me?" he repeated. "Where is Irial?"

When he stepped closer to her, his height intimidating, she finally spoke. "I am to not to tell you", she admitted with a bowed head. Her lip trembled. "He says that I shall not."

Niall's past aggression resurfaced. "But I am your King now. Not Irial. Where is he?"

The servant looked absolutely torn between her loyalty to her old king and to her new one. After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, she finally said, "In Huntsdale there is a nightclub called "Electra". No other words were spoken, and Niall felt no need to push her for more details. He knew that Irial would not have told her much else about the nightclub if he didn't wish to be found easily. Or at all.

Instead of feeling sympathy as he had earlier for Irial, Niall was now absolutely furious that he would dare instruct one of Niall's faeries to refuse their own Dark King. He was even more upset that Irial felt the need to keep secrets from him. It made Niall wonder how many more secrets Irial was still withholding.

Glaring at the servant to make sure she knew there would be a consequence to her lack of coordination, Niall said, "You are to answer me when I ask you a question. Never make that mistake again."

She fearfully swallowed and bowed her head.

Yes, Niall decided. The gathering can wait. Grabbing his jacket and stepping into the windy night air, he sought out Irial, whose secretive and irksome behavior only added to the many mistrusts in their relationship.

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