Darkest Mercy (25 page)

“Do you declare yourself queen of this court?”

“I do,” Bananach said.

“Then the Hunt challenges you.” Chela added silently to her Hunt, On my word . . . Ready . . .

“Fair warning,” Chela said aloud. “The Hunt comes here as sworn support of the rightful regent of the Dark Court.

Stand against us, and be

found our enemy.”

She focused on each of them, marking their faces and scents in her mind.

Know them. Remember them , she told the Hunt. They stood with the one who killed our Gabriel, who killed his daughter, who killed Irial. No

mercy. No survivors.

The bemused expression on Bananach’s face was unfaltering. She looked only at Chela, but she told the assembled traitors, “You’ve sworn

fealty to me, and I’ve spoken War. They stand with our enemies, and as your queen, I order you: kill them all.” Now , Chela growled to her Hunt.

Then Bananach launched herself at Chela in a blur of feathers and talons, and there were no more words.

Hounds and faeries and steeds filled the Dark Court’s warehouse with screams and blood. Bodies crashed together in a fight that had been too long in coming.

Send the messengers for the faery courts. This is the end.

Chapter 34

Keenan had just listened to Niall and Irial explain that because of Faerie being closed they could— possibly —

kill Bananach. Everyone knew

that Bananach wasn’t going to stop, but killing her on the basis of the new seer’s word . . . that was a bit of a leap.

“I’m not sure we can kill her. She’s strong,” Irial pointed out. “She killed me and cut through Devlin like he was untrained. We’ve got us, the

Hounds, and those we can round up from the other courts.”

“Could we contain her?” Keenan asked.

Before anyone could reply, one of the thistle-fey came into the wreckage-strewn room unannounced. “My King!” He half pushed, half dragged

another faery in front of him. “War has come.” Before they could reply, the faery that had been shoved into the room said, “The Hunt has begun the battle, Your Majesties.” He looked from Niall

to Keenan and back to Niall. “The Huntswoman sent us to each of the three courts. The fight . . . Bananach sits on your throne, has declared herself

Dark Queen.”

“She what ?” Niall— or perhaps Irial —asked.

Keenan repressed a shiver at the darkness in that voice.

He’d seen Niall angry, understood the horrible depths that both kings were capable of

separately, and now wondered what it would mean to have both of those tempers in the same body.

“We have our answer.” Niall-Irial stood. The Dark King caught Leslie’s hand, and the terrible darkness vanished.

“Will you stay here? If

things . . .”

“I’ll be here. Not forever, but for a couple days until everything is sorted out.” The mortal girl embraced the Dark King. “Go kick her ass.”

With something like awe in his expression, the Dark King—whichever of them—looked at Leslie and then kissed her briefly.

He turned to Keenan. “Will you fight? Or now that you have no sunlight . . . are you able?” Instead of answering, Keenan let winter fill his eyes as he looked at the Dark King. “I am not skilled with this element, but I am not exactly

defenseless.”

Irial—because that dry tone was clearly not Niall—said,

“Well, wouldn’t Beira be . . . shocked?”

“No.” Keenan shook his head. “She knew all along what I could do. I chose to be Summer, and she knew it every day of my life.”

The Dark King smiled. “Your father would’ve been proud.” Keenan paused and admitted, “I hope so. . . . Niall?”

“No. . . . That was Irial.” Niall shook his head. “I hear him when he speaks now. I hear him speaking in my head to only me, and I hear him when

he speaks to you with . . . through me.” Keenan stared at Niall. “Can you fight like this?”

“I can. I feel better now than I have since he died.” Niall frowned. “I don’t know if it’s from sleeping or knowing he’s still with me or . . .” Niall’s

words faded as he put aside whatever thoughts he was trying to make sense of. He looked at Keenan. “Donia knows about your capacity for

Winter?”

“She was the only one alive who did know until now.” Keenan looked around the room. The mortal, the Dark Kings, the messenger, and the

thistle-fey all stared back at him, and the former Summer King felt like a carnival curiosity. “Do we have a plan?”

“Weapons,” Niall called. “We fight War. Now .” Dark Court faeries came trooping into the room as if utterly unconcerned by the king’s declaration that they were going to fight War. One tossed

a halberd to—or possibly at —Keenan. They were nothing like the faeries he had been surrounded by his whole life.

Several of them paused to

smile at the mortal girl; Leslie sat peacefully in their midst as if they weren’t loathsome. None of the thistle-fey touched her, but most every faery that crossed the threshold beamed at the sight of her, and many of the not-painful-to-touch faeries stroked her cheek or arm as they passed her.

Through it all, Leslie said nothing.

The messenger looked far less at ease.

The messenger . . .

Keenan passed the halberd off to a thistle-fey and grabbed the messenger. “Go to the water, the river, and tell them that the bestia brings

deaths. Tell them that Innis promised to aid me. Go.” The Dark King hefted a broadsword. “You weren’t merely out sulking after all.”

A group of three faeries came in with arms full of weapons—many bloodstained—and tossed them onto the floor. Other faeries sifted through the weapons. The flow of armed faeries started toward

the street. They were chortling and grinning.

The messenger fled, and Keenan shrugged. “Having allies seemed wise.”

“Are we allies now, kingling?”

“I’m not a king , but I will fight with the Dark Court and any of those who stand against Bananach, and not”—Keenan stared directly at the Dark

King and grabbed several throwing knives from the stack of weapons—“because of a threat by either of you.”

“You are your father’s son,” Irial remarked.

Keenan looked back at the faery who had bound him, who now possessed the king he’d offered to advise. “I won’t ever like you, but my father

saw something worthwhile in you, and so does Niall.

Summer will, undoubtedly, be there, and I know Winter will.”

“Then let’s move so we’re not last to the party.”

“My Queen!” Tavish’s voice rang through the loft.

Aislinn felt as much as heard the panic bloom in her seemingly imperturbable advisor. She hurriedly pulled a sundress over her head, but she

was barefoot when she rushed to the main room of the loft. The onslaught of full Summer inside of her made it hard to stand still, so at the least, the burst of speed to her advisor’s side was refreshing.

“What’s wrong?”

“A messenger arrived, my Queen.” Tavish was moving toward her even as he spoke, and he stood at her side before he continued, “The war

has begun.”

The messenger flinched and turned her face from the flash of light that filled the room. New powers; not really the best time to go diving into

battles. Aislinn sighed, and eddies of wind tore books from the shelves. With effort, she spoke softly. “Where? Who fights?”

“The Dark Court’s warehouse, my lady.” The doe-eyed faery moved aside as a torn bit of curtain floated to the floor beside her. “The Hunt

started the fight when Bananach declared herself Dark Queen . . . and the Gabriela bade me tell you that War has Seth.”

“She has Seth,” Aislinn repeated, with a stillness that was the polar opposite of her emotions. “Has him how ?

Where?”

“In a cage.” The faery stepped backward even as she spoke. “Gabriela—”

“Gabriela?” Tavish interrupted.

“Hound that was Chela. The Gabriel’s dead, so she’s Gabriela.” The faery shivered as rain filled the room. “I am blameless, Summer Queen.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Aislinn muttered. Every bit of self-control she had was going into keeping her temper in check.

So really not the time to do this.

Tavish advised, “The rain is fine, my Queen, but the sunlight in here is growing dangerous to any not of our court.”

“Oh.” Aislinn concentrated specifically on dulling the light and heat. She inhaled the warmth with a steady breath and then stared at her advisor

with sunlight still pulsing on her tongue. Carefully, she said, “Let’s take it to where it can be dangerous to the right one then.”

Tavish nodded. “The Summer Guard will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Fine, but I’m leaving in five, with or without guards.” Aislinn strode off.

The Summer Queen returned to her room to pull on boots and jeans. Getting her feet crushed by flailing faeries was an avoidable injury, and her

wet sundress was far from ideal for movement. Or fighting.

She shucked off her clothes and yanked on jeans. I can’t fight worth a damn. She’d taken

lessons from Tavish, trained with the guard after Donia had stabbed her. It’s not the same as centuries of experience. The handles of her drawer turned to ashes in her hand. Or any experience with all of summer inside me. Ashes slipped from her hand to the floor.

Siobhan came in. “Let me help.”

“Stupid wood.” Aislinn wiped her hand on her jeans.

The new Summer advisor pulled out the charred drawer.

Aislinn blinked away sudden tears of frustration and worry.

“How am I to do this? I can’t control this yet.”

“You don’t need to keep it in check in a fight, Aislinn.” Siobhan reached in to grab the blade nestled among the T-shirts and immediately pulled

her hand back when she realized that the blade was steel.

“Got it. That I can touch.” Aislinn wrapped her hand around the hilt. “I want you to stay here.” Then she yelled over her shoulder, “Two minutes!”

“I can fight.” Siobhan glared at her queen. “I’ve been—”

“Not doubting you.” Aislinn pulled her hair back into a hasty braid. “I need someone to handle things here if we don’t . . . If anyone gets past us,

there are faeries here who are not designed for fights. You are in charge until I return.”

Siobhan bowed. “I won’t fail you.”

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but . . .” Aislinn shook her head, and then she looked at her friend and advisor. She took a deep breath and

nodded. “I can do this.”

“You can.” Siobhan squeezed Aislinn’s free hand. “You are the Summer Queen. The first faery to hold the full weight of Summer in more than

nine hundred years. Trust your instincts.” Aislinn laughed. “My instinct is that I want to incinerate Bananach. Summer is to rejoice. Threatening my faeries?

Starting conflicts with my friends? Injuring Seth ? Not encouraging much rejoicing.”

“He’s going to be fine.” Siobhan stared directly at her.

“How can you say that? You don’t know—”

“Neither do you,” Siobhan said firmly. “And if he’s not, we’ll deal with it, but right now, your beloved needs rescuing.” Aislinn leaned in and kissed Siobhan’s cheek. “I knew you would be a fabulous advisor.”

Then the Summer Queen strode through the loft, calling,

“Time’s up.”

Some of her faeries were still strapping on weapons, but Tavish was at the door. “Those not ready will follow in short order.”

Admittedly relieved that he was at her side, Aislinn nodded, and together she and her advisor led the Summer Guard toward the Dark Court’s

warehouse.

Chapter 35

While the remaining Dark Court faeries assembled, the Dark King turned to Keenan. “Seth. He’s still at the warehouse. If the Summer Queen

learns . . .”

“Ash will meet us there, and unless someone speaks otherwise,

she’ll think it was Bananach who . . . caged him,” Keenan said.

The Dark King nodded. “He was alive when I left.”

“Let’s hope he’s still that way when we get there,” Keenan muttered, “and when Ash gets there.”

“Sorcha was ready to kill us all to protect him,” Niall-Irial said almost absently as he walked over to a panel on the wall and opened it. “I didn’t

intend him to die . . . else I’d have given him to Far Dorcha.”

“Am I the only one who hasn’t crossed paths with the Dark Man?” Keenan asked.

The Dark King walked over to the mortal on the sofa. He knelt in front of her and handed her a gun and a spare clip.

“Solid steel bullets. We

can’t use them, but you’re still mortal enough that you can.

Use them if she comes here. I think you’re safer here than anywhere else, but . . .”

Leslie nodded.

“If I . . . we die . . .” The Dark King faltered. “Don’t hesitate to ask them for help. Seth, Keenan, Ash, whoever lives.

Whatever you need to do to

survive. . . . I wish you didn’t have to deal with this, Shadow Girl. This world, this—”

“If Bananach wins, she’ll kill me.” Leslie trailed her fingers over Niall’s scarred cheek and added, “I love you.”

“And we love you.” The Dark King kissed her softly, and then he looked around the room at the assembled faeries.

“Seth says we can kill

Bananach. Let’s go find out if he’s right.”

“And if he’s not?” Keenan asked.

“We either die by her hand or as a result of killing her.” The Dark King shrugged. “I’d rather go out in a fight.” The former Summer King lifted a short sword. “It’s a shame we can’t use guns. Walk in, shoot her, and be done with it.”

Niall laughed. “You stop being king for all of what . . . a day?”

He glanced at Keenan, who shrugged. “About that.”

“A day of being solitary and you want to throw Faerie Law aside.” Niall gestured for the remaining faeries to precede him and slung an arm over

Keenan’s shoulder. “You might be qualified to advise the Dark Court after all.”

“Assuming we aren’t about to get slaughtered,” Keenan added.

“Sure.” Niall followed his faeries into the street. “Some of us will live . . . or we’ll all die. Either way, I don’t see the benefit of worrying about it.”