Darkest Mercy (26 page)

Dark Court faeries laughed, and Keenan shook his head.

He wasn’t sure who he was anymore, what he was, or if there was a tomorrow, but

now that Irial and Niall were shifting in and out of steering the Dark King’s body, Niall seemed almost sane—or at least as sane as possible when

they were off to fight War—and the faeries he would fight alongside were the most vicious of the courts.

Except Winter. Don will be there too. Other messengers had gone to Summer and Winter. Not apart but working together. It seemed like that

should matter, but a dethroned Dark King, an untrained Summer Queen, and a former Summer King weren’t the ideal group even if they were

together.

Which leaves Donia . . .

With thoughts of his beloved on his mind, he ran across Huntsdale in the company of the members of the Dark Court who hadn’t sided with

Bananach, the Dark King who was possessed by the dead Dark King, and a few solitary faeries who joined their group.

Half a block away from the fight, they had to stop running.

Even at this distance, the roar of the fray they were about to enter made more than a

few passing mortals look to the sky as if a storm rode in overhead. Be grateful you can’t see, he thought . Then he exhaled a gust of cold air toward

them, hoping to send them farther from the fight that had spilled into the street in front of him. Some of the mortals scurried away.

The former Summer King put a hand on his once-advisor’s arm. “I am no longer a regent. Her declaration of regency could mean that I am

useless against her.”

“She is not a regent,” Niall snarled.

Then Bananach’s troops swarmed toward them with weapons raised.

Niall’s faeries fought against those who should be his. The Dark Court had been weakened by Bananach’s machinations— as Summer would’ve been if I’d tried to stay.

Hounds and their steeds were already fighting, but far too many faeries had been called to Bananach’s aid. Keenan looked around at the

staggering number of faeries.

Where did they all come from?

War had been recruiting solitaries and faeries who should belong to other courts. He saw lupine and rowan and thistle-fey fighting alongside the

Ly Ergs. He wasn’t sure how they could tell enemy from ally, but one enemy was clear—Bananach. There was no doubt there. They just had to get to

her.

“Safe hunting,” Niall called as he launched himself into the fray.

Any answer Keenan could’ve offered would have been swallowed by the cacophony of violence. The loyal clashed with those who’d tried to

usurp their king, and the result was already obvious: the dead, of both sides, littered the ground.

The Summer Queen and Tavish were three blocks from the Dark Court’s warehouse when Aislinn found the composure to say the words she

didn’t want to speak: “If she hurts him or . . . worse, I will kill her.”

“Even if she doesn’t, she needs to be stopped.” Tavish kept pace with her despite the increasing speed at which she traveled.

Aislinn’s self-control was not as thorough as she would have liked: snow melted in floods in her wake; trees burst into bloom; and rivers of mud

rolled into the street.

Finally, as they were almost at the warehouse, she asked,

“Advice?”

He gestured for her to pause for a moment. As the Summer Guard raced up behind them, he said only, “Trust your instincts. If we can’t stop her, we’ll be looking at our deaths anyhow.” In front of them, Aislinn saw Dark Court fey fighting Dark Court fey, and she wasn’t sure which was the side her court fought with and which was

the side they fought against. “How do I know who to fight?” Tavish lifted his sword. “If they swing at you, defend yourself.”

“Right.” She shoved sunlight like a blade into the chest of a faery running at them. “Did we have a plan? You’re the one with experience at this.”

“The plan? Thin Bananach’s numbers, hope we can nullify or kill her, not die, and rescue Seth.” Tavish swept a Ly Erg’s legs out from under him,

and then sliced open the faery’s throat.

The sight of it gave her pause. “Is he . . .”

“Dead? Yes.” Tavish no longer looked like the diplomatic advisor she’d known. Every semblance of civility was gone as he neatly cut down

another faery without hesitation. “They knew the risk when they stood with Bananach. As do our faeries when they fight against her. . . .”

At that reminder— my faeries or the madwoman’s faeries —the twinge of horror Aislinn felt was replaced by resolve. I am the Summer Queen. These are my faeries.

She saw Keenan, cornered by

three Ly Ergs—and holding his own. My faeries and my friends.

With a concentrated look, she sent a sunbeam sizzling at the chest of one of the Ly Ergs. The faery fell, and Keenan flashed her a grin before

resuming his fight with the other two. As Aislinn started to strike another of the faeries Keenan fought, four former Dark Court faeries charged her

and Tavish.

Several more Summer Court guards came up on either side of her. Tavish stayed slightly in front of her. As far as Aislinn could see, faeries

engaged in fights to the death, and somewhere in that morass of violence Seth was trapped.

“Lead on,” she told Tavish as she directed several more sunbeams at the seditious faeries.

Tavish nodded to one of the guards, and as a group they advanced through the center of the conflict while the rest of her guard engaged the

faeries fighting for Bananach. Blades of all sorts flashed in the sunlight that radiated from her skin. If it had been only Summer Court faeries fighting

on her side, she could have let the full force of her light shine, but some of the Dark Court faeries were there to oppose Bananach. A solar flare

would blind and injure allies too.

A storm wouldn’t favor only her side either.

One at a time, then.

She didn’t know how many faeries stood between her and Seth, or even where to look for him, but he was in there.

As are my faeries and my friends.

Aislinn, Tavish, and the rowan advanced slowly, and as they did, she aimed sunbeams and sent vines tangling the enemies. They weren’t fatal

strikes, but killing still made her squeamish. In defense, she could do it. Or if Seth is injured. She blanched as a thistle-fey skewered a vinewrapped

faery, but she continued as she was. Mercy wasn’t the way of the Dark Court fey.

It won’t be mine either if Seth is injured . . . or worse.

Chapter 36

The Winter Court was last to arrive. In front of her, Donia saw Summer Court and Dark Court fey. The crush of faeries extended from the warehouse to the edge of the street and spilled into the block around them. Various rowan and Summer Girls— Summer

Girls? —fought the enemy. Others dragged mortals away from the violence.

“Summer, move !” Donia waited the count of three for the faeries to get to safety before she hissed a breath of ice into the street, chasing the

mortals away effectively and quickly. The ice from her lungs wasn’t thick enough to kill the Summer Court faeries who weren’t out of her reach, but it

did make a couple of them falter.

“Winter, here .” She let another, much stronger gust of ice coat the ground. She could keep the mortals from crossing the line into the faery war

that had erupted.

Beside her several of the most dominant of the Hawthorns and Scrimshaw Sisters and lupine stood awaiting her decisions. She gave her

faeries an icy smile. “Winter shows no mercy to Bananach.

Push forward into the thick of the fight—but only if doing so does not make the boundary

porous. No escapes.”

At her word, all of the faeries beside her except for Cwenhild carried the word to the troops. The Scrimshaw Sister waited. Without any

ceremony or drama, Cwenhild had stepped up to fill the role of chief guard and advisor.

Donia looked at her questioningly.

She shrugged and said simply, “I protect my queen.”

“I will fight.”

Cwenhild shrugged again. “So be it.”

Donia hadn’t had the years of fighting experience that the Dark Kings or the Hunt had, but what she did have was power that ached to be

released. The sheer number of faeries fighting in the streets outside the Dark King’s warehouse made it impossible for her troops to get inside, so Donia stayed with her fey. She felt the pain of loss strike her when her faeries fell, felt the cold

satisfaction of their victories, and she shivered at both sensations.

Mine. They are mine to protect.

In the midst of the fight, Ankou and Far Dorcha strode through the bodies; the death-fey were untouched by the violence. No stray arrows or

knives’ tips pierced them. Their clothes were torn, and the hem of Ankou’s winding sheet was heavy with blood and dirt and ice. She went about her

macabre business, collecting the corpses, removing them from the fight—and for the first time, Donia understood the need for the death-faery’s

work. The fallen did not deserve to be left to be trampled; the living didn’t need to see their comrades dead in their path. Ankou did necessary work

in the midst of battle.

“My Queen?” Cwenhild prompted.

“None of Bananach’s faeries are to get past you.” Donia looked up, aware that both Far Dorcha and Ankou had stopped mid-step to look at her.

The suddenness of their gazes made her falter. Seeing Death gazing back at her so studiously wasn’t encouraging.

My faeries bleed.

“I go with you. I protect my queen first and always,” Cwenhild insisted.

“No.” Donia pulled her gaze away from the two death-fey.

“You know how to lead them in battle. That is my order, Cwenhild. They need a

general, and I need you to lead them, not guard me.”

“I disagree,” Cwenhild said, “but I will do as you order.” As Donia pushed through the fight, she saw Keenan near the door of the warehouse. He hadn’t yet reached Bananach, but he was obviously

trying. Frost and frozen flecks of blood clung to his skin like a dusting of silver and crimson glitter.

“What are you doing?” she muttered. Keenan wasn’t a king anymore; he couldn’t stand against Bananach if she was a regent in truth. Only

regents or equally powerful faeries could kill regents, and Keenan had surrendered most of his power.

The Winter Queen had swords of ice in both hands, and when that wasn’t enough of an offensive, she exhaled and encased faeries in sheets of

ice. While she had been queen less than two years, she’d wielded Winter as the Winter Girl for almost a century.

Donia battled her way to Keenan, and then fought side by side with him. As she speared the chest of a thistlefey,

she told Keenan, “You waited for me. How sweet of you.”

“I am a gentleman sometimes.” The glee in Keenan’s eyes reminded her that while he had never been as adept at fighting as he was at

seduction, he was still far more experienced at fighting than either she or Aislinn were.

We can do this.

Donia turned so that she was back-to-back with Keenan; she erected a wall of ice in the path of the faeries who advanced toward them,

effectively dividing the fight. All those who would come up behind them were now locked out. Her faeries, along with the dark and summer fey,

would deal with the mutinous lot outside the warehouse.

The Hounds, the rowan, and the Dark Court fey inside would stand against the faeries left

on this side of her barrier.

She turned back to face Keenan, and for a brief moment, they were alone with a wall of ice behind them, and the chaos of violence in front of

them. “Where’s Niall?”

“Somewhere in there.” Keenan motioned with a lift of his chin toward the warehouse. “He’s a bit more determined.”

“Nothing to do with his skills,” Donia teased.

“Maybe a little, but”—Keenan gave her a look that was every bit the wicked faery she’d woken up next to—“I’m sticking to the ‘waiting for you’

answer.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Donia glanced his way.

The impishness in his eyes was replaced by resolve. “Ash and Niall are in there. Bananach already killed Evan, Gabriel, Irial, possibly Seth if he

was still in his cage. . . .”

“Seth was caged here?” Donia looked toward the melee.

“Does Ash know?”

Keenan shook his head. “That’s not something I’ll be telling Ash either. It’s not my business now.” The ease with which Keenan had slipped into non–

Summer Court gave Donia a brief pause, but the truth was that Keenan was a faery, had only ever been a faery. His loyalty was to court first, and

right now, he’d offered that loyalty to Niall—and to her.

Just like that. He is a subject . . . to protect. Carefully, she suggested, “You could stay out

here—”

“Don?” Keenan’s glare was withering. “I’m not a king anymore, but I’m far from defenseless. Plus, I have plans for a future now . . . one that

requires peace.”

He stepped into the warehouse.

She wanted to be angry, but if he hadn’t been the sort of faery who’d stood against impossible odds repeatedly, they’d never be where they

were. She’d not be a faery; he’d not have found Aislinn.

And we wouldn’t be together now.

But she was a regent, and he wasn’t. She stepped around him. “If you get killed, I’m going to be furious.”

“I love you too. Come on.”

Together they started to force their way through the fight.

The Winter inside his skin wasn’t as strong as hers, but he slammed what he had into a

faery who came at him with a mace. Donia loathed the necessity of what they were doing, but the sight of two dead Hounds, dead rowan, and more

dark fey than she wanted to count strengthened her resolve.

As they got closer, Donia spotted Niall and Bananach fighting. Aislinn was nowhere to be seen. Let her be alive.

Chela— now Gabriela— was a vision of horror as she fought with a fury that befit the