Darkest Mercy

Chapter 29

After the king-no-more had left, Aislinn remained in her park, surrounded by her faeries, and wondered at the intensity she felt. If she’d thought being coregent was overwhelming, having the other half of Summer fill her was soul-melting.

I can’t imagine if all of this had hit me at once. How did Donia do it? How did Niall?

At the thought of the other recent regents, she straightened. They had done it; they’d taken control of their courts, led them, guarded them. Undoubtedly, they’d had struggles she hadn’t known of, but they’d done it.

And so will I.

She squared her shoulders and looked at her court. First things first. You’ve been doing this with half the strength and handling it while he was away. You can do this. The Summer Queen smiled at her faeries.

Tavish came to stand beside her throne. Several of the Summer Girls stepped forward. Some of the rowan took position as guards; others moved throughout the crowd. Three glaistigs who were attached to the court under temporary vows of fealty divided into other positions—one to either side of the throne where she sat and the third to the far edge of the park. Aobheall had stepped outside her fountain and stood between the Summer Girls and rowan people.

Her court waited for her to lead them.

“I’m guessing all of the Summer Girls”—she let her gaze drift over them—“are free to leave the . . . my court, but I would like you all to stay.”

Most of them nodded or smiled; a few looked unsure.

“You do not have to decide today,” Aislinn added. Then she sought two of the girls who had been instrumental in helping her understand what it took to lead the court. “Siobhan? Eliza?”

“My Queen,” they said in tandem.

“I’d like you to join Tavish as my court counselors,” she said.

Eliza gasped quietly, but Siobhan grinned.

“Summer Girls are foolish, spinning things, my Queen,” Siobhan said lightly. Her eyes widened in a faux attempt at naïveté.

Aislinn laughed. “If you wanted me to believe that was all you were, you shouldn’t have advised me when Seth was missing. You can all remain exactly as you were before. I expect that you will still rejoice and frolic. All of my court will do so. . . . First, though, we will consult with the Winter and Dark Courts, and we will figure out how to contain Bananach.”

The Summer Queen turned her attention to Tavish. “You will be sole commander of guards in addition to advising me with”—she glanced at Siobhan, who nodded, and Eliza, who shook her head—“my new advisor, Siobhan.”

After a brief proud look, Tavish bowed his head. “It is my honor.”

Three matters resolved. She had her guard, her new advisor, and had extended welcome to the Summer Girls. Now, she needed to deal with a situation that had grown unacceptable.

“You”—Aislinn turned her gaze to Quinn—“need to answer some questions.”

Quinn had stood silently while she selected his replacement. He hadn’t approached when she began tending business, nor had he functioned as a guard. Instead, he had stayed at the edge of the group of assembled faeries. “My queen?”

“You’ve questioned me.” She advanced toward him, noticing that bands of flowers rippled out from wherever she stepped and making a mental note to figure out how to turn that off.

Quinn watched her approach without backing away.

Point for that. She paused. Or not. Is it courage or disdain?

“You do not treat me with the respect one accords his queen,” she said softly.

Quinn locked his gaze with hers. “I serve my court.”

“The question is if you serve my court,” she countered.

When he didn’t reply, she pressed, “Do you serve the Summer Court?”

As Quinn stared at her, Aislinn felt the heat of the Summer Court burning in her skin. She put her hand on his shoulder. At her touch, his shirt burned away, and his skin sizzled.

Turn it down, she cautioned herself. Her expression showed nothing, but a brush of guilt slid across her chest. I didn’t mean to. . . . She steeled herself. These are faeries, and I am their queen. Seeing me falter will do more harm than good. She forced Quinn to his knees. “What court do you serve, Quinn?”

“I am the advisor to—”

“No,” Aislinn said quietly. “What court do you serve? You are not here to serve my wishes, so whose will do you serve?”

“Sorcha’s,” he admitted. “The High Queen sent her representatives and . . . she wanted word of our court.”

“My court,” Aislinn corrected. “If you were spying on my court for another regent, this is not your court. Go.”

“Go?” he echoed.

Aislinn gave him the faery-cruel smile she’d learned when she became Summer Queen. When Keenan taught me to pretend I was not overwhelmed. The smile did not falter, nor did her voice as she said, “She wants you, go serve her court. My faeries do not serve the wishes of other regents without my consent.”

“But . . . but the veil is closed. I can’t go to Faerie.” Quinn’s usual self-confident expression was absent as he looked up at her. “I . . . beseech you: grant me your mercy, please.”

The Summer Queen stared at the kneeling faery. Around her, the court was silent. Mercy? She didn’t want to be cruel, but she now understood what it meant to lead. Sometimes, a regent had to do things that would keep her up at night. It wasn’t always clear, but absolute good and evil were the stuff of children’s fairy tales.

Firmly, she told him, “I don’t trust you, Quinn. You put another court’s interests ahead of my court while claiming to serve me. The safety of my faeries is my first priority. It must be.”

“But . . .” He bowed his head. “I cannot go to her, and out there . . . War is angry. Please?”

Aislinn sighed. “Advisors?”

“He cannot be allowed to remain in the loft or within the upper levels of the building,” Tavish said.

“Or to attend any meeting or to know the touch of any of the summer fey,” Siobhan added.

“Or to serve as guard,” Tavish said.

“My advisors seem to be leaving the option of mercy on the table, Quinn.” The Summer Queen looked at her advisors and smiled. Then she looked down at Quinn. “You carried word to another court. You were not truly my faery. You are no longer Summer Court, but if you are solitary, you may linger among us for your safety until such time as you find a new court—if my advisors can find suitable use for you.”

“You are merciful,” Quinn said, with gratitude plain in his expression.

Aislinn caught his throat in her hand and let just a little heat into her touch—not enough to truly wound, but enough that her handprint would remain when she released him. “If your actions endanger my faeries, my mercy will end.”

“Yes, m—”

“And if your actions”—she squeezed—“continue, you will be the one to see how much damage a fully capable Summer regent can do.” Then, Aislinn released him. “Get him out of my presence.”

Eliza stepped up along with two rowan. The Summer Girl said quietly, “I would ask to join the guard, my Queen.”

“I don’t see why not. If”—she shot a glance at Tavish—“the head of the guard approves.”

“Training will commence after we escort Quinn to a comfortable cell.” Tavish motioned for Eliza to grab Quinn’s arm, and then he added, “I think we might have a job for you, Quinn. How do you feel about being a training aid?”

The fastidious ex-advisor scowled, and then said, “If the Summer Queen would like me to do so, I will do so.”

Aislinn nodded. “I think a number of the Summer Girls could use some basic defense—”

“And offense, my Queen,” Siobhan interjected.

“Defense and offense training. Quinn will make a fine dummy to practice their skills on.” Aislinn didn’t bother smothering her smile.

Quinn gritted his teeth. “As you wish.”

And with that, Eliza and Tavish led him away.

Aislinn sat back in the vine-wrought throne and told her court, “I want to celebrate, to dance with you, to lose ourselves in weeks of revelry, but the king-no-more has made a sacrifice in order to give us the strength to stand with the Cold and the Darkness. Once we find a way to contain War, I promise you we will celebrate as I want to right now.”

Her faeries smiled and cheered.

“The park is safe. Bananach cannot enter it without my consent. No one can,” Aislinn assured them. “You may stay in the park or you can stay in the Summer Court’s building, but without my leave, you may not go anywhere else. Dance or rest, make love or make music, but remain within the space where you are safe.”

Despite the restrictions she’d just imposed—or maybe because they were summer fey—her faeries seemed perfectly content with her command. They are. She felt tendrils of connection to each of them, and she knew they weren’t feigning their cooperation. They trusted her and her judgment.

Please don’t let me fail them.