Darkest Mercy

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.”

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 vine-wrapped 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.