Darkest Mercy

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 thistle-fey, 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 Gabriel of the Hunt. Friends, faeries she’d known for most of her life, and those whom her friends had sworn to lead and protect were in the midst of violence.

As they pushed forward, they reached the faery who’d raised Keenan and served as his advisor Keenan’s entire life. Tavish wiped his sword on the shirt of a fallen Ly Erg. “Well, it’s about time you got here.”

“Ash? Seth?” Keenan asked him.

“My queen is over there.” Tavish pointed to a crush of bodies with his sword. “Seth is apparently in a cage on the other side of the wall of shadows the Dark King put in place to protect him.”

A roar from the Dark King rocked the room as several abyss-guardians took shape alongside Bananach.

That’s not a good sign.

“She’s winning,” Tavish said, rather unnecessarily. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to stop her.”

The abyss-guardians looked from Bananach to Niall, but did nothing more than hover in the space near the two. Their loyalty was to the regent of the Dark Court, but that loyalty was compromised by Bananach’s actions.

Which means she is a regent.

“Maybe we can at least contain her,” Keenan started. “It’s not ideal, but . . . it’s better than letting her loose on the world.”

“Good idea.” Donia squeezed Keenan’s hand and sent a spear of ice flinging toward War.

Bananach batted it out of the air without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re picking the wrong side, Snow.”

“Not really.” Donia set a sheet of ice to form under the raven-faery’s feet. “You can’t take another ruler’s throne.”

“But I did,” Bananach crowed. “He’s weak.”

The Dark King wasn’t wasting breath on words: he head-butted her.

Neither Keenan nor Tavish would be able to stand against Bananach: the abyss-guardians only appeared for Dark Court regents.

And only a regent can kill a regent.

That left Niall and Aislinn.

And me.

“I love you,” she told Keenan—and then she ran forward and sealed a wall of ice around herself and the small space where Bananach and Niall fought, looking the three of them in a frozen cage. The Winter Queen concentrated on making the wall thick enough that even if Bananach did defeat both of them, the raven-faery wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon.

Niall looked up and nodded curtly at her.

Through the ice, Donia could see Keenan clawing at the barricade. She turned her back on him.

“Tear it down.” Bananach pushed shadows at the wall. Nothing happened.

“Doesn’t work that way.” Niall slammed his fist into Bananach’s face. With his other hand, he raised an obsidian blade that he’d pulled from somewhere on his body and slashed toward her throat.

War dodged, and the blade glanced off her collarbone. A red gouge there showed that he’d at least made contact.

While Niall continued to fight Bananach, Donia crept closer.

She sent ice to wrap around the raven-faery. It started at the floor and covered her up to her hips, encasing her lower body in a miniature glacier, but between the wall around them and the ice used for fighting, the glacier wasn’t as strong as it would’ve been if Donia had not expended so much energy already.

Niall continued striking Bananach even as she was unable to move. The Dark King was not in full possession of his court’s powers, and War was in possession of her full strength as well as the rest of the Dark Court’s strength. He needed every advantage he could get.

And I’m not going to be useful too much longer.

“Your death is inevitable if you continue to irritate me.” Bananach pushed through the snow and ice as if she was wading through deep waters. “Perhaps that throne should be mine too.”

The Winter Queen didn’t see the need to engage in verbal barbs; she concentrated on collecting the remaining strength she had, pulling the deepest cold to the surface of her skin. She let the cold fill her, and she watched the fight.

Niall angled to block Bananach from Donia.

Steadily, Donia eased up behind Niall, extending ice in a thick blade from both of her hands.

“Bad idea,” Bananach warned.

Donia ignored her. One chance. When she was within range, she raised her hands.

Just as she was ready to tell Niall to get out of the way, he was shoved to the side. In an almost simultaneous move, Bananach extended a sword of shadows and drove it clear through Donia’s abdomen. “You’ve become too much of a nuisance, Snow.”

Donia concentrated every remaining bit of Winter she could focus on the short blades of solid ice extending from her hands. Her legs gave out, so her weight was supported on the sword that War had buried in her body. The Winter Queen lifted both hands and tried to drive them into Bananach’s neck.

“I don’t think so.” The raven-faery leaned backward.

War withdrew her sword, and as she did so it re-formed as an ax. She swept her arm to the side. The shadow-made weapon was still taking shape as Bananach brought it down on Donia’s chest.

“Donia!” Niall yelled, and it was the last thing Donia heard before she fell to the bloody floor.