Melissa Marr - Darkest Mercy

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.

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.”