Darkest Mercy

“You told me last year that you didn’t want me to see the ugly part of the Dark Court, that you didn’t want the whole bastard thing”—Seth paused, weighing the words, trying to balance hurt and logic—“to affect me . . . that I wouldn’t see you the same if I did.”

  The hope in Niall’s expression was at odds with the battered state he was in. “You told me I was wrong.”

  “You were right.” Seth stared directly at Niall. “I don’t see you the same way.”

  “I’m sorry,” Niall said.

  “I’m not an idiot. I knew what you were. Objectively, I got it. If you weren’t capable of horrible choices, you wouldn’t be a faery. If you weren’t capable of doing those things, you wouldn’t have been able to be the Dark King.”

  “You mean horrible like keeping secrets that lead to deaths and violence and chaos?” Niall snorted.

  “And caging your friends? And getting unthroned by War because you’re unbalanced and acting like an ass?” Seth clasped the Dark King’s upper arm. “I don’t see you the same, but I can live with what I do see. You’re my brother.”

  Niall pulled Seth in for a brief one-armed hug. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you still have both eyes.”

  As Seth stepped away, he shook his head. “Next time? Direct the bastard thing elsewhere.”

  “Or what?”

  “Seriously?” Seth grinned. “I had a little time to think while I was in my cage. . . . The voice of reason is pretty lacking on this side of the veil, and unless my mother and the Shadow Court decide to remove the veil, you all might need to have the occasional reminder here.”

  “You declaring yourself a king, little brother? Bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” Niall’s tone was more curious than anything.

  “I watched you become more balanced when I came to you, and when I decided to do . . . whatever it took to balance you, I felt it. I felt you, Niall. I hung in the cage where you put me, and I watched Bananach come into your court and take it from you, and I accepted the inevitable.” Seth understood the rightness of what he’d had to do, but part of him mourned it. “I am Sorcha’s heir. I’m the only faery in the mortal world who can be your balance. I am the Order to your Darkness.”

  “So you’re what? The King of Order?” Niall watched him with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

  “No. I’m not king of anything. I suspect I’ll get enough of court structure and pomp in Faerie.” Seth rolled his eyes at the thought of trying to be a king. “I’m your balance, though.”

  Niall smiled.

  Seth continued, “It wouldn’t be bad to have the solitary fey know there’s someone they can talk to if any of you all get stupid again. My two brothers head the Dark Court and the Shadow Court. My mother is High Queen. My”—Seth glanced over to where Aislinn and Tavish talked—“Ash is the Summer Queen. I can see the future; I can go between the two worlds; and I can reason with the faeries I love, the faeries who are family, and the faeries I call friends.”

  The expression on Niall’s face became utterly unreadable. “You think you could stand up to her? No conflict of interest—”

  “You’re sharing your house with Discord,” Seth reminded him. “And I’ll be damned if I believe he’s not going to play favorites.”

  The faery in question walked past Seth. “Well, seer, luckily your future sight wouldn’t encourage you to play favorites, sacrifice people, gamble with courts. . . .” Irial paused and withdrew a cigarette case and lighter from Niall’s pocket. He extracted a cigarette, glanced at Seth, and drawled, “Say, like letting me die for your agenda.”

  Silently, Niall took the cigarette from Irial, lit it, and inhaled.

  Seth shrugged. “Who’s to say I didn’t see the end result? You’re not addictive to mortals. Either of you. You’re back at odds, where you like to be. Bananach’s dead . . . and Leslie is sitting in your house, where all three of you hope she will eventually stay.”

  At their stunned expressions, Seth paused. “Of course, there were other outcomes that were a lot less positive for you, but . . . a lot of things worked out because of your death.”

  “You may do all right at this balancing thing, boy.” Irial shook his head, and then turned his attention to Niall. “Our Shadow Girl waits at the house.”

  “Leslie waits at our home,” Niall corrected.

  And Discord smiled.

  Seth smiled too as he watched them walk away. The threads he could see for the two faeries were woven tightly together, and in many of the possible futures, he saw

  Leslie’s not-quite-mortal, not-quite-fey thread wrapped with theirs. She wasn’t anywhere near ready to stay with the Dark Court, but there were more than a few possible futures for her that brought her into a happy future with the two faeries who loved her and each other.

  As he looked at their entangled futures, Seth felt a surge of envy. He wasn’t sure what the future held—if he was about to lose Aislinn, if he had an eternity of trying to accept her relationship with another faery—but he did know that he’d wasted time with Aislinn because of his fears.

  No more.

  He walked over to her, and with a comfort he hadn’t felt in months, he took her hand. Sunlight flared from her skin. She might not be his forever, but after what had just happened, she was going to be his tonight. Whether he was staying or going, he was going to spend tonight in her arms.

  Chapter 40

  After washing the signs of the fight away from both of them, the Winter Queen had tenderly lain Keenan in the bed they’d shared. She’d done everything she could to keep him safe, and it hadn’t worked.

  It’s not fair to finally have a chance at forever together and have it taken away. She glanced at his motionless body again. Maybe we were never meant to have forever. She’d spent more than an hour of pacing anxiously. Now, she was alternating between weeping, stroking his face, and talking to him.

  “You’re an idiot,” she whispered tearfully.

  Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms.

  For a moment, he blinked at her. Then he asked, “Are you dead too?”

  “No.” She leaned in as carefully as she could and brushed her lips over his. How do I do this? She sat back and examined his lips for frostbite.

  “Don?” Keenan’s face crinkled in a frown. “I don’t understand.”

  He’s here. That’s the important part.

  “You’re alive.”

  “And you are.” Keenan struggled to sit up. He frowned briefly. “I guess giving up my Winter left me weaker than I thought it would. I feel . . . wrong.”

  The sob that Donia intended to hold in escaped.

  “Don?” He tried to pull her to him, but she resisted—and he couldn’t move her.

  Despite her resolve, frozen tears raced down her cheeks and onto the sheets. “I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked. His voice was almost the same, but it sounded different enough that every word he spoke reminded her of his changed state.

  “Getting hurt. This.” She pointed at him in the bed.

  He caught her hand in his. “I’m alive . . . with you . . . in your bed. What do you have to be sorry about?”

  “You’re mortal,” she blurted. Graceful, Don. She opened her mouth to try to say more, but he was laughing.

  There were a lot of reactions she’d considered while he’d lain unconscious in her bed, but laughter wasn’t one of them. He held her hand and laughed until she was a bit worried. Then he shook his head. “Well, that’s new.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Don?” Keenan tugged her to him, and she let herself be pulled into his embrace.

  Careful; no frost, no ice.

  “I’m here with you. I don’t care about anything else.” Keenan stared at her with something like wonder in his very mortal blue eyes. “You’re alive,
and I’m here with you.”

  “But—”

  “I love you, and I’m here with you.” He slid his hand over her cheek. “Nothing else matters.”

  “You’ll die,” she protested.

  “Not today.” He covered her mouth with his and kissed her just as thoroughly as he had when he was a faery. His arms slid around her, and he pulled her down beside him.

  The fear of hurting him made her cautious, but he had no hesitation. His hand was at the buttons of her shirt. Mortality hadn’t erased his deftness with clothing removal either.

  He leaned back for a moment to tug her shirt down her arms, with the same wicked, lovely smile that had first stolen her breath years ago.

  “You know,” he said, “after centuries, there aren’t too many things I can think of that I’ve wanted to try but haven’t.”

  “Oh?” Cautiously, she slid her hands over his chest.

  “Mm-hmm.” His fingertips traced her collarbone and down her arm, while his other hand unzipped her skirt.

  She lifted her hips for him to remove her skirt.

  “What did . . .” she started, but her words vanished as he leaned over and kissed her hip.

  A few moments later, he whispered against her skin, “You know what I’ve never done?”

  Absently, she realized that while he had distracted her with one hand, he’d used his other hand to remove the pajama pants she’d put on him. With effort she forced her eyes to stay open and meet his gaze. “What’s that?”

  “Made love as a mortal.” He breathed the words against her stomach. Between kisses and caresses, he asked, “Do you suppose you could help me? Be my first? My only? My till-death-do-we-part?”

  “Keenan . . .”

  He kissed his way up her stomach and chest until he was stretched out on top of her. “I will love you every minute of every day of my life.”

  Tenderness they’d shared before; passion they’d shared before; but the desperation she felt was new. His words broke her heart. “I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed. “We just—”

  “I’m here with you in your bed, Donia. Neither of us died today.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Make love with me?”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “Unless you want to wait until after the wedding . . .”

  More tears slipped from the corners of her eyes even as a small laugh escaped her lips. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “No.”

  He looked nervous for a moment. “But you are going to marry me, aren’t you, Donia?”

  “I am,” she promised. “But I don’t really want to wait until after the wedding. You already have my vow. You had it years ago when I promised you forever alongside a hawthorn bush.”

  “And you have mine. I’m yours for as long as I live. Only yours. My vow on it.” He lowered his lips to hers, and they celebrated the life, the moment, the time they had together.

  Chapter 41

  As Aislinn and Seth reached the parts of Huntsdale untouched by the violence of the day, the Summer Guards stepped away. They looked at Aislinn expectantly. One of them, a Summer Girl Seth had never seen looking anything other than giddy, nodded. “We will handle what remains to be done here.”

  “Run with me, Seth.” Aislinn squeezed his hand in hers, and then before the next breath, she took off.

  Unlike when he was mortal, Seth could run without holding on to her now, but he would hold on to her forever if he could. So he held tightly to her hand, and together they sped through the snow-covered streets of Huntsdale.

  Once they crossed the threshold of the area where Summer held dominion, more rowan guards stood waiting. They looked at her with a new intensity, and Seth knew that the question that had stood between them was about to be answered for better or worse.

  Faeries were filtering into the park around them. As they passed Aislinn, many of them touched her, a brief brush of fingertips over her arm or her hair. They didn’t speak, but their expressions relaxed at the sight of her.

  Aislinn kept hold of his hand, but with her free hand, she motioned for him to wait. “You’ve kept secrets from me.”

  “Only one,” Seth said.

  “You see the future.”

  “Yeah.” Seth gave her a wry smile. “But not the parts I wanted to see.”

  The Summer Queen looked up at the sky, and a warm rain shower began. The Summer Court faeries raised their arms and let the rain wash away the dirt and blood from their skin. Flowers and grass grew in vibrant waves of color across the ground at the Summer Queen’s feet. Her clothes were clinging to her body, and her hair was hanging in wet tendrils.

  Like a pagan goddess.

  As faeries began to dance slowly, she looked not at Seth, but at her court. “I told you we would revel once the danger was past. We are here, alive, and your fallen family would not want tears.”

  A faery queen.

  “How do we remember?” Aislinn called.

  The faeries around them caught hands, entangled arms and legs, and watched their queen. They answered:

  “In joy.”

  “In living.”

  “In celebrating.”

  Aislinn sighed, and the heat of Summer rolled out over the park. “Rejoice as Summer should.” She smiled, and rainbows arced over the assembled fey. “Chase away sorrow by living.”

  Then she turned to Seth and added, “Celebrate.”

  After the horrors of the past days, the fight with Bananach, the time in Faerie, being caged by his friend, seeing—and feeling—the loss of so many faeries, he wanted the joy that the Summer Court was allowing themselves. Drenched faeries cavorted around them, almost frantic in their revelry, as if they were taking pleasure for themselves and for their fallen brethren.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

  And Seth caught her hand in his again. “Yes.”

  Vaguely, he was aware that summer fey were cheering, but it seemed distant. Everything was distant, except for the faery holding his hand.

  My reason. My everything.

  Part of him wanted her to say the words, but the rest of him couldn’t care less. If he had to let her go tomorrow, he would, but tonight she was his. Silently, he followed her away from her faeries, across the street, and to the loft.

  Aislinn opened the door to the building. “Be welcome in my home, Seth.”

  He stilled. “Pretty formal.”

  “Things have changed.” She smiled enigmatically and walked inside.

  He reached out to grab Aislinn’s hand again, but as he did so, she was already at the top of the first flight of stairs.

  She leaned over the railing and smiled. “You’re awfully far away.”

  Vines raced along the railing and burst into flower. Lilac petals rained down all around him as he stared up at her.

  “Once you asked me to stop running so you could catch me,” she said. “Do you remember?”

  “You were mortal then.” He started up the stairs, not running, but skipping stairs as he went.

  She watched him. “So were you.”

  “And now?” He was only a few steps away from her.

  She laughed and ran up the second flight of stairs.

  Seth followed, not as fast as she was, but fast enough that she hadn’t opened the door yet. He put a hand flat on the door and leaned close to her. “So am I to chase you, Ash?”

  “When I was mortal, you told me that you’d waited for me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Vines threaded down from her hair and twisted behind him. “Lately, I’ve been the one waiting.”

  “Losing you would destroy me.” He breathed the words against her neck. He’d thought about her while he was Niall’s prisoner, thought about never holding her in his arms again. “But I love you, and tonight I need—”

  “Ask me. Ask me to choose.”

  “Tonight, it doesn’t have to matter. I’m here either way.” Seth didn’t want to speak his fears; when he’d thought he would never see her again,
he couldn’t remember why he’d wasted the nights they could’ve had.

  “Ask me, Seth,” she urged.

  And he didn’t need to ask the question. He saw that in her eyes, felt it in the way she was wrapped around him. Here. Now. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her the way he had when they first fell in love. When he pulled back, he asked, “And the Summer King?”

  “There is no Summer King.” Aislinn reached behind her and opened the door. “He gave up his court.”

  “He . . . gave it up?” Seth echoed. Of all the things he’d thought she might have told him, Keenan giving up his court wasn’t anywhere on the list. “He . . . How? When? Why?”

  “When I told him that I’d made my choice, he left.” Aislinn looked at Seth. “We both want to be with the ones we love.”

  He’d imagined hearing that she was truly his, dreamed of it, but in that moment, all he could do was kiss her. Seth lifted her into his arms and crossed the threshold from the hallway into the loft with her.

  When he lowered her feet to the floor, she backed away, out of his arms, out of reach. “The Summer Court is strongest when its regent is happy. Do you know what makes me happy?”

  When he tried to step forward, vines tangled around his legs. He glanced down at them.

  She waited for him to look at her and said, “You make me happy, Seth. Always. Only you. For eternity.”

  Seth pulled free of the vines that twisted around his ankles as Aislinn laughed and ran from the room.

  Faeries chase.

  He caught her in the hallway, and she stayed still long enough for him to kiss her breathless before she twisted away again, slipping from his grasp as if she was sunlight darting away.

  “Catch me, Seth,” she invited.

  He paused.

  “Faeries chase,” he said, and then, with a flirtatious smile, he turned away, but before he could take a second step, she was behind him, arms around him, lips pressed against his neck.

  “I seem caught,” he murmured.

  The Summer Queen whispered, “Me too.”

  And they fell together into the bed of flowers that now covered the floor.