A full score of Ly Ergs filed into the house. Other faeries, some Ani did not recognize, followed.
Devlin stepped forward. “Do not do this.”
None of Bananach’s faeries attacked, but they had spread out so that the exits were blocked. They waited—for Bananach to act or speak. Her faeries weren’t strong enough to overcome all of the fighters in the room, but they were numerous enough that there would be injuries.
Silently, Ani slid out a sgian dubh and handed it to her brother. Beside her, Seth had a short sword and several of his own knives. She pulled out one of the holy irons; her other sgian dubh was in her ankle holster.
As Bananach advanced into the house, Irial continued to move so that Ani was directly behind him; Niall did the same with Seth. Gabriel positioned himself so he was behind Devlin, but still in front of both Niall and Irial.
Devlin took another step forward, away from them, closer to War. “Talk to me. We can talk, can’t we?”
She lifted a bone knife and slashed open his arm dispassionately—muscles severed and flesh ravaged. “You were nothing more than an idea Reason had, but without my pulse… without me, you were lifeless.”
He grabbed her wrist with his other hand.
Bananach reached out and pressed her fingers into the wound. “I think I want that pulse, that blood, my blood, back now.”
“If you give your word that Ani will be untouched, I will give it to you freely.” Devlin was motionless as she ripped open his skin. “Sister, please, spare Ani.”
“Stop,” Bananach screeched. Her hand was still dug into his bleeding arm. “I must do as I must. Seth was never meant to live. The Hound didn’t do as she was told, but there are choices. There are always choices, Brother.”
She turned her gaze to Ani. “Come to me, little Hound, and I’ll spare them. Two lives I will give you. Your choice.” Bananach’s wings opened wide, and the shadows in the room shivered at the sight. “Would you save your king? Your lover? Your father? Two lives if you give me yours.”
Ani stepped up between her former king and her father. Her blade was unsheathed, but no one there—including Bananach—thought that a Hound with a blade was strong enough to be a threat to War.
“Spare all of their lives,” Ani said. “I’ll give you—”
“You can have my life,” Devlin interrupted. He put himself back in front of Bananach. “You can have my allegiance if you stop this.”
“You. You betrayed me. You took her, hid her. Why?” Bananach looked devastated. “You were my own. Our child…” She lunged at Ani with two bone knives—one in each hand now—as she spoke.
Irial shoved Ani to the side, and Bananach drove both knives hilt-deep into his stomach. Instead of falling, though, he stayed upright between Ani and Bananach, keeping his body as a barrier to reaching Ani.
“Iri!” Ani screamed. She wanted to go around him, to launch herself at the raven-faery, but to do so belittled the sacrifice Irial had made. He’d taken the wound that was to be hers, and she wasn’t about to ignore that in order to satisfy her own rage.
Not now at least.
Devlin grabbed Bananach and pulled her away from Irial and Ani. She didn’t resist as he held her to him. Instead, she released the knives, sliding her hands over the white bone and letting Irial’s blood coat it.
Only then did Irial move. Now that Bananach was contained, he stepped backward. Niall caught him and lowered him to the ground at Ani’s side. Irial’s characteristic grace wa
s absent; instead, he moved with almost mortal clumsiness as he tried not to jar the blades that pierced his abdomen.
The abyss-guardians that clung to both the former Dark King and the current one suddenly stood like warriors in the room. Ani had never seen so many of the shadowy figures. The entire room seemed populated with them. Steady flames of darkness formed an impenetrable wall of shadows encircling the Dark Kings—and Ani.
War smiled at them from the other side of the black wall, and behind her, Devlin, Seth, and Gabriel fought the Ly Ergs.
Inside their shadow fortress, Niall knelt beside Irial and pulled back the shredded shirt that covered Irial’s wounds. “Iri…” He looked like he was in as much pain as Irial.
“Hush.” Irial reached down and yanked out the first knife. Blood spurted from the wound, and Irial let out a small grunt of pain.
“Hold on for—” Niall started, but Irial had already taken hold of the second one and pulled it free as well.
In Irial’s hand was a bloodied hilt: the blade itself was missing.
“Left hand for poison. Not solid now.” Irial turned his head and smiled at Ani. “Not your fault, pup.”
“Iri…” She dropped to the floor. “We need… you can’t…”