Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

Aislinn considered rebuking Tavish for not telling her that news the moment he came into the study, but it was of little use to do so: he would only remind her that court matters were her first priority. His withholding that information for the few moments they’d discussed Quinn was negligible. It had to be this way.

Court before everything. Before everyone. Before myself.

“You learned this when?”

“That Seth was safe? Today.” Tavish paused to let her know he was weighing the degree of truth he would offer. “That there was conflict? Two days ago.”

Before she could speak, he continued, “You are my queen, and my job is to advise and protect you. If anything could have been served by telling you sooner, I would’ve done so. I know he was in the conflict with Bananach, and that there were injuries and deaths.”

Aislinn’s heartbeat faltered. “Who?”

“A halfling the Dark Court protected, the Hound-tattooist’s sister, was killed.”

She thought about the girls, their seemingly endless energy, and felt grief wash over her at the thought of either of them being gone. “Was it Ani or Tish?”

“Tish,” he said.

“Poor Rabbit!” Even as she spoke, Aislinn’s thoughts flew to her own family. If Grams were injured in the impending violence, Aislinn wasn’t sure how she’d function at all. “Send Grams away. With guards.”

Tavish nodded. “A wise decision.”

“I need to know she’s safe and out of Bananach’s reach.” Aislinn crossed her arms, hugging herself to keep from trembling. “Send her on a cruise, so she’s moving around. Somewhere as warm as possible.”

Tavish nodded. “There is talk of another death . . . not quite complete. My sources in the Dark Court are not as forthcoming as I’d like, but it is my understanding that Irial has been injured.”

“Irial?”

Tavish nodded once. “The details beyond that are not available. Yet. It does not bode well. If Irial is . . . gone, Niall will not cope well.”

“I don’t understand.” Aislinn disliked admitting ignorance, but there were times that doing so was essential. Tavish was her advisor, and he’d lived longer than she could yet fathom. His ability to explain the long histories of the faeries she had only just met was one of his many valuable skills.

Expression inscrutable, Tavish began, “You know that Niall and Irial have a history?”

He paused, and she nodded.

Tavish continued, “Niall has held on to his anger at

Irial’s deceits and betrayals for centuries—and rightly so—but becoming a regent makes one see the challenges that might motivate choices that otherwise appear cruel.” Her advisor paused again and gave her a pointed look.

“Some faeries,” he continued, “don’t realize the complexities of ruling as quickly as you have, my Queen. Niall is stubborn, not nearly as willing to listen to advice as a regent needs to be . . . unless he hears it from Irial. The arrangement they’ve settled on has made the former Dark King the advisor to the new king; it is unprecedented.”

Aislinn was trying to make sense of the nuances Tavish wasn’t explaining. “So Irial advises Niall, and they’re . . . what?”

“Irial has moved back into his home . . . with the new Dark King,” Tavish said.

“Right,” she drawled. “You live here. So?”

Her advisor lowered his gaze. “With all due respect, my Queen, I have no amorous intentions toward you. I am advisor to the Summer Court. I advised Keenan’s father, Miach; Keenan; and before them, I guarded Miach’s father.”

She smothered a laugh at Tavish’s pursed lips.

“After a millennium of discord, Niall and Irial have found a sort of peace together,” Tavish added.

“And now Irial’s injured. Dying, perhaps.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh.

“Aside from advising Niall, Irial has been tending to some of the less palatable Dark Court businesses as well. Niall, for all of his recent changes, is not as cruel as the Dark King sometimes must be. Irial has fewer . . . restrictions,” Tavish said in a very quiet voice.

“This just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”