Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

Aislinn sat back in the vine-wrought throne and told her court, “I want to celebrate, to dance with you, to lose ourselves in weeks of revelry, but the king-no-more has made a sacrifice in order to give us the strength to stand with the Cold and the Darkness. Once we find a way to contain War, I promise you we will celebrate as I want to right now.”

Her faeries smiled and cheered.

“The park is safe. Bananach cannot enter it without my consent. No one can,” Aislinn assured them. “You may stay in the park or you can stay in the Summer Court’s building, but without my leave, you may not go anywhere else. Dance or rest, make love or make music, but remain within the space where you are safe.”

Despite the restrictions she’d just imposed—or maybe because they were summer fey—her faeries seemed perfectly content with her command. They are. She felt tendrils of connection to each of them, and she knew they weren’t feigning their cooperation. They trusted her and her judgment.

Please don’t let me fail them.

Chapter 30

“I am not taking care of the court.” Niall straightened the sheet that he’d draped over Irial. “It’s better today, but I can’t remember all of the minutes.”

On the bed in front of him, Irial’s body was immobile. They were alone. A Hound guarded the door, but like the other guards, he was forbidden to enter the room. Aside from Niall and Gabriel, no one had entered the room since Irial had died. The body hadn’t changed. It looked as though Irial only slept, but when Niall touched his arm, the flesh was cold.

“I am not sure if I’m glad that you aren’t here to see my descent into madness. I still dream of you. The first time I left you, I dreamed of you—memories of things.” Niall laughed bitterly. “Apparently, I am not any better at losing you this time. Who would’ve guessed?”

Ink-black tears dripped onto the corpse as Niall kissed Irial’s forehead. “I’ll be home later.”

Then the Dark King le

ft the house and went to the warehouse. Faeries watched his approach with a degree of fear that seemed out of character. They see my madness. They fear me. Because Irial is dead. Niall tried to smile encouragingly at them, but the emotion that rolled off of many of them was still fear.

“Go. Tonight, I want to be alone with the betrayer.” He looked at each of the guards that lingered outside the warehouse. “Tell all of them. As your king, I order you to seek your pleasures among whatever faeries you want. Nourish yourselves. I need you all to be at your strongest.”

Inside the warehouse, Niall repeated his order, and glee spread through the Dark Court faeries. As the Dark King looked on his rejoicing faeries, a voice in his memories trickled to the forefront.

I am not depraved; I do not allow unforgivable acts.

Niall stopped in the middle of the warehouse, lifted his voice, and added, “Take pleasure only with the willing, but revel in fights, revel in debauchery as you mourn your dead king.”

Once they left, Niall walked over to the cage suspended in the middle of the room and stared at the betrayer.

Seth killed Irial.

The Dark King paced away. He stopped in front of one of the fires that burned in the warehouse. It did little to chase away the chill that seemed to have filled him since Irial died. Angrily, he stirred the embers with a fire poker, but the cold didn’t abate.

“You could have saved Iri. Could’ve saved me from this”—Niall tossed the poker onto the ground and looked up at Seth—“madness that threatens me.”

As Niall stared up at the cage, Seth wondered if their friendship would be the death of him.

“We are friends, Niall. Let me out,” Seth said quietly.

Unfortunately, Niall was more Dark King than faery friend in the moment. Muttering quietly to himself, he paced the empty warehouse, then paused and looked at Seth.

He is grieving and unbalanced.

“Have I become as mad as Bananach?” Niall asked.

Inside his prison, Seth chose not to answer that particular question, so Niall kicked the iron bar that held the cage’s chain. The cage plummeted to the ground. “Tell me, Seer. Am I a madman?”

Seth righted himself from the floor, where he’d fallen as the cage dropped. “Caging your friends isn’t high on the sane list.”

“I don’t cage friends.” Niall grabbed the fire poker from the ground and pointed it at Seth. “You misled me, infiltrated my court—”

“Okay, now you sound crazy.” Seth stretched and looked around the dimly lit room. “What time is it anyway? We could go out. Grab some breakfast or dinner. Then you could catch a much-needed nap. What do you say?”

“You killed Irial.”