Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

Far Dorcha exhaled again, sending that sugar-sweet breath toward her in a prolonged sigh.

Aislinn turned her head to avoid inhaling.

Expression pensive, Far Dorcha looked past her. Then he said, “Some wounds take longer to kill. I should’ve been summoned. Your king has questions to answer, Summer Queen.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to mention that to him.” She motioned to the street. “I agreed to your escorting me to my door—”

“Another day,” Far Dorcha said absently, and with as little sound as he’d made when he arrived, he left.

The temper she couldn’t fully repress flared to life as Aislinn strode through the cluster of her guards, letting them scurry to reorganize themselves as they escorted her.

By the time she reached the loft that was now her home, her temper had faded and clarity struck her: there must be a reason the head of the death-fey was in Huntsdale—and she couldn’t think of any reasons that didn’t worry her.

Who has died? Will die? Her mind swirled with thoughts of Seth and Keenan, of her court, of faeries who weren’t hers but whom she’d still mourn. Seth and Keenan are away. It’s not them. Right? Where are they?

She raced up the stairs, shoved open the door, and called, “Tavish! I need advice. Now.”

Instead of her trusted advisor, Quinn came into the main room. “Tavish is with the Summer Girls, but I’m here.”

The birds that used to be Keenan’s swooped around manically as Aislinn’s temper spiked again. “I need answers.”

Quinn ducked as one of the cockatiels flew dangerously close to his ear. He was wise enough not to swipe at the bird, but the scowl he flashed it wasn’t fleeting enough for her to miss. “Can I help?”

Aislinn extended her arm for the offending bird. It settled on her wrist and walked sideways up to her shoulder. She wasn’t going to tell Quinn about her encounter with Death, but there were other subjects that he could address. Be assertive. She’d been patient for almost six months, waiting for the Summer King to return to his court. She’d waited for Seth while he was in Faerie. Is Keenan hiding in Faerie now? Is that where Seth is again too? Seth had disappeared several days ago, and given that he had been claimed as a child to the High Queen, Aislinn suspected his disappearance was tied to her. Keenan might not be close with Sorcha, but he’d had centuries of dealing with her. Did he go to Faerie for something too? The High Queen had answers, and had been at odds with her mad twin sister, Bananach, for centuries longer than Aislinn had lived, but she wasn’t coming to offer aid to any who now dealt with the strengthened War—and Aislinn didn’t expect her to do so. According to Keenan, the High Queen had kept herself withdrawn from the centuries of conflict between Winter and Summer. And I cannot ask her for insight because I can’t go to her. I can’t even go find out if my king or my . . . Seth . . . is with her.

“How is it that I’m not aware of how to enter Faerie?” Aislinn let her temper simmer in her voice and on her skin. “Where are the gates to Faerie?”

“My queen—”

“No,” she interrupted before he could begin another litany of the dangers of entering Faerie without the High Queen’s consent. “Everyone else seems to know how to enter Faerie. Seth knows. Niall knows. Keenan knows. Why do I not know?”

“If you’ll forgive the impertinence, my queen, the others are not new to being fey, aside from Seth, who is the Unchanging Queen’s. . . . She is fond of him.”

At the flash of light that sizzled from the Summer Queen’s skin, Quinn added hurriedly, “But in a different way than you are, my queen. She knows he is your . . .” Quinn’s words faded, and he ducked his head rather than try to finish that sentence.

What is Seth?

Once he’d been her friend; then, he’d been her everything. Then he’d become a faery, and she’d made some stupid mistakes. Now she wasn’t sure what he was. Which doesn’t mean Seth should take off without telling me. Aislinn scowled. Neither should’ve Keenan. Her king had walked out on her, left her in charge of a court with only half the strength of the regency, and she was trying her damnedest not to flounder too much.

Be assertive, she reminded herself. Maybe I should do so with Keenan and Seth too.

“Aislinn?” Quinn said her name cautiously.

“What?” She looked at him, only to realize that the room was filled with rainbows from the tiny rain shower and sunbursts that had begun while she was thinking. “Oh.”

The plants and the birds and the various creatures that lived in the stream they’d put in the room all thrived under these conditions, but Quinn looked a bit perturbed by his sopping clothes.

There’s a psycho faery who thrives on violence and has noticed Seth

and who took him to Faerie once already. My king has bailed. Oh, and Death is visiting.

She shook her head. “Send Tavish to me.”

Quinn tried to wipe the rain from his face surreptitiously. “For?”

The Summer Queen paused midway through turning away from Quinn and glanced back at him. “Excuse me?”

“Is there a message?” Quinn’s expression was the carefully bland one that she’d quickly learned to identify as a mask.