Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

She flopped down on the sofa and patted the cushion. “Sit with me?”

With a small frown, Tavish sat in a chair across from her.

Aislinn grinned at him. “You know, for a Summer faery, you are awfully proper.”

“Indeed,” Tavish said. “Is that on the agenda for our meeting? My propriety? Shall I add ‘frolic more’ to the tasks for my week?”

“No. . . . I met Far Dorcha. I’m sure the guards already told you.” She paused, and Tavish nodded. “Right,” she continued. “I need the girls to stay in the loft. Whichever fey have . . . defected are on their own. Those who are mine stay here.”

?

??That is wise.”

Aislinn took a steadying breath. “I need to find out where Keenan is. If he’s not home, I’m going into war without him . . . which is not ideal. Someone knows where he is.”

“I do not, my Queen. I give you my word that I will find out, though.” Tavish’s restrained facade slipped, and she saw the faery-cruel expression as he asked, “Are there limits to the methods?”

At that, she faltered. “Don’t ask me to be a monster.”

Affectionately, he reached out and squeezed her forearm. “You are a faery regent, Aislinn, and we are fast approaching war. Monstrosity will be called for. How far will you go to protect your court?”

Aislinn winced—as much because of the truth as because she had to admit it aloud. “As far as I must. The longer I am this”—she gestured at herself—“the harder it is to remember how much I loathed what he did to me. He took away my mortality, Tavish. I hated him. I hated all of you. . . .”

“And now?”

“I hate any who threatens my court.” She sighed. It seemed foolish, but her first lesson in being a faery regent had been to trust her instincts. She hoped that she was not erring as she said, “Speaking of, I don’t like Quinn’s arrogance. He questions me, not to help, but . . . I don’t know his game. He has one, though.”

“He is not who I would’ve picked to replace my former co-advisor.” Tavish’s expression was unreadable.

Pretending a self-assurance that she rarely felt for more than a heartbeat, Aislinn said, “When Keenan returns, I want to fire Quinn.”

At that, Tavish’s lips quirked in a small smile. “For arrogance?”

“No.” Aislinn pulled her feet up and tucked them under her so that she was sitting cross-legged. “I’d have to cast out everyone if that were the charge.”

Tavish’s slight smile blossomed. “Present company excluded, I’m sure.”

For a moment, Aislinn peered at him. “I think you just made a joke.”

“I am not as solemn as you’d think, my Queen.” Tavish

smoothed a hand over one of his already impeccable sleeves. “I am merely as solemn as I need to be to protect my regent.”

With a comfort she didn’t think she’d ever felt before, she told him, “I don’t think you’re truly solemn, Tavish. If you were, you’d be in a different court. You belong to Summer. I’m sure of that. I can feel how strongly tied you are to my court, to me. You’re mine, Tavish. I have no doubt with you.”

Her advisor rewarded her with a joyous look, and in the moment, she knew this was the side of him the Summer Girls saw. He was captivating in that faery way that made her think of the old stories where mortals believed them gods. He had uncharacteristically dark eyes, and his hair was silver—not silvered as mortals’ hair turns with age, but true silver. It was, like Keenan’s copper-colored hair, a metallic hue that made clear that he was very much not mortal. She’d never seen his hair unbound; it was kept in a braid of sorts that stretched down his back. The braid bared part of a small black sun tattoo on the side of his throat. That tattoo stood out in a mostly undecorated court. Of course, so, too, did his High Court reserve and his Dark Court eyes. Those eyes were watching her, so she said what she’d wanted to: “I don’t trust Quinn.”

“I spoke against his selection.” Tavish’s gaze was focused on her, but it was—as it had been increasingly in the past few months—an approving look he gave her. “My king made the choice.”

“Well, your king isn’t here. Until I decide otherwise, watch Quinn. No . . . extreme measures yet, but keep a close eye on him. Who he talks to. When. Everything.” Aislinn knew worry was in her voice, but unlike with the rest of the court, she didn’t need to hide that from Tavish. With her advisor, she could be unguarded. It was a welcome honesty. She twisted her hands together. “Both Seth and Keenan could be . . . in who knows what sort of danger, and neither of them have the sense to tell me where

they are.”

Tavish moved to sit beside her. “They will both return, Aislinn.”

“What if Ba—”

“She would’ve told us had she killed them.” Tavish reached out and smoothed back her hair in an oddly paternal gesture. “Their deaths would be of more use to her if you knew of them. They are alive. Bananach attacked Dark Court fey. Seth was there, and he left with the High Queen’s brother.”