Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

“No,” Far Dorcha said.

In the next heartbeat, Niall stood looking down at his own hand—and the knife in it. Between the words he’d heard and the moment he was now in, he’d shoved his knife hilt-deep into Far Dorcha’s stomach. He didn’t realize that he’d even moved. The memory of doing so was absent, but the knife and the hand were his own.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that. It has never helped.” Far Dorcha reached down and covered Niall’s hand with his own. He squeezed so that he held Niall’s hand to the hilt and then tugged both the hand and the knife away from his body.

“What . . .” Niall looked at the knife in his hand; he let go, and it fell to the floor with a clatter.

“You ruined a perfectly fine shirt.” Far Dorcha motioned with his fingers in a come-here gesture. “Give over.”

“Give what over?” Niall blinked and realized he was now squeezing Far Dorcha’s throat. He looked at his hand and then back at Far Dorcha. Carefully, he released his grasp. “What . . . what happened?”

“Give me your shirt.” Far Dorcha peeled off his ripped shirt. “You ruined this one.”

Niall shook his head. “You’re a madman.”

Far Dorcha snorted. “You stabbed Death, child, so I wouldn’t be throwing around any slurs just now.” He tossed his shirt at Niall, who caught it reflexively. “It’s cold.”

Niall shucked off his coat. Then, he yanked his shirt over his head and threw it onto the ground at Far Dorcha’s feet. “Fine.”

Far Dorcha looked down at the shirt and then back up at Niall. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“I’m the Dark King.” Niall’s voice was steady. Despite the oddity of the time gaps, he was not going to show his fear.

Especially because of it.

“And?”

“And I’m asking you to help me.”

“The dead queen”—Far Dorcha frowned—“the last dead one. Beira. She asked too.”

Seth started, “Niall—”

“No!” Far Dorcha interrupted. “You will stay silent unless you want to cross me. I’ve met your beloved. I doubt you’d like me to visit her house or your mother’s.” Then he told Niall, “The dead Winter Queen asked for un-dying. She wanted me to return the Summer King she’d killed. I tell you what I told her: I cannot.”

“There has to be a way,” Niall pleaded. “I feel a . . . madness threatening. My mind . . . Please?”

Far Dorcha lifted Niall’s shirt from the ground and shook it. “There are rules, even for fey. The dead king is not within my reach.”

The Dark King grabbed Far Dorcha’s throat. “You’re Death. You can . . . help.”

“I will not.” Far Dorcha shoved the Dark King. “Accosting me again would be unwise. You know the rules. The dead cannot reveal themselves to the living, and the living cannot compel the dead—including death-fey—to obey them.”

Then, the Dark Man narrowed his gaze. “And no matter what foolish games you play here, you cannot break the rules unless you want the one you protect to die. You got into this situation; you will have to deal with it.”

“What?” Niall blinked. “What situation?”

Instead of answering, Far Dorcha pulled on Niall’s shirt and smoothed a hand over the fabric. “

Very nice.”

Then he turned and sauntered away.

Chapter 24

Donia stepped into the street outside the Summer regents’ building and paused. I can do this. I can lead my court, and I can be an ally to Keenan’s court. The alternatives all seemed to lead to violence. We can work together. The world they knew was unstable, but they were not their predecessors. Going into the Summer Court and not reacting with anger proved that. That doesn’t mean I will stay there a moment longer than I must. Standing in the home he shared with Aislinn and trying not to think about them together was more than she was ready to handle. She didn’t wait for guards to arrive, but Sasha had already appeared and now loped alongside Donia. Most of the time, the wolf didn’t follow anyone’s whim but his own, and if he thought she should be accompanied, she would be.

As Donia walked, she thought about the past, the moments she and Keenan were at odds, and the times they were close. He’d never wanted to hurt her, had never wanted to hurt any of the girls who’d tried to love him. Instead, he’d assigned guards, and of course, given Sasha to the first Winter Girl. Once, a long time ago, Donia had thought the unnaturally large wolf was a part of the Summer Court. He’d been there when she lifted the Winter Queen’s staff, had helped her when she stumbled that first day.