Darkest Mercy

Chapter 10

Gabriel slammed the door behind the departing death-fey. “No one is to open the door. Was I not clear?”

The Hunt scattered as he turned around and snarled at them.

“The king . . . both of them . . . need to be guarded, and letting them in will not help anyone.” He looked from Hound to Hound. “Niall needs a little time to—” The door chime sounded as the gargoyle on the outside of the door bit someone.

Gabriel spun around and yanked the door open again. “What?”

But it was not the death-fey; instead, one of the Winter Queen’s Scrimshaw Sisters stood on the step. She curtsied. “The Winter Queen—”

“King’s not receiving visitors,” Gabriel cut her off. He shoved the door, but the implacable faery put a hand out and stopped it from closing.

“The Winter Queen,” she repeated, “seeks audience with one of the Hunt.”

Then the faery turned and walked away as if staring into the face of the Hunt had not been terrifying at all. Gabriel grinned for a moment as he closed the door, but as he walked through the darkened house and into the room where the Dark King paced restlessly beside Irial’s deathbed, his grin vanished.

“Niall?”

The Dark King looked at him, and for a moment, there was no recognition in Niall’s eyes. He stared at Gabriel, but did not speak or indicate awareness in any way. Then, the shadows in the king’s eyes flickered, and Niall said, “I am awake now, right?”

“You are.”

“I don’t want to be,” Niall rasped.

“I know.” Gabriel had thought about his options: he couldn’t bring Sorcha here; Keenan was still away from Huntsdale; that left Aislinn and Donia. The Summer Queen wasn’t as powerful as the Winter Queen, and Niall had unpredictable reactions to her. Donia, on the other hand, wanted to talk to a Hound and was friend to the Dark King. Hoping his emotions were hidden, Gabriel told Niall, “My Hounds are here. I’ve called in others we trust, Niall. We’ve hired solitaries whose loyalty can be bought.”

“Good.” Niall wasn’t looking at Gabriel now; his attention was once more on Irial. “That’s good.”

“I can get more aid.” Gabriel stepped over to stand beside the king he’d served for centuries and the grieving king he’d sworn to protect at cost of his own life. “I can bring help.”

Niall glanced at Gabriel. “Aid? Healers?”

Gabriel weighed the words he needed; as the head of the Hunt, he was not used to needing to twist truth. The faery he sought was not a healer, but a regent who could hopefully help his king. Gabriel looked at Niall and said, “I think I can get aid for my king.”

Niall nodded. “Yes. The other healers were wrong. They had to be.” The Dark King motioned to the far corner, where a faery was sprawled motionless. “That one said Irial was past saving.”

“Chela will keep you safe while I go,” Gabriel assured Niall, but the Dark King had already turned away.

Silently, Gabriel gathered the healer, gave orders to his second-in-command, and went to see the Winter Queen.