Darkest Mercy. Melissa Marr

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СКАЧАТЬ from touching Innis. “Which? The last Winter Queen or the Summer King? Beira or Miach?”

      “I do not remember.” Innis shrugged. “Your forms are all alike. It was pleasant.”

      Keenan stared out at the rolling waves before him. The shimmering surface was mirrored in the flesh of the faery beside him. It was an odd similarity. He had sunlight inside him, but he also had traits other than light. Innis was as if water had taken form.

      He glanced at the faery, and as he did so realized that Innis now faced him. They’d been side by side at the edge of a rock a moment before.

      “You moved . . . or something.” Keenan struggled not to back away from the water faery. “How?”

      “You looked at the water. I am the water, so now you look at me.” Innis stared at him as it spoke, and the faery’s proximity made the air taste like brine. “We do not want to be dead.”

      “Right.” Keenan let sunlight fill him, remind him what he was. “We don’t either.”

      “The flesh creatures?”

      “Yes. Faeries who live on the land.”

      “You speak for all of you?” Innis had his hand now. “On the not wanting to be dead?”

      “I think so.” Keenan forced the words to his lips. “I am the king of a court. The Summer Court. I want to be allies.”

      For the span of no more than six waves crashing, Innis was quiet. Then it said, “We have swallowed the sun. It does not shine after a while, and we left it on the sand then.” Innis sighed. “It faded.”

      “My father?” Keenan tried to clarify.

      “No. There were other summers.” Innis shrugged again. “We would not like the winged one here. Your War. It pollutes.”

      “So, you would be an ally? You would help stop her?” Keenan prompted.

      “I do not think drowning the bestia would be pleasure.” Innis stroked wet fingers over Keenan’s leg. “I believe I would enjoy seeing you drown, though.”

      “Oh.” Keenan felt a decidedly conflicted thrill of pride and surge of terror. I do not want to die. He forced more sunlight into his skin, trying to chase the clammy dampness away. “If I ever want to drown, I could . . . I would come here. Is that good?”

      Innis laughed and waves surged over the rock, covering them both, tearing Keenan’s breath away and filling his throat with salty water. He tried not to panic, but when he attempted to stand, to get his head above the water, hands wrapped around his neck. Lips pressed to his, and kelp slipped into his open mouth. His chest ached, and his eyes couldn’t focus.

      I could find you pleasurable, flesh creature. Innis’ words were in his mind as surely as its arms were around his neck and its tongue was in his mouth. I will be your ally. I will take the bestia into our world if she touches the waves. We will fight for you in exchange for an open vow. Yes?

      An open vow, he thought. The mutability of such a vow was reason enough to refuse, but the Summer Court needed powerful allies and he’d had no luck in his other attempts to negotiate with solitary fey. He nodded.

      The water receded then, leaving him sprawled on the rock, choking and gasping.

      Innis stood over him. Its body was neither solid nor fluid. It held a form, but the form was as a wave when it was above the ocean: water temporarily given the illusion of solidity.

      Once Keenan spat the water from his throat and mouth and had stopped gasping, he looked up.

      Innis leaned closer. “I will watch for the bestia, flesh creature. If the bestia makes you dead before I can truly drown you, I will be angered. Do not allow that. You will speak my name to the water when you need aid. In return—”

      “In return, my word that I will repay what service you offer in equal measure.” Keenan forced himself not to think about the dangers of such a vow. My court is not strong enough to defeat Bananach. Some dangers are unavoidable.

      The water faery nodded. “The terms are binding and accepted. I would have a token of faith to seal the vow.”

      A wall of water rushed toward them.

      “I do not want to drown today,” Keenan said.

      “Just a little,” Innis suggested.

      For a moment Keenan wondered at the possibility of not-living. It should not appeal to me. He’d stolen scores of girls’ mortality. He’d made them into faeries while everyone and everything they knew faded away; he’d convinced them to risk everything for him. To be my queen. To free me. He couldn’t have done anything differently. He’d had to find her, the mortal who would save them all from dying under the freezing anger of his mother. Now, he had to find a way to strengthen the court without pushing his queen further away, to make allies among faeries who had every reason to hate him, to find a way to love Donia without being with her, and once again try to do the impossible.

      A second wave swept over them, and Innis’ form surrounded him. He knew that he would not choose to die here, but knowing didn’t negate the pain in his lungs. He didn’t fight the waves. It would be so much easier. As the water filled his lungs, he wondered—not for the first time or even the fifty-first time—if they’d all be better off without him.

      He kicked toward the surface.

      It is a pleasure to drown you, my ally. Innis’ voice filled the water around him. Call and we will come to you.

      Chapter 3

      Donia exhaled a gust of frigid air as she watched Aislinn approach. The Summer Queen’s guards had stopped at a safe distance, and the queen herself came forward cautiously. She had her hands tucked into the pockets of a heavy woolen coat, and her almost-black hair was hidden under her hood.

      “Shall we walk?” Donia asked.

      Aislinn gestured to a path that led away from the same fountain where they’d once sat and talked. Back then, Aislinn was a mortal hiding her Sight. Back then, Donia was weaker. Those things had changed in such a short time. What hadn’t changed was that the actions of one faery, Keenan, both drew them together and kept them at odds.

      “I’d hoped he would . . .” Aislinn’s words faded, but she glanced at Donia.

      “No. He’s not contacted me. Nor you, I see. If he were gone, you’d feel it, Ash.” Donia kept the sting of envy from her voice with effort. “The rest of the court’s strength would leave him if he . . . died.”

      “But if he were hurt—”

      “He’s not,” Donia snapped. “He’d let us know. He’s either sulking or staying where it’s warmer or . . . who can know with him.”

      “You know. If you wanted to find him, I’m sure you could.”

      Donia chose not to address that particular truth. She did know him, and she’d heard rumors of his activities from those eager to curry her favor. That did not СКАЧАТЬ