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Yet another Hound replied, Can’t tell. Not moving. Think he’s alive, though.
If he is dead, it’s recent, said the first Hound.
Despite the flurry of reports that joined these in her head, Chela’s outward expression was implacable. She faced War, who had apparently staged a coup.
Straight up the center, Alba.
Chela’s steed stalked toward the raven-faery.
“Gabriela!” Bananach crooned. “Have you come to show your support of your queen?”
Chela stared directly at Bananach. “I am Chela, mate to the Gabriel, second-in-command of this Hunt.”
“You are Gabriela, and I am the Dark Queen . . . and this”—Bananach opened her arms wide—“is my court.”
“No. There is no Dark Queen,” Chela ground out.
Underneath her, Alba growled his accord. The assembled faeries—the whole mutinous lot of them—shifted nervously as other steeds and Hounds echoed Alba’s growl.
“Yet here I am.” Bananach paused as if confused. “No, I’m sure of it. I am the queen here, and I could use the Hunt. As I killed him—the last Gabriel—that would be your decision, Gabriela.”
Gabriel is dead. My mate. Chela’s hand tightened on the hilt of the first sword her mate had given her. She drew it from the scabbard with a slide of metal on metal.
Draw weapons, she demanded.
As the Hunt complied, Chela lifted her voice and her sword: “The Hunt, with Gabriel at the helm or with me, will stand with the Dark King. If you are here with this imposter”—Chela did not look at the assembled fey, but instead sneered at Bananach—“you are declared enemy to the Hunt.”
“You challenge me, whelp?” Bananach tilted her head to one side and then to the other as if studying Chela.
“Do you declare yourself queen of this court?”
“I do,” Bananach said.
“Then the Hunt challenges you.” Chela added silently to her Hunt, On my word . . . Ready . . .
“Fair warning,” Chela said aloud. “The Hunt comes here as sworn support of the rightful regent of the Dark Court. Stand against us, and be found our enemy.”
She focused on each of them, marking their faces and scents in her mind.
Know them. Remember them, she told the Hunt. They stood with the one who killed our Gabriel, who killed his daughter, who killed Irial. No mercy. No survivors.
The bemused expression on Bananach’s face was unfaltering. She looked only at Chela, but she told the assembled traitors, “You’ve sworn fealty to me, and I’ve spoken War. They stand with our enemies, and as your queen, I order you: kill them all.”
Now, Chela growled to her Hunt.
Then Bananach launched herself at Chela in a blur of feathers and talons, and there were no more words.
Hounds and faeries and steeds filled the Dark Court’s warehouse with screams and blood. Bodies crashed together in a fight that had been too long in coming.
Send the messengers for the faery courts. This is the end.
Chapter 34
Keenan had just listened to Niall and Irial explain that because of Faerie being closed they could—possibly—kill Bananach. Everyone knew that Bananach wasn’t going to stop, but killing her on the basis of the new seer’s word . . . that was a bit of a leap.
“I’m not sure we can kill her. She’s strong,” Irial pointed out. “She killed me and cut through Devlin like he was untrained. We’ve got us, the Hounds, and those we can round up from the other courts.”
“Could we contain her?” Keenan asked.
