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“Yours?” Aislinn asked Tavish.
Her guard shook his head.
“Land king vow,” the faery said, and then it continued conducting the other water fey.
“Oh.” Aislinn shook her head. Between the Hounds, the rowan, the Dark Court, and now the water fey, the fighting had shifted to favor the united courts. Unfortunately, that didn’t undo the fact that Donia was fallen—or that the faery who’d struck the Winter Queen was still standing.
The Hounds who had pushed the fight outside the warehouse were now returning—in part, it appeared, because of the reduction in the number of their opponents. The water fey didn’t fight: they simply took prisoners and left.
Smaller areas of fighting continued, but the forces who opposed Bananach’s fey were obviously going to prevail.
That leaves Bananach.
“I can either help Niall or leave the wall in place,” Aislinn said softly. “Any advice?”
“He is not winning, and the one who would seal the wall appears to be unable to repair it,” Tavish said. “If you can help him, do it. We are running out of options.”
The Summer Queen exhaled, and the ice melted.
The flood of it rolled through the warehouse. The water fey pulled it to them, lifting it until a section of the room was underwater. It had the effect of a giant, wall-less aquarium. Which is impossible. The faeries that she had seen blended into the water. Some of the land faeries tried to swim in the vertical river, but it was futile.
And then, the water itself—and the whole of those contained within it—exited the warehouse in a rush.
Aislinn was left in a much less crowded warehouse. Hounds and rowan formed a line of defense behind Aislinn, and in front of her, Niall and Bananach fought on.
“Ash,” Niall said. The Dark King was bleeding from more places than Aislinn could count, but he’d cut through the faeries and then stood against War while the rest of them barely made it to his side.
Or fell when we got here.
The Summer Queen took a steadying breath.
I would offer mercy if I could.
Summer is not made for murder.
But even as she reminded herself of those things, she knew too that Summer was deadly. Droughts and fires, storms and floods, mud slides and parched bodies—those were the domain of Summer as well.
We are past the point of mercy.
The Summer Queen concentrated the heat that radiated through her body and
sent it as a single beam toward Bananach. The raven-faery couldn’t knock away the sunlight, although she did lift a shadow-made shield. Some of the sunlight was absorbed by the shadows, but enough of it pushed through that it charred flesh and feathers.
Bananach glanced at Aislinn and snapped her beak-mouth in a wordless threat.
While she was turned away, Niall slashed at her with a short sgian dubh. Fresh blood dripped down Bananach’s arm. Feathers clung to the wound.
“Your forces are defeated,” Aislinn said.
“Not all,” War crowed. “Not me. Snow is done. He”—she bashed Niall over the head with the shadow shield—“is faltering more by the moment.”
“I am not faltering,” Aislinn said softly. “I’ve energy to spare.”
The derision in Bananach’s eyes would’ve been daunting once—had been daunting—but Aislinn wasn’t a mortal, wasn’t an unsure queen, wasn’t anything to be daunted. She was the Summer Queen, the first faery regent in almost a millennium to be fully in possession of the strength that begged to escape her body now.
“Niall, shield. Now.”
And without waiting but a moment, she exhaled sunlight; she pushed it from her skin; she sent it forward in a solar flare that set Bananach on fire.
