Aislinn stood up. “That’s what you expected all along, isn’t it? Him to go away not long after I changed. You knew I’d feel like this toward you.”
“Mortals aren’t meant to love faeries.”
“So agreeing to my terms wasn’t any big deal, right? Seth and I will fall apart and you…you’d just…No.”
Keenan stared up at her, and she thought back to Denny’s comments on experience and age and admitted to herself that Denny had had a very good point. If Keenan didn’t let up, what would that mean for her? He’d spent most of nine hundred years romancing girl after girl. They all succumbed.
And none of them were his queen.
His look was sorrowful, but his words weren’t any gentler. “It’s better to love someone and know they go on to happiness than to destroy them. Cursing someone you love is not a kindness, Aislinn. I regretted it each time.”
“Seth and I are different. Just because Donia’s pushing you away doesn’t mean it can’t work for me. It could still work for you two. You can sort this out.”
“I wish you were right—or that you accepted that I am. Why do you think Don’s pushing me away, Ash? Why do you think Seth wants to be cursed? They see what you refuse to admit. You and I are inevitable.” Keenan’s smile was rueful. “I’m not wrong, and I won’t help you make a mistake like this.”
She all but ran from the room.
And like she had when she was still mortal, she needed the help of the faery who loved Keenan. Donia’s forgiving him for whatever mistake he made would convince him that love could make things right. Then maybe he’d help her. At the very least, he’d stop pursuing her if he had Donia’s love. Donia had to be with Keenan.
Everything will be fine once Donia takes him back.
The trip to Donia’s house was a blur. It wasn’t until Aislinn stood alongside a quiet street on the outskirts of town that she admitted how many kinds of fear she felt—not just of what would happen if Donia rejected Keenan for good, but of what would happen when Aislinn went inside the Winter Queen’s gorgeous Victorian estate. They had a tentative friendship, but that didn’t mean that Donia couldn’t be terrifying. Winter hurt, and Donia’s home was always Winter.
Winter fey moved soundlessly through a thorn-heavy garden; icy trees and sun-capped shrubs made the yard look out of place among its verdant neighbors. As Aislinn had walked down the street, she’d seen dogs lazing on stoops, a girl sunning herself in languid bliss, and more flowers than she’d seen growing outside in her entire life. Beira’s death and Keenan’s unbinding had brought a balance that was letting life flourish. But in this yard, the frost would never melt; mortals passing on the street would still look away. No one—mortal or fey—crossed the Winter Queen’s frigid lawn without her consent. Consent she’d denied Keenan. What am I doing here?
Keenan needed Donia; they loved each other, and Aislinn needed them to remember that. Once-mortals could love faeries.
As Aislinn crossed the yard, the frost-heavy grass thawed under her feet. Behind her, she heard the crackling as the ice re-formed instantly. This was Donia’s domain. It was where she was at her strongest. And where I am weakest. After centuries of Beira declaring it as her seat of power, this place existed both inside the lines of Faerie and in the mortal realm, a thing that Keenan had been—and was still—unable to accomplish.
Her skin prickled uncomfortably as she walked through that icy world. Aislinn was an interloper, and Winter was as unpredictable as Summer. Donia might deny it, but Aislinn had spent her life cringing at the ravages of the seemingly endless snows. She’d seen bodies dead and frozen on side streets; the lifeless expressions of pain were things she’d not forget. Aislinn had felt the pain of that ice wielded as a weapon when she and Keenan stood against the last Winter Queen.
That wasn’t Donia, Aislinn reminded herself, but it did no good. Something about the very opposition of their courts made Aislinn want to clutch Keenan’s hand in hers, but he wasn’t there.
As Aislinn stepped onto the porch, one of the white-winged Hawthorn People opened the door. The faery was soundless in her movement. She did not speak as Aislinn came through the doorway and shivered in the chill that pervaded the room. She did not speak as she glided through the dim house.
“Is Donia available?” Aislinn’s voice echoed in the stillness, but there was no answer.
She hadn’t truly expected one: the Hawthorns were silent. It added to how unsettling they were. They never wandered far from Donia’s presence and typically only left the Winter Queen’s home if it was necessary to stay at Donia’s side. Their red eyes glowed like hearth coals amidst their ash-gray countenances.
The girl led Aislinn past several other quietly watchful Hawthorns who were lingering in the main hall. A fire crackled in one of the rooms they passed; the spitting and popping of logs was the only sound other than the fall of Aislinn’s feet on the aged wood of the floor. The Winter Court could move with an eerie stillness that made the back of Aislinn’s neck prickle uneasily.
At a door that was closed, the Hawthorn stopped. She made no movement to open the door.
“Do I need to knock?” Aislinn asked.
But the girl turned and drifted away.
“That’s helpful.” Aislinn reached out a hand just as the door opened inward.
“Come in.” Evan motioned her into the room.
“Hey, Evan.”
“My queen would speak to you in private,” he said, but he followed that with a friendly smile, crinkling his face into an expression that eased Aislinn’s tension a bit. Like the Hawthorn People, his berry-red eyes stood out, but where the Hawthorn were tinted like ashes of a dying fire, rowans like Evan were the image of fecundity. His gray-brown barklike skin and dark green leafy hair spoke of trees that moved across the earth untethered. They were creatures of Summer, of her court. It soothed her to see him.
But he was leaving already, and Aislinn was alone with Donia and her wolf, Sasha.
“Donia,” Aislinn started, but there suddenly weren’t words she could think of to go any further.
The Winter Queen did not make matters easier. She stood watching Aislinn. “I assume he sent you.”
“He would prefer talking to you himself.” Aislinn felt like a small child in the vast unwelcoming room, but Donia hadn’t offered her a seat or made any move to sit down herself, so she stood. The rug under their feet was almost threadbare, muted green, and somehow still seemed opulent. Aislinn suspected it was more suited to a museum than daily use.
“I had Evan refuse him entrance.” Donia paced away from Aislinn, keeping an exaggerated distance.
It made her anxious that the Winter Queen felt compelled to stay out of reach.
“Can I ask why?”
“You can.” Donia seemed unusually unapproachable.
Aislinn forced her irritation and a twinge of fear away. “Okaaay. I’m asking.”
“I don’t want to see him.” Donia smiled, and Aislinn shivered.
“Look. If you want me to go, just tell me. I’m here because he asked and because I like you.” Aislinn folded her arms over her chest, as much to keep herself from fidgeting uneasily as to keep from reaching out to smash one of the delicate snow globes that lined a shelf on the wall. They weren’t the sort of thing she’d expect Donia to have, but right now didn’t seem like the best time to ask about them. Something about Donia’s behavior was off, and Aislinn felt herself responding to an unspoken threat.
“Your temper is more obvious as Summer’s strength grows.” Donia’s chilling smile was steadfast. “Like his. You even look like him with that glow pulsing under your skin.”
“Keenan is my friend.” Aislinn bit down on her lip and curled her fingers tighter into her folded arms, not in nerves but for tiny bits of pain to ground herself.
The Winter Queen walked farther away. She paused at the window and traced her finger over the glass, covering it with frost flowers. She didn’t look at Aislinn as she began to speak. “It?
??s like a wound, loving him. He’s everything I ever dreamed of. When we are together”—she sighed, a cloud of freezing air that left tiny icicles clinging to the drapes—“I don’t care that he could burn me up. In that moment, I’d welcome it. I’d say yes even if it ended me.”
Aislinn’s temper fled, and she blushed, unprepared for this sort of conversation with Donia.
Donia didn’t turn from the glass as she continued, “I’ve wondered if that’s why Miach and Beira were so unable to coexist. I see it, history ready to repeat itself. Don’t think I am unaware, Ash.”
The Winter Queen turned her back to the window. She leaned against it, framed by the icy lace with which she’d decorated the glass and drapes.
“I’m not judging you. I want you to be with Keenan,” Aislinn insisted.
“Even if it’s a mistake?” Donia’s tone wasn’t one Aislinn could read. It verged on taunting. “Even if it’s history repeating? Even if the consequences are horrific? Would you have us start a war to protect your heart?”
Aislinn couldn’t answer. She hadn’t really thought much about the fact that Keenan’s parents were the Summer King and Winter Queen.
“I wonder now if Beira’s killing Miach was unexpected. Summer Kings are so volatile. Winter can be so much calmer.” As Donia spoke, a chair of ice formed under her. The edges weren’t smooth, but ragged like waves frozen in mid-break.
Aislinn didn’t mean to, but she laughed. “Can be? I’ve seen the temper in you. Summer can be calm too. Whatever you two have just isn’t…and I don’t think calm is what either of you would want. I saw him after Solstice. There were frostbites on his skin, but he was happy.”
“You would see those marks, wouldn’t you?” Donia gave her a look that wasn’t friendly at all. “Every time I think I have him out of my system, and then he’s sweet or wonderful…” She looked wistful. “Do you know what he did?”
Aislinn shook her head.
“He had a gardening company remove the hawthorn…that awful plant that was the scene of every test. It’s gone from here and from the cottage. Not killed, but replanted away from me.” Tiny ice drops clicked as they shattered at Donia’s feet.
“That’s sweet….”
“It is.” Donia’s face was a mirror of the feelings Aislinn often felt for Keenan—the bittersweet mix of affection and frustration that assailed her more and more—and Aislinn hated that they had that in common. She hated that they were in this conversation.
They stayed there, neither going any further, until Donia said, “It’s not going to change my mind. I know he thinks he might love me, but he thinks he might love you too.”
I wish I could lie. Right now I really wish I could lie to her.
“I don’t want…” Aislinn faltered. She tried again, “We aren’t…” The words weren’t wholly true: she couldn’t pronounce them. Finally, she said, “I am with Seth.”
“You are, but he’s mortal.” Donia didn’t look angry. “And Keenan is your king, your partner. I hear it in his voice when he says your name. He never sounded like this about anyone else.”
“Except you.”
The Winter Queen nodded. “Yes, except me. I know that.”
“He wants to see you. He’s upset, and you need to—”
“No.” Donia stood. “You’re in no position to tell me what I need to do. My court has held sway over the earth longer than either of us can imagine. They’ve watched Keenan suffer under Beira’s boot for centuries.” Donia was motionless, but her eyes were snowblind. “They do not give up power easily, but I ask it of them. I require them to accept that Summer must have more than a few brief days.”
“Then you see why you need to work things out.”
“So Summer can grow stronger.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s meant to motivate me?” Donia laughed. “The Summer Court despised me for failing to be you. They weren’t there to comfort me when I tried to give him his court and failed…. Tell me, Ash, why should I care what goes on in your court?”
“Because you love Keenan, and he loves you, and we can have peace if you two sort out whatever you’re angry about this time.”
“You have no clue who your king truly is, do you?” Donia sounded bemused. “Even though your mother died to avoid being trapped in his court and you’ve lost your mortality for him, you’re still blinded. I’m not. What stands between us is his arrogance and…you, Ash.”
“I don’t want to be between you. I want Seth to be in my life, only Seth. If I could I’d still be mortal and…I wish you had been Summer Queen.”
“I know. It’s part of what keeps me from hating you.” Donia smiled, almost affectionately.
“I don’t love him,” Aislinn blurted hurriedly, as if afraid the words weren’t going to be pronounceable, as if it could be almost a lie. “I’m furious with him regularly and…I want you and him to be together.”
“I know that as well.”
“Then just be with him.”
“I won’t be your shield, Ash.” An edge of scorn threaded through Donia’s voice.
“My…?”
“You can’t hide behind me to make sense of whatever you two are trying to sort out.” Donia flexed her fingers almost absently, and hoarfrost crept over the walls. Crackling ice covered sconces and faded wallpaper.
“You two had plenty of problems before me.” Aislinn felt her skin warming, an inevitable reaction to the dropping temperature in the room. Her own energy tried to push the chill from the air nearest her.
“We did.” Snowflakes floated gently to the ground around Donia. “But they were all based in him seeking you.”
“I didn’t ask for this.” Aislinn was advancing on Donia. She needed Donia to see Keenan, needed her to understand. It was what they all needed. “You have to—”
“Don’t dictate to me, Aislinn.” The Winter Queen sounded perfectly calm. Her stillness was that of newly fallen snow, untouched, undisturbed.
“I didn’t come here to fight you.” Her sunlight was a weak shield in the Winter Queen’s home. Her palace. Call it what she would, that’s what it truly was, her palace, her seat of power. And not where I should be.
“Maybe that was a mistake.” Donia’s fingertips were points of ice. “Summer began early this year because I allowed it.”
“And we appreciate that.”
Donia toyed with the ice in and on her hands, clicking the shards together. “Yet you come into my home as if you are stronger, as if what you want matters more, as if your court has a voice in my domain….”
Aislinn’s temper flared, a blink of sunlight in the icy room, but she still moved back. “I didn’t mean it that way. We didn’t. I just don’t see why you have to be unreasonable.”
“Unreasonable? Because what Summer seeks must be a good idea?”
Aislinn couldn’t answer. It seemed obvious that a stronger Winter Court wasn’t the right answer. Hadn’t they all thought that? Donia had faced almost certain death at the last Winter Queen’s hands because she had thought that, but as they stood there, it seemed clear to Aislinn that Donia’s stance had changed.
“If I strike you, he will be furious, despite your insults.” Donia took a step forward. “What would he say? Would it keep him from coming to my door, dragging out this hell he puts us through? Would it put things as they should be?”
“I don’t know…as they ‘should be’? What does that mean?” Aislinn wanted to run. Donia was stronger; the Winter Court was still stronger.
“This thing between us isn’t as simple as it was before you and I became regents. If we fight, our courts are in discord. My court wants that”—Donia caught her gaze and held it—“and I’ve thought about it. I’ve imagined it, driving this ice into your sunlit skin. I’ve thought about striking you. I would resolve this foolish attempt to pretend we’re all friends here.”
“Donia?” Aislinn watched her warily. As with Niall, the faery Aislinn thought she’d known was replaced with
something feral, someone who could—and would—injure her. Aislinn stood alone with the Winter Queen in her palace.
“I like you. I remind myself of that often, but there are other factors….” The Winter Queen’s words faded away. Snow drifted around her feet. “The Summer Court is not welcome in my Winter.”
Despite the ice covering the walls, despite the chill in Donia’s voice, Aislinn’s temper finally slipped out of her control. “We have no voice in your court, but you can dictate to us?”
“Yes.”
“Why should we—”
And Donia was beside her before the words could come out. She put a hand on the center of Aislinn’s stomach and pressed ice-tipped fingers into Aislinn’s skin. The ice melted as it pierced Aislinn, but as fast as that ice melted, more extended, cutting deeper into Aislinn’s stomach. Bits of it broke off and embedded inside her.
Aislinn screamed. The pain was instant, burning holes inside of her, and Aislinn wasn’t sure which was from the stabbing and which was from the ice. Am I going to die here?
“Why should you listen to my desires?” Donia murmured. Fingers still red with Aislinn’s blood, Donia put her hand on Aislinn’s chin and tilted her head so they were eye-to-eye. “Because I am stronger, Ash, and you both need to remember that. This balance you want only comes if I allow it.”
“You stabbed me.” Aislinn thought she might vomit. Her body felt clammy. Pain from the ice inside her skin vied with pain from the punctures in her stomach.
“It seemed prudent.” Donia’s expression was all too similar to the last Winter Queen’s: utterly unapologetic and unmoved by the horrific thing she’d just done.
“Keenan will—”
“Be angry. Yes, I know, but”—Donia sighed, an icy cloud of breath that made Aislinn cringe—“your wounds are mild. They won’t be next time.”
Aislinn put a hand to her stomach, but it was a weak attempt to stop the blood that trickled from the row of holes in her skin. “Keenan and I could retaliate. Is that what you want?”