“Oh.”

“She was sort of like you, Aislinn. Strong. Clever. Afraid of me.” He winced at the memory. “I didn’t understand it, but she looked at me like I was a monster. So when she ran, I couldn’t follow her. I knew she’d have to come back when she became a Summer Girl. I knew she wouldn’t accept the test, so I let her go.”

“And what? Waited?”

“I couldn’t un-choose someone once she was chosen.” Keenan looked sad. “I knew she was special. Just like you. When I realized that you were the one, I wondered if she would’ve been my queen if…”

“I’ve wondered too.” She realized they were whispering even though the faeries that she’d seen in the orchard weren’t anywhere near. “Or if I’m this because she was changing when she had me.”

“If I’d have done things differently—brought her back—how many things would’ve been different? If I’d known she was pregnant, you would’ve been raised by the court. You wouldn’t have resisted if you’d grown up with us. You wouldn’t have been so involved with mortals.”

She knew exactly what mortal involvement he was thinking of, but she couldn’t consider even for a heartbeat that her life would’ve been better without her mortal life. Loving Seth was the most perfect thing she’d known, and his love would be the only true love she’d ever know. That wasn’t something to wish away, even now when her heart ached. Of course, saying all of that to the faery she was tied to for eternity wasn’t something either of them needed.

“I’m glad you didn’t know,” she said.

“That year while Moira was away, pregnant with you, I spent all the free time I suddenly had trying to convince Don to forgive me.” He looked wistful. “Some nights she would deign to sit with me. We went to a revel together…and…”

“Does it get easier?”

He glanced at her. “Does what get easier?”

“Losing someone you love.”

“No.” He looked away. “I kept thinking one of her rejections would be the one that stopped hurting, but it was when she didn’t reject me that it hurt worse. I thought that we had a few years, but now…He’s gone, Ash, and I can’t not be around you. You’re my queen. I can’tnot be drawn to you. If I could set you free somehow and make Donia my queen, I would, but I can’t. And if there’s a chance that you and I might become more, I will be here with you.”

“And Donia is…”

“Not something I want to discuss right now. Please?” He held Aislinn’s gaze and said, “I need time before I can talk about her.”

“So we try to figure out how to be happy with what we do have,” she added.

It wasn’t love she felt, not like she felt for Seth, but there was friendship. There was longing. She could convince herself it was enough. If this was to be her future, she could do it. Loving someone meant being hurt; choosing passion with a friend was safer. Maybe it was calculating, keeping her heart safe, but it wasn’t only selfish: it would make their court stronger. It made good sense.

She didn’t want to fall in love with anyone else—not that she wanted to tell him that.How do you tell someone that even though you’ll be together for centuries, you don’t want to love him? Keenan deserved better.

They sat there, talking about the courts, faeries, stories from their lives—just talking. Finally, he paused. “Stay right here,” he said. Then he vanished.

She leaned against the tree, content for a change, at peace with her world.

When he returned, he had several apples he’d plucked from a tree. “These were almost ripe the other day. I knew they’d be perfect today.” Keenan knelt on the ground beside her and held an apple out, not to give it to her but for her to bite. “Taste.”

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she tasted it: sweet and juicy. He had made that happen, brought these trees to strength when the world was trapped under ice. A few drops of juice trickled down her chin as she bit into the fruit, and she laughed. “Perfect.”

He ran his thumb across her skin and brought the apple juice to his mouth. “It could be.”

It’s not.It wasn’t real. It wasn’t enough.He’s not Seth.

She backed away, trying not to see the hurt in Keenan’s eyes.

Chapter 26

Niall stood scowling in Sorcha’s sitting room. Shadows radiated from him, strands of darkness extending from a black star. He didn’t move, even though the temptation to strike out was obvious in the clenching of his hands. “You’ve made a mistake, Sorcha.”

Slowly, far more slowly than she’d approach any faery other than Bananach, Sorcha crossed the room to stand in front of him. She didn’t stop until the hem of her skirt was atop his boots. “I do not make mistakes. I make reasonable choices. I chose to make him mine.”

“He was not yours to take,” he said. The handmaids of the abyss spun and faded into tongues of black flames as Niall gripped her arms. “The other courts might let you take the Sighted ones without consequence, but I’ll fight for this one. I’ll not let you take any of the halflings or Sighted ones that are mine to protect.”

“You stand in Faerie and think to tell me what will be, Niall. Is this really what you consider wise?” Around them, the room faded away until it was just the two of them in a wide-open plain. “My will is all that matters here.”

“Perhaps you might want to remember which court once held equal sway in Faerie?” He stared at the space beside her. His brow furrowed in concentration, but it worked. The Dark King smiled as an obsidian mirror, shadows made solid, reached up from the dry earth at their feet. It wasn’t much, but it wasthere .

The tempting cadence of Niall’s voice revealed his pleasure as he remarked, “I might be new tothis court, but I watched you well once upon a time. I learned more of your secrets than I’ve told anyone.”