Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

“Beira’s time had passed.” The hags exchanged calm looks. “She knew the terms Irial’d set, should’ve known what would happen if she interfered: her choice, her failure.”

The same one spoke again, “Donia will be a strong queen. We waited until one survived winter’s kiss. She”—the hag looked at Donia with something like awe in her eyes—“is ours now.”

They all bowed, looking graceful despite their haggard bodies, and said, “We serve the Winter Queen. It is the order of things.”

Donia struggled to sit up. She lifted a hand, her fingertips brushing Keenan’s face. To spend eternity with Keenan—this was a fantasy she’d kept silent for decades.

He held her gaze. “No, Don…There’s another way. The healers will be here and…”

“This doesn’t need healing. The Winter Court is mine. I feel it; the winter fey, I feel them.”

“The hags can do something…I don’t care what. Stay with me, Don. Please.” He held her tighter, scowling up at the hags and the lupine fey that had come into the room. Behind them, several of the hawthorn people waited.

Healers from both the Winter Court and Summer Court stepped forward. Some were tending to Seth under Aislinn’s careful watch.

Briefly Donia glanced at Aislinn, and the Summer Queen stood. She, at least, understood the inevitability of what needed to happen.

“Keenan.” Donia reached up to him and pulled his face closer to her. “The chill is already in me. If I fight it, it’ll take longer to grow, but it won’t change.”

Aside from the overwhelming urge to wipe away the horror in Keenan’s eyes, Donia wasn’t upset. She’d expected to die today. Ruling was far from a bad trade-off.

Before it was too late, she wrapped her arms around Keenan and let herself glory in the sort of kiss they hadn’t been able to share in far too long.

When she pulled away, Keenan wept, his tears like warm rain hissing as they fell on her face.

Then Aislinn pulled Keenan away and held on to him as the hags helped Donia over to Beira’s body.

Black clouds gathered and ripped open, drenching them all, as Keenan’s emotions grew more volatile.

Grasping the staff, Donia pressed her mouth to Beira’s still body and inhaled. The rest of the Winter Queen’s cold flowed into her, rolling through her like an icy wave, churning until it suddenly stopped and lay quiet—a fathomless frozen pool surrounded by ice-laden trees and unmarred white fields.

The words came to her from the white world, sliding through her lips like a winter wind, “I am the Winter Queen. As those before me, I will carry the wind and ice.”

And she was healed, stronger than she’d ever been. Unlike Beira, Donia did not trail icy shards in her path as she went over to Keenan.

His sun-kissed tears shimmered as they fell into the puddles on the floor.

She reached up to pull him to her, careful to keep her chill contained, thrilled that she could do so now. Then she whispered, “I love you. I have always loved you. This doesn’t change that.”

Eyes wide, he stared at her, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t repeat the words.

Then Donia lifted Beira in her arms, and with the hags trailing behind her, went to the door. Pausing on the threshold, she caught Aislinn’s gaze and said, “We will speak soon.”

After a quick glance at the still-speechless Keenan, Aislinn nodded.

Then—eager to be out of their brightness—Donia wrapped her fingers around the staff and walked away from the Summer King and Queen.

EPILOGUE

FIRST SNOW

Clutching the silk-smooth wood of the Winter Queen’s staff—my staff—Donia walked out of her cottage and into the shadow of the barren trees.

Outside, her fey waited; Keenan’s guards were gone—all but Evan, who’d stayed on as the head of her new guard. There were grumblings over that one—a summer fey heading the new Winter Queen’s guard—but it wasn’t anyone’s right to challenge her choices.

Not anymor

e.