Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

“Oh, yes.” Siobhan’s expression left no doubts. “Eternity is a long time, my Queen. Our king was often distracted, but until you were found, Niall had a purpose in our court. He hid his darkness with dizzying bouts of affection. I took the lion’s share.”

She walked over to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out a dress. “You ought to dress for dinner. For the king.”

Aislinn stood and went over to the wardrobe. She ran a hand along the outside. The tableaus of faery revelries carved into the wood didn’t make her pause anymore. The opulence of the room didn’t either. Keenan had found these things in an attempt to make her happy; he’d decorated the room lavishly, but she couldn’t deny that she liked it—or the dresses inside the wardrobe.

“I don’t want to dress up,” she said.

Siobhan’s princess-perfect face was a vision of contempt. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wallow. Weaken us as Bananach scouts our perimeter. Distract our king with your selfishness. Keep him from finding happiness with you or with the Winter Queen.”

“That’s not—”

“He stays away from Donia in order to be by your side when you need him, yet you still refuse to see him as you should—as your true king and partner. He’s willing to sacrifice his new chance with her in hopes that you’ll move on. Yet you weep and hide, and he worries and mourns. Both of you saddened is unacceptable. Our court requires laughter and frivolity. This melancholy and denial of pleasure weakens the very core of who you are—and weakens us as a result.” Siobhan closed the wardrobe with a slam and, in the next heartbeat, turned a plaintive gaze on Aislinn. “If your mortal isn’t here to share laughter and pleasure, if our king is denied his joy at loving the other queen, if you are both so maudlin, we grow weak and sad. Your laughter and bliss filters into all of us, as does this wallowing in despair.

Go to dinner with our king. Let him help you smile.”

“But I don’t love him.” Aislinn knew the words sounded weak, even as she said them.

“Do you love your court?”

Aislinn looked at her, the faery who’d had the courage to tell her what she very much didn’t want to hear. “I do.”

“Then be our queen, Aislinn. If your mortal comes home, you can deal with it, but right now, your court needs you. Your king needs you. We need you. Take pleasure in the world…or send our king to Winter so he can have pleasure. You keep him at your side but give him nothing to smile about. Your pain is hurting all of us. Accept what you can take of the pleasure he would offer.”

“I don’t know how,” Aislinn said. She didn’t want to move on, but she admitted—to herself, at least—that she treasured Keenan’s comfort. She looked at Siobhan, well aware that her confusion was plain in her expression. “I don’t know what to do.”

Siobhan’s voice gentled as she said, “Choose to be happy. It is what we have all done.”

CHAPTER 22

For the next four days, Seth waited in Sorcha’s hidden city. After Seth’s initial meeting with the High Queen, Devlin had deposited him in a spacious set of rooms, complete with an elaborate terrarium where Boomer was happily ensconced. It wasn’t bad—but for the one critical detail. I left Ash five nights ago. He wished now that he’d answered her calls or texts the day he’d gone. His phone didn’t work here. He had no signal at all.

That was really all he lacked: contact with Aislinn. Everything else seemed to appear before he could want it. Meals arrived in his room, and he broke the injunction against accepting faery food. He’d made his choice: he wasn’t leaving the world of faeries. Short of death, this was the path he’d be on. The first moment when he ate the food that was most likely delivered and prepared by faeries felt momentous—like acceptance of a change, like the physical commitment to a new path. He’d wished Aislinn were beside him when he ate the strange meal of unfamiliar fruits and paper-thin pastry, but then again he’d wished she were with him every moment of every day.

He spent most of his time in his quarters, but he’d roamed a bit. After the first day, he realized that he always ended up back at his rooms once he’d thought of it—so he experimented. He had only to think it and take three corners, and no matter how far he’d walked, he was in the hallway that led to his doorway.

A few faeries watched him; a few mortals smiled at him.

Inside his rooms, he’d been given art supplies aplenty—but he couldn’t focus. Sitting around wondering about the High Queen’s decision wasn’t ideal for creating. He’d meditated. He’d sketched some. He’d read in fits—books of law and discourse, treatises in the Workings of Faerie, several dense essays in the In the Companie of Subterraneans. He’d walked aimlessly. He searched for new insights in the books he found. He was in a building with rooms holding nothing but books: everything he could dream of was at his fingertips.

Everything but Ash.

If it wasn’t for missing her, he suspected he’d be happy in the space Sorcha had allotted him. It was set up as if for an artist. One wall was all glass so the light that filtered into the room was wonderful. Beyond that window-wall was an immense garden. Within the room, he had easels, paints, inks, canvas, paper, and in a side room, he had some supplies and tool options for his metalworking. Everything but inspiration. Sketching the garden from within a cell wasn’t tempting.

The restlessness he’d been fighting the past four days took him to the immense window again. This time, under closer inspection, Seth realized that within the window was a door of sorts. He pressed a half-moon shadow on the glass and the window split to open outward, allowing him access to the garden. As he entered it and looked past the flowers and trees, he saw the ocean, a vast desert, arctic plains, grasslands, mountains…Inside his room, he could only see the garden, but when his feet touched the earth outside his room, something unreal filtered into his vision.

Or real.

As he concentrated on the ocean, he could taste the briny air. Years ago, he’d lived by the sea. Linda loved that. His father wasn’t much for the water, but Seth and his mother had relished it. She’d found motherhood much easier when she felt freer. The sea breeze made her feel that way. Seth could taste it in the air, that familiar salty tang. It seemed too real to be an illusion.

The entire universe is at Sorcha’s hands.

Seth could see why she didn’t come live inside the main part of Huntsdale or any other city when she had utopia hidden in this space. Donia had the small corner of Winter year-round; Keenan and Aislinn had their park; but Sorcha seemed to have an entire world behind her barrier. Seth couldn’t quite see why anyone would leave here willingly. It was perfect.

He stopped himself. He had to stay focused so that when she allowed him to speak, he could try to convince her that he belonged in the world of faeries. Donia had listened when he spoke; she’d given him the Sight. Niall listened when he spoke; he’d offered brotherhood. Faeries seemed to respond favorably to sincerity and courage. Blind adoration, on the other hand, wasn’t persuasive—not that he had anything logical to offer as a point of debate. He didn’t want to be a finite mortal in a world of eternal faeries. He hoped she’d be sympathetic when she finally chose to listen to his request—and that she’d let him speak to her soon. He wasn’t sure how long he would be asked to wait or if he could leave if he was tired of waiting.

Am I a prisoner?

He had no answers, nor anyone to ask. Sorcha’s court wasn’t like the Summer Court with its constant chatter and laughter. It was…calm, and not very embracing.