Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

Aislinn sighed, and the heat of Summer rolled out over the park. “Rejoice as Summer should.” She smiled, and rainbows arced over the assembled fey. “Chase away sorrow by living.”

Then she turned to Seth and added, “Celebrate.”

After the horrors of the past days, the fight with Bananach, the time in Faerie, being caged by his friend, seeing—and feeling—the loss of so many faeries, he wanted the joy that the Summer Court was allowing themselves. Drenched faeries cavorted around them, almost frantic in their revelry, as if they were taking pleasure for themselves and for their fallen brethren.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

And Seth caught her hand in his again. “Yes.”

Vaguely, he was aware that summer fey were cheering, but it seemed distant. Everything was distant, except for the faery holding his hand.

My reason. My everything.

Part of him wanted her to say the words, but the rest of him couldn’t care less. If he had to let her go tomorrow, he would, but tonight she was his. Silently, he followed her away from her faeries, across the street, and to the loft.

Aislinn opened the door to the building. “Be welcome in my home, Seth.”

He stilled. “Pretty formal.”

“Things have changed.” She smiled enigmatically and walked inside.

He reached out to grab Aislinn’s hand again, but as he did so, she was already at the top of the first flight of stairs.

She leaned over the railing and smiled. “You’re awfully far away.”

Vines raced along the railing and burst into flower. Lilac petals rained down all around him as he stared up at her.

“Once you asked me to stop running so you could catch me,” she said. “Do you remember?”

“You were mortal then.” He started up the stairs, not running, but skipping stairs as he went.

She watched him. “So were you.”

“And now?” He was only a few steps away from her.

She laughed and ran up the second flight of stairs.

Seth followed, not as fast as she was, but fast enough that she hadn’t opened the door yet. He put a hand flat on the door and leaned close to her. “So am I to chase you, Ash?”

“When I was mortal, you told me that you’d waited for me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Vines threaded down from her hair and twisted behind him. “Lately, I’ve been the one waiting.”

“Losing you would destroy me.” He breathed the words against her neck. He’d thought about her while he was Niall’s prisoner, thought about never holding her in his arms again. “But I love you, and tonight I need—”

“Ask me. Ask me to choose.”

“Tonight, it doesn’t have to matter. I’m here either way.” Seth didn’t want to speak his fears; when he’d thought he would never see her again,

he couldn’t remember why he’d wasted the nights they could’ve had.

“Ask me, Seth,” she urged.

And he didn’t need to ask the question. He saw that in her eyes, felt it in the way she was wrapped around him. Here. Now. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her the way he had when they first fell in love. When he pulled back, he asked, “And the Summer King?”

“There is no Summer King.” Aislinn reached behind her and opened the door. “He gave up his court.”

“He . . . gave it up?” Seth echoed. Of all the things he’d thought she might have told him, Keenan giving up his court wasn’t anywhere on the list. “He . . . How? When? Why?”

“When I told him that I’d made my choice, he left.” Aislinn looked at Seth. “We both want to be with the ones we love.”