Darkest Mercy (Wicked Lovely 5)

He’d imagined hearing that she was truly his, dreamed of it, but in that moment, all he could do was kiss her. Seth lifted her into his arms and crossed the threshold from the hallway into the loft with her.

When he lowered her feet to the floor, she backed away, out of his arms, out of reach. “The Summer Court is strongest when its regent is happy. Do you know what makes me happy?”

When he tried to step forward, vines tangled around his legs. He glanced down at them.

She waited for him to look at her and said, “You make me happy, Seth. Always. Only you. For eternity.”

Seth pulled free of the vines that twisted around his ankles as Aislinn laughed and ran from the room.

Faeries chase.

He caught her in the hallway, and she stayed still long enough for him to kiss her breathless before she twisted away again, slipping from his grasp as if she was sunlight darting away.

“Catch me, Seth,” she invited.

He paused.

“Faeries chase,” he said, and then, with a flirtatious smile, he turned away, but before he could take a second step, she was behind him, arms around him, lips pressed against his neck.

“I seem caught,” he murmured.

The Summer Queen whispered, “Me too.”

And they fell together into the bed of flowers that now covered the floor.

Epilogue

A year later . . .

He knelt before her.

“Is this what you freely choose, to accept winter’s chill?” she asked him—the faery she’d fallen in love with so many years ago. She’d dreamed that they would be together forever, but not like this. It was so strange and beautiful that she couldn’t look away.

“It’s what I want,” he assured her again.

“You understand that if this doesn’t work . . .”

He paused, glancing at her with pain in his eyes. “I’ll still be here. If you don’t want to risk it . . . I’m still here either way. We don’t need to do this if you aren’t sure.”

“Keenan—”

“But I am willing to take the chance if it’s what we both want,” he said quietly. “I would spend eternity in the Winter with you, even if it means being your subject.” He paused before adding, “Irial and Niall say it should work.”

Discord says it’s a good idea. That’s comforting.

Donia pushed back her fears. “But if they’re wrong . . .”

“It’s what I freely choose,” he repeated.

She walked over to the hawthorn bush they’d planted together last year. The leaves brushed against her arms as she bent down and reached under it. Her fingers wrapped around the Winter Queen’s staff. It was a plain thing, worn from the countless hands that had clenched the wood.

Please let this work.

She stood and held it out to him; he wrapped his hand around it.

He clutched the Winter Queen’s staff—and she hoped. For a moment she thought they were wrong, as she watched him falter. She felt the tendrils of Winter slide into his skin, the shards of ice fill his veins. The staff was an extension of her, and she felt the pain of it all over again as Keenan’s body was remade.

With icy tears sliding down her cheeks, she knelt beside him and called his name: “Keenan!”