Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

“You’re saying yes?” He gaped at her. His legs felt weak.

She shrugged. “You please me…and you have the potential to benefit Faerie, Seth Morgan. This is not a gift given lightly. You are binding yourself to me for as long as you live.”

“I’m already bound in other ways to two other faery rulers, and fond of a third.” He tried to push back the fear that was creeping over him. He wanted this, but it was still terrifying. It was eternity they were discussing. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing, on calm spaces in his mind. It took away the edge of panic.

Then he said, “So what do I need to do? How’s it work?”

“It’s a simple thing. One kiss and you’ll be changed.”

“A kiss?” Seth looked at her; there were two other faery queens who could demand a kiss without making him uncomfortable. Kissing Aislinn was something Seth never tired of doing, and Donia…he didn’t think of her that way, but he liked her as a person. Plus it would irritate Keenan if I kissed Donia. He smiled at that thought.

The High Queen, however, held absolutely no sexual or romantic appeal. She reminded Seth of the statues in the antiquities sections of art books, austere and unyielding. Even before Aislinn was the Summer Queen, she was passionate; Donia might be winter incarnate, but cold was not the same as temperate.

“Is there another way?” he asked. A kiss seemed a strange request, and while faeries were clever, they also didn’t lie. Seth knew that questioning was not only expected, but also lauded.

The High Queen’s expression didn’t change, not even a flicker of an emotion crossed her face, but when she spoke, her voice hinted at amusement. “Were you hoping for a quest? A seemingly impossible task that you could relay to your queen afterward? Would you like to tell her that you found and slayed the dragon for love of her?”

“A dragon?” Seth weighed his words carefully. “No, not so much. I just don’t think Ash would be cool with me kissing you, and faeries aren’t always very forthcoming about the ins and outs of things.”

“We aren’t, are we?” Sorcha sat down on a chair that was almost as elegant as she was. Wrought of silver, it was all graceful lines that had no visible beginning or end, like Celtic knotwork made tactile. It also hadn’t existed in the moment before she sat in it.

“So, is there another way?” he prompted.

Sorcha smiled at him, a Cheshire cat’s grin, and for an instant he expected t

he rest of her to vanish. Instead, she fluttered a fan she slid from her sleeve, a demure gesture at odds with her now obvious amusement. “Not that I’m inclined toward. A kiss for your new monarch. It seems only fair to ask what you don’t want to give.”

“I’m not sure ‘fair’ would be the right word there.”

The fan stilled as she asked, “Are you arguing with me?”

“No.” Seth was pretty sure Sorcha was intrigued, so he didn’t back down. “Debating, actually. Arguing would involve anger or fear.”

Sorcha crossed her ankles, resettling her old-fashioned skirts and exposing the silver threads that crept up her ankles. “You amuse me.”

“Why a kiss?”

A spark of something dangerous slid into the High Queen’s voice as she asked, “Do you think she’d mind that much? Your Summer Queen?”

“It wouldn’t make her happy.”

“And that’s reason enough for you to not want to do it?”

“It is.” He tugged on his lip ring, hoping briefly that he wasn’t telling her the exact things she wanted to hear, but increasingly certain that Sorcha found appeal in the idea of Aislinn’s displeasure.

This no-lying-to-faeries thing is a bad plan. He wasn’t particularly fond of having a moral code just then. She’d lie to me if she were able.

Sorcha answered in a whisper-soft voice, “The simple things are perhaps the most difficult.”

Then she held out her hand in an invitation he suddenly wanted to refuse. Despite having been surrounded by faeries the past few months, her unnaturally elongated too-thin fingers creeped him out. She could crush me with that delicate hand.

“This will make me like you? I’ll be a faery after?”

“You will, for all but one month of true fealty spent in my realm each year.” Sorcha hadn’t moved anything but that bone-thin hand and even that was unwavering. “During that month, you will be mortal.”

He couldn’t quite get his feet to move, but his mind told him he needed to. Retreat or proceed, those were the choices. “One kiss for eternity with Ash.”

At that, Sorcha’s calm faltered. “Oh, no, I don’t guarantee that. One kiss in exchange for faery longevity. You’ll be held to faery law: lying will be beyond your capabilities; your word will be a vow. Basic glamour will be yours to wield. You’ll be one of us in almost every way, but cold iron and steel will be not be toxic to you because you will retain a touch of your mortality. As to your queen, Summer Court faeries are a fickle lot—volatile, untidy in their emotions. I cannot promise you eternity with her.”