He grinned. “No. I just want an answer that only you can give me.”
“Ask.” She glanced up the path to assure that her brother was not approaching. She suddenly didn’t want him to hear this conversation with Seth.
“This kindness you show me…What is it?”
She paused. It was a fair question. The answer was one he could ponder while he was away in the mortal realm. Perhaps it would even convince him to come back sooner. “Are you sure that’s the question you want answered? There are other things you—”
“I’m sure,” he murmured.
“I am the High Queen. I am without consort”—she held up a hand as he opened his mouth to say something, and then she continued—“or child.”
“Child?”
“Children are a rare gift in Faerie. We live too long to have many young. To have one—” Sorcha shook her head. “Beira was a fool. She had a son, but she let her fear that he’d be like his father rule her. She kept her own affection bound away from him but for strange bursts of kindness he didn’t see. Had she done otherwise, Keenan wouldn’t have been a Summer King but…”
“Her heir.”
Sorcha nodded. “He was born of sun and of ice. Beira’s fears made him not hers.”
“And you?”
“I have no heir, no consort, no parent. If I had a child, though, I’d visit him if he wanted my…meddling.” She hadn’t spoken this to anyone. It was irrational, this desire to have a real family. She had Devlin. She had her court.
And one very disturbed sister.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted a family. Eternity with no true connections made sense; it helped her keep her focus. The Unchanging Queen had no business wanting change—but she did. “I want a son.”
“I’m…honored.” Seth didn’t look aghast at her words. He paused, and he lowered his voice to say, “I have one mother who gave birth to me as a mortal, so she’s been stuck with me because of that, and since you gave me a second birth, I guess that kind of means you’re stuck with me too.”
She felt warmth in her eyes, maudlin tenderness that made her leak tears. “To be remade means
someone giving you of themselves. To be remade strong enough to withstand the dangers of that world and of my affection meant having a strong faery make that gift. I wanted you to be strong.”
Admitting what she’d done wasn’t her intention either—at least that was what she’d told herself when she’d made the choice.
He was following her implications, though. “Did a faery lose immortality for this?”
“No.”
“What was the cost? The exchange?”
“A bit of mortal emotion and a little vulnerability.” Sorcha kept her voice low too. Devlin might be trustworthy, but that didn’t mean he respected her privacy fully. Her brother was as protective as Bananach was destructive.
“You did this?” he whispered.
She nodded slightly.
He had something like awe in his eyes as he looked at her. “Will you visit me?”
“I would come to check on you.”
“Right.” He embraced her, hastily, but still an embrace—a sudden, impulsive hug.
It was a kind of heaven she hadn’t ever felt before.
Then Seth added, “Tell me who I’m allowed to speak to of this or bind me.”
“Niall. Irial. They may know if you choose it. Niall already knows, I suspect.”