Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

“Aislinn?”

She’d known that question would come if Seth learned the truth, but she’d not known that it would come so soon. Careful of the words, Sorcha told him, “If you believe that not telling her will endanger your relationship irreparably or if you are ever so injured that you need me. Beyond that…”

“But Irial and Niall?”

Sorcha was pretty sure that she wasn’t doing this maternal thing entirely right. Already. However, she was starting it with a child who was far from a true infant. She trusted her instincts, not logic, not well-pondered thoughts. “Irial has been in love with Niall for centuries. Niall cares for you and will keep you safer in that world, so I won’t keep this from him. If he knows, I’ll allow Irial to know as well. They’ve had enough troubles between them that I won’t add a new one. I want them to be at peace with each other. That’s why the mortal girl they love is not here with the other Sighted ones.”

“You’re far kinder than you admit.”

“The mortal taint—” she began but stopped herself from that attempt at a lie. “I really should see what Devlin has come to tell me.”

Her son leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You just became ‘tainted,’ and Leslie’s been free for months.”

“That was a gift to…someone who was once my—” Sorcha stopped. Her cheeks were actually burning. She was blushing on her own, fully in control of herself, with no Dark Court faeries near. She liked it.

“Mothers don’t often tell their sons such things,” Seth quipped, “so I would rather not hear.”

It was positively endearing.

“Niall will help keep you safe in that other place you will live,” she added hurriedly. “I could—”

“You should still come check on me. I will miss you.” Seth held out his arm to accompany her back to the end of the path where Devlin now stood.

“I will come then.” She put her hand in the fold of his arm, and together they walked forward.

CHAPTER 30

As the next month passed, Aislinn didn’t speak of what had happened in the Dark Court. Each time Keenan had tried to discuss it, Aislinn had fled. Hearing that Seth had chosen to leave her was like having the hurt made new again. She didn’t want to touch that feeling, so she doted on her court. She acted lighthearted. She danced in the street with Tracey. She coaxed plants to strength all over the city. The earth and her faeries flourished under her attention. After a couple weeks of her being the epitome of an attentive queen, even the most cautious of her faeries believed she was fine.

Except Keenan.

But tonight was the monthly revelry, and after tonight, he would know that she was going to be fine too. It was Autumn Equinox, and she’d mourned Seth’s loss longer than they’d been a couple. She couldn’t spend eternity like this. He’d made his choice; he’d left her world, chosen not to be a mortal trying to love a faery. He’d turned his back on what she was, on what they had.

Choose to be happy. She’d spent almost six months mourning. Let him go.

Aislinn walked across the street to their park. Somewhere inside her she remembered that it was odd to own a park, but nestled next to that thought was the awareness that faeries had been staking territories for longer than mortals had walked the earth. Tonight, the oddity of what she was faded under the one truth that she could hold to: I am the Summer Queen.

Keenan stood waiting. He was her king, her partner in this strange world. Without mortal eyes watching, he was utterly himself—sunlight made solid, promises made tangible.

He knelt before her; his head was bowed as if he were her subject. And tonight, she wasn’t objecting. Tonight, she wanted to feel powerful and free—not like her heart was being laid bare and sorrow was eating her alive. She was the Summer Queen, and this was her court. This was her king.

“My Queen.”

“I am,” she said. “Your only queen.”

He still knelt, but he looked up at her. “If you choose that…”

Around them, faeries waited as they had last autumn when she was a mortal. This time, though, she understood the stakes far better. She stood, a faery queen, in her park at the end of summer, and her king knelt before her. She knew what she’d be choosing—a chance at being fully his.

Keenan held out a hand, an invitation he’d given her at every faire. At every turn he put the choice forward for her. And, at each faire, she’d taken his hand, but she’d kept herself back from him.

“Will you start the revelry…with me?” he asked. The question had become rote, a ritual that started a night of dance and drink, but the almost imperceptible pause was not routine.

“I can’t promise forever.” She took her king’s hand.

Keenan stood and pulled her into his arms. As they began to move across the ground, soil warm under their feet, he whispered, “You already gave me forever, Aislinn. I’m asking for a chance at right now.”

She shivered in her king’s arms, but she didn’t pull away. And this time, she welcomed it when he brought his lips to hers. Unlike that first time—at the faire that had changed everything—or the other two times he’d stolen kisses, she had no excuses: she was not drunk, angry, or caught off guard. She let herself enjoy the feel of his lips open against hers. It wasn’t the tenderness that she’d shared with Seth. It wasn’t the pressure Keenan had included in his earlier kisses. It was new and bittersweet.