Darkest Mercy

Chapter 11

“Where the hell is Keenan?” Aislinn grumbled. “I’m not ready for a war. I’m not ready for a grief-mad Dark King, either. . . . I don’t know how to do this on my o—”

A knock at the study door interrupted her, and barely a blink had passed before Tavish was in front of her. Even here in the loft, he kept himself between her and the door. A sword hung at his side, and she knew that another weapon, a sliver-thin steel blade, was strapped to his ankle. The very fact that he could wear cold steel spoke of how strong—and old—he was.

The door opened, and Seth walked into the room. “Ash?”

Her first instinct was to run to him, to throw herself into his arms and cling to him, but that wasn’t where they were—not anymore, perhaps never again. She brushed her hands over her skirt, smoothing it down, and smiled at him. “Seth.”

“I will find you answers, my Queen. Summer is to be happy if we are to be as strong as we need, my Queen. Indulge in your happiness, if not for you, then for your court.” Tavish gave her a pointed look and then turned to Seth. “I am glad you were not killed in the fight with Bananach.”

Seth quirked a brow. “Me too.”

“Indeed.” Tavish nodded and left.

For a moment after the door to the study was closed, Aislinn simply stared at Seth. He looked tired. Dark circles were under his eyes, and his shoulders were drooping slightly. His left cheek was discolored, and his bottom lip had a cut. There were no other visible marks, but she couldn’t see through the shirt and jeans he wore. The shirt, however, did confirm that he’d been to Faerie. Instead of one of his usual T-shirts, he wore a silky shirt that fit him as if it had been tailored especially for him.

And probably was.

“I . . . I know it sounds repetitive, but I wouldn’t have vanished without telling you if there was a choice,” he said. “There was a fight with Bananach and her Ly Ergs.”

“I know. Tavish told me . . . and about Tish.” She couldn’t look away from Seth. “You’re okay?”

“Mostly. Bruised up, but”—he shrugged, though his eyes gleamed with pride—“after all the training with Gabriel’s Hounds, I held my own.”

The thought of it, of Seth fighting War and her minions, overruled the fear of rejection, overruled the fear of what could come. If not for me, for my court, she told herself. Happiness is a choice. She wanted to choose Seth; if it were that simple, she would’ve already done so. If it’s between love and duty . . . She still wanted love.

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Seth. The rightness of being in his arms hadn’t ever stopped. For a moment, she rested her cheek against his chest; then she looked up at him.

Before he could speak, she pulled his mouth to hers. Now that he was fey—and seemingly stronger than he realized—she didn’t worry about injuring him with her affection. Before, she had to be careful not to break him. Now, the risks of a faery loving a mortal were erased. Barring fatal injury, he’d live for centuries. She leaned into him, gave herself over to the thrill of his kiss. It wasn’t a trick or faery enchantment. It wasn’t for power. It was just them.

And I don’t want it to ever end.

When he started to pull away, she tangled her fingers in his hair. “Don’t stop. Please?”

“Ash? Hey? It’s okay,” he whispered in the fraction of space between them.

She felt his words against her lips.

He repeated, “I’m okay. I’m here.”

She didn’t step away. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m here.” He smiled. “Right here with you.”

“You’ll leave again, though.” Aislinn tightened her arms around him. “War is fighting with Niall’s fey. Your . . . mother would come unglued if . . .” Her words dwindled at the look on his face. “What?”

“She had a bit of a, umm, grief thing over my absence.” Uncharacteristically, he blushed. “She’s new to the whole emotion thing . . . and . . .”

“And?”

“She almost destroyed Faerie.” He bit his lip ring as he watched her face for a reaction.

Without meaning to, Aislinn laughed. In light of all the threats looming outside the door, of all that they stood to lose, the sheepish look on Seth’s face was too much.

“She almost destroyed Faerie because she missed you?” Aislinn asked. When he nodded, she added, “Bit different than Linda, huh?”

“Just a bit. I’m still not sure where Mom is, but”—he shrugged—“they’re just different.”

“Oldest faery and mortal mother with wanderlust?” Aislinn giggled.

Seth tried to look serious for a second, and then he laughed too. They stood there for a moment, and the laughter fled.

He kissed her softly and then said, “I never imagined how much life would change or how quickly.”

She held his gaze. “Do you ever wish . . . I mean, if you and I hadn’t . . . If I hadn’t told you about faeries that day . . .”

“I love you.” He looked directly at her. “You are the single most amazing person, faery, woman in this world or the other. Because of you, I am a part of this strange new world, have a second mother, and . . . eternity. I have almost everything I could want.”

“Almost everything,” she repeated.

“Ash? That wasn’t pressure. You know what I want from you. Until he’s back and you’re sure you’re able to refuse him, I’m not going to cross that line. He’s your king, and you can’t promise either of us that the temptation to strengthen your court by being . . . with him is over.” A look of regret crossed Seth’s face, and then he added, “He’ll be back, Ash. Equinox is coming, and there is no way that the Summer King won’t be here for the start of his season.”

“I thought he’d be back at Solstice for Donia,” Aislinn said, and then, before Seth could reply, she added, “I don’t want to talk about him. Actually, I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Ash,” Seth started.

“Just for a minute, can we leave all the things out there”—she looked toward the door he’d entered only moments before—“alone? Can we be just us?”

A look of hesitation crossed his face, but he didn’t push her away.

“Just kiss me, Seth. Please?” she urged. “Later. Tomorrow. We can tell each other all of the things that are going to cause stress. Can’t we just let it alone and . . . be? I need you.”

He swept her legs from under her and lifted her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck. Silently, he walked over to the sofa behind her and sat. She was sideways on his lap now; her arms were still looped around his neck.

“You could stay here in my arms,” she invited.

Seth kissed her softly and then pulled away. “No, I can’t.”

“Did I mention”—she let her sunlight fall around them—“that I want to be with you?”

As she knew they would, his eyes widened at the touch of sunlight on his skin; his whole body tensed as the pleasure of the sunlight slid over him. Still, he forced out a sentence: “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe I don’t want to play fair, Seth.” She breathed the words and was rewarded by his arms tightening around her. “Faeries have been seducing mortals—”

“Not mortal right now, Ash.”

“Mortals and each other,” she continued, “for centuries. You’re asking me to pretend I’m content with a few kisses?” Aislinn didn’t blush as she said it: there was no reason to hide what she wanted. “I love you, and I want you.”

He groaned. “Ash—”

She brushed her lips over his in an invitation. Thankfully, he didn’t resist, so she kissed him for real.

After only a moment, he pulled away again. “You’re killing me here, Ash.”

“Good,” she said. She’d bend a few rules, but they both knew she wasn’t going to push him beyond where he chose to go. Love wasn’t to be based on trickery.

But reminding him what he’s refusing isn’t trickery.

With sunlight pulsing in her skin, she trailed her fingertips over his chest and stomach. As she did so, she held his gaze.

His hands went to her hair, tangled there, and held her. “As much as I wish I could stay . . . even if we just do this . . . I need to go.”

She frowned, but she moved to sit beside him. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you after. Promise.” Seth played with a strand of her hair. “Trust me?”

“I do, but—”

“Please?” Seth interrupted. “I’ll explain, but I need to go now.”

“Okay.” Aislinn turned her face to kiss his palm. “Maybe afterward, I can convince you to let me lock you away for a few days. I want to. . . .”

“You’re the Summer Queen,” he said, as if that was all there was to it.

“Summer or not, there’s no one else in my bed. No one else has ever been there,” she reminded him.

A look of sorrow crossed his face almost too quick to see, but he didn’t point out that the only reason that was true was because Keenan hadn’t accepted her invitation. Instead, Seth only said, “I hope that’s always true.”

Me too.