Fragile Eternity

Chapter 16

The commotion at the door was to be expected. Donia felt the waves of heat pulsing against her from the pew where she sat just inside the entryway. Across from her, on the seats and backs of other church pews, faeries waited attentively. It wasn’t quite popcorn-at-the-movies, but it wasn’t far from it. Sasha wasn’t there; such amusements were befuddling to the wolf. The faeries, however, were rapt.

“I will come in,” Keenan repeated for the third time.

“Unless my queen consents, you will not.” The rowan stood before the door, as imposing and resolute as he had been when he guarded Donia under Keenan’s command. None of them had forgotten that he had once pledged his fealty to the same Summer King to whom he was denying entry.

“Don’t force me to do this, Evan.”

Evan didn’t flinch, although Donia did. The idea of Evan being hurt filled her with fear. If it wouldn’t undermine Evan’s authority, if it wouldn’t undermine her own, she’d tell him to stand down, but letting Keenan walk in freely when she’d ordered otherwise was unacceptable. If she didn’t intend to speak to him, she would call reinforcements, but that too was unacceptable. She needed to talk to him, but he needed to grasp that her door was not open to him. The implied statement of only token resistance, the insult of having only one guard—of that guard especially—at the door would not be lost on Keenan.

It was, like so much in Faerie politics, a game of sorts.

Once more Evan objected, “She has been clear that you are to be stop—”

The thud and hiss of burned wood was startling, albeit also inevitable. The door was completely incinerated. Evan was charred, but not fatally so. It could’ve been much worse. The Summer King could’ve started with violence instead of giving Evan the chance to back down. He could’ve killed Evan. He hadn’t. His restraint was a gift of sorts to her.

Keenan stepped over Evan’s prone body and stared at Donia. “I’ve come to speak to the Winter Queen.”

Behind him, one of the kitsune, Rin, darted out to check on Evan. The fox-faery glared at Keenan from behind a spill of stark blue hair, but Rin’s animosity faded the moment Evan gripped her hand. Several other kitsune and a number of lupine faeries watched. They were standing and sitting and crouching expectantly. They’d make a stand against the Summer King, but Donia wasn’t willing to see any of them injured to prove a point. She’d trusted Evan—agreed with him even—that he needed to deny Keenan admission. That was as far as she felt like going.

“I don’t recall you having an appointment,” she said as she turned and walked away, knowing that he’d follow. She wasn’t airing their quarrel in front of her faeries or going to allow them to feel the pain of his temper.

Keenan waited until they were outside in the garden. Then, he grabbed her arm and spun her around so she had to look at him. All he said was, “Why?”

“She upset me.” Donia pulled free of his grasp.

“She upset you?” His expression of confused outrage was one she’d seen innumerable times over the years. That didn’t make it any easier. “You stabbed my queen, attacked my court because she upset you.”

“Actually you upset me. She simply added to it.” There was no inflection in her words. She kept her face free of emotions as well. Those dangerous feelings were sunk into the well of cold within her.

“Do you want war between our courts?”

“Most days, no.” She took another step to the side, looking at the snow around her feet as if the whole conversation was of little interest to her. For a moment, she thought the ruse would work—on one of them at least. “I just want you to stay away from me.”

Then he slipped close enough that her resolve faltered. “What happened, Don?”

“I made a choice.”

“To challenge me? To prove your court is stronger? What?”

Ice extended from her fingers. He glanced at them—and exhaled. It melted.

He took her hand in his. “You stabbed Ash. What am I to do about that?”

“What do you want to do?” She curled her hand around his, holding on to him as tightly as she dared.

“Forgive you. Strike you. Beg you not to do this.” His smile was sad. “My court…my queen…they are almost everything to me.”

“Tell me you don’t love her.”

“I don’t love Aislinn. I—”

“Tell me you won’t try to convince her to share your bed.”

“I can’t say that, and you know it.” With his free hand, Keenan absently reached out to the tree behind her and ran a hand over it. Tiny buds appeared under the ice. “One day, when Seth is gone—”

“Then you need to stay away from me.” Donia could barely see him through the snow that was falling around her. “I don’t regret stabbing her. If your court continues to disregard my dominion, she will only be the first of many I’ll strike. Most of them aren’t strong enough to survive that.”

“I’ll try to convince her one day…but ‘one day’ is not right now.” He eased even closer to her, mindless of the snowfall, melting the flakes and nearly blinding her with the sunlight that shined from his skin. The soil at her feet had become swampy as the heat from his body melted the thick crust of ice. It refroze under her feet, but in that moment it was the Summer King who was stronger. His rage gave him an edge over her. “Listen to me for a minute. You’re the only one I’ve ever cared for like this. I dream of you when I’m not with you. I wake with your name on my lips. I don’t need to stay away. She wants him, and I want you. When she told me that you stabbed her, it broke something in me. I don’t ever want to be at war with you. The idea of striking you terrifies me.”

Donia stood motionless. The tree bark pressed into her skin. Keenan’s hand was gripped in hers.

“But if you touch my queen again, I’ll set that all aside. It’ll kill me inside, but she’s mine to keep safe. Don’t make us have to go there.” He pulled his hand from hers and ran his fingers through her hair, and just as quickly as his temper had flared, it faded. He cupped her face. “Please?”

“It’s not just about her. You insult my sovereignty whenever you march in here making demands. No one does that. No other ruler. Not a one of the strong solitaries.” She put her hands on his chest and let the ice in her hands extend just far enough to break his skin. “You have used up every mercy I had.”

He leaned closer, and she couldn’t stop the instinct to retract the ice before it seriously wounded him. He smiled as she did so and said, “After all we’ve overcome to get this close, are you giving up on us now?”

She brushed her lips over his, briefly enough that it couldn’t really be called a kiss. Then she exhaled until ice clung to his face and clothes. She couldn’t stab him, not yet at least, but she could strike him.

“I love you, Don,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you years ago.”

Hearing it finally was a bittersweet thing, but that’s what it was to love him—painful and beautiful all at once. It had always been that way. Her heart sped and felt like it would break at the same time. She sighed and gave him the words back: “I love you too…. That’s why we need these things resolved. I’ll slaughter your court if we keep going this way.”

He grinned. “Don’t bank on that.”

Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she’d done, but a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full bloom. The garden flooded around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth.

She was mud-covered as he pulled back.

“I’ve had centuries to fight Winter with next to no power. I’m unbound now with all of that experience. If we are to be at odds, you might want to remember that.” He held her as close as he had during the few nights they’d had together. It was controlled, a show of power; none of his heat touched her. “But I don’t want to be at odds. As long as he’s in her life, I’ll stop. I tried. I had to. It’s what’s best for the court—but she’s not mine to have yet.”

Her breath and his mingled into a hiss of steam. “I don’t want only part of you during the few years I have you.”

He tucked an orchid in her hair. It shouldn’t thrive here, but it did. “I’m not giving up on us or on peace between our courts. I love you. I’m done pushing Aislinn. The strength of Summer’s made me stupid. She wants to be with Seth, and as long as she is, I can have more time with you. I’d have forever with you if it were my choice.” He kissed her gently. “I don’t love her. She and I talked already.”

Donia looked away. “I pushed her toward you. I just made a mistake when I let myself think that you’d be mine for a few years…she’s your match. I’m not.”

“Maybe someday, but right now…I was carried away by the first summer. It’s a heady thing, but I can redirect that energy. Let me have the dream of us for as long as we can. That’s what the court needs—a happy king, a king who can’t stop dreaming of being lost in someone who wants to be just as lost. Tell me you’ll let me get lost in you.”

She gave in. I always do.

“I will.” She pulled him closer. They were mud-caked and as tangled up as they could be without hurting each other. “But that means that until he’s gone, you’re mine only. I don’t want to see you here with her.”

“Or meddling in your court. I know. Your court, your rules. No meddling or manipulation.” He gave a wry grin at the surprised expression she wore. “I was listening, Don. I’ll apologize to Evan, follow your rules—and you’ll stop stabbing members of my court?”

She smiled. “For now.”

“I’ll settle for it,” he whispered against her lips. “For now.”

“Even if you are mine, even if this thing with Ash is not between us, I still need you to understand that I am not your subject. You cannot try to influence my court.” She needed that made clear. It wasn’t simply his relationship with his queen that was the problem. There were two issues before them.

“I loved you when you were a mortal. I loved you when you were the Winter Girl who existed to oppose me, telling tales of how awful it was to trust me.” He sprinkled kisses over her throat and collarbone between words. “I’m not here now because you are the Winter Queen, but despite that, I’ll do my best. And when I slip…”

“I won’t show you any mercy just because I love you.” She meant it and was grateful that faeries couldn’t lie because for the first time in longer than she wanted to recall, they were being completely open with each other. “But I will try to keep my heartbreak from making me vengeful when Seth dies and you—”

He stopped her with a kiss, and then whispered, “Can we not talk about the end of us? We’re at the beginning today. I’m yours. Wholly without reservation. I won’t try to interfere with your court. Can you kiss me now?”

She smiled. “I can do that.”

It wasn’t like any other kiss they’d shared. It wasn’t about trying to consume each other, or comfort, or tinged with sorrow. It was slow and careful—and over far too soon.

He leaned against the tree and stared at her with the love she’d dreamed of forever written plainly on his face. “In a few months, I’ll be able to spend several days in your arms, but right now”—he carefully stepped farther away—“I’ve reached the edge of my self-control…which I’m admitting. You see? We can do this. We can be together.”

“On Solstice”—she let a tiny shower of snow fall over them—“there won’t be any stepping away.”

“Solstice can’t come soon enough.” He darted forward and kissed a snowflake from her lips, and then he was gone.

He’s a fool. She smiled to herself. He’s my fool, though. For now. Eventually, he’d be in Aislinn’s arms—that, Donia was near certain of. When Seth was gone, Donia would need to let go of Keenan. It might mean moving away from Huntsdale for a few decades when that happened, but until then, she had reason to hope.

Maybe Bananach’s visions of war were wrong. She and Keenan had only needed to move forward. War’s visions—like Sorcha’s reputed far-seeing—were about probabilities, not certainties.

And those probabilities just changed.