Fragile Eternity

“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 gri

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 Aisli

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 ca

“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 begi

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 Aisli

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.

Chapter 17

Aisli

She called Keenan.

“How are you?” were his first words. He sounded calm, friendly, like nothing had happened.

She sighed in relief. “Better. I’m better.”

“There’s food”—his voice was tentative then—“beside the bed. I had them bring new trays every half hour so it’d be warm for you.”

“I could warm it. Sunlight, remember?” She felt relieved that they were able to talk, that they could feel comfortable with each other. “Where are you?”

“The orchards outside the city. It’s beautiful here. They’re healthy now.”

“So you’re there because…?”

“I just wanted to give them a little extra attention. Check on them.” Warm currents thrummed in his voice. He rarely sounded so at peace.

The depth of his joy at seeing the earth thrive again wasn’t something she could quite reach, but she shared it to a lesser degree. She’d known less than two decades of bitter cold; he’d known centuries of it—and had felt responsible for not being able to end it. The truth of that was epiphanic. “That’s where you go when I’m in school, isn’t it?”

“To the orchard? Not always.” His tone grew evasive.

“But other places like it.” She uncovered her plate. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t steaming hot either. She let a little heat into her fingertips and warmed the plate and its contents.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She took a bite of the omelet—spinach, cheese, and tomato—one of her favorites.