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. “Iwas 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’madmitting . 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 myfool, 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.

Chapter 17

Aislinn woke by midday. She was alone in Keenan’s room. Her clothes were laid out on an ottoman that someone had brought to sit beside the bed. A tray with breakfast foods sat on the bedside table. Before she dealt with food or dressing, though, she called Seth—twice—but he didn’t pick up.

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.”