Darkest Mercy tf-5
Page 24
With icy tears sliding down her cheeks, she knelt beside him and called his name: “Keenan!”
“My Queen,” he breathed reverently as his eyes filled with snow.
Unlike her, he was born of winter, so he wasn’t aching with the pain of the cold. In truth, he was more stunning in that instant than he’d ever been before.
“My consort,” she whispered.
He took her free hand in his. Bands of ice began to wrap around their arms, binding their wrists together. “Will you be my forever, Donia?”
“Yes. Will you share my life? My court? My forever?”
“Till death, my Queen.” Keenan sighed the words against her cheek; frost formed in her hair.
She pressed her lips to his, relishing the cold that lifted from his skin.
And the Winter Queen and her consort covered their winter garden with a fall of white snow.
The End
Acknowledgments
Once upon a time, I walked into what was reputedly “the worst bar in town” to listen to the blues. I said, “I like it here,” and a woman offered me a job. I wasn’t looking for a job, but I said yes. Years later, the Scramble Dog is still in my memories and heart. If you’re out there—Richard, Debbie, Rob, Taz, Swift, Kyote, Andy, Johnny, Becky, Sarge, Little Dave, Thumper, Grandpa, JW, August, and many of the rest of you—thank you for smiles, stories, dances, music, thrills, and rides. You’re not characters in my books, but sometimes I see your shadows in the background of my faery courts. I hope you’re all happy wherever you are.
Over the years, a lot of folks touched my life in wonderful ways, so thanks to: Cheryl, Dave, and Dawn for being here through everything; Gene for many things; Alison, Kara, Jeep, Adrian, Janice, and Scott for pool halls, parties, and dances; Scott K. for being so real; Byron C. for bad habits and good poetry; Ingrid and Robin for conversation, music, and bars; Jeanette, Richard, and Erica for faith and fabulousness; Hunter for ivy vines and intensity; Matt, Harm, Brian, and Stacy (from Raleigh-Durham) and Derrick and Ken (from Seattle) for table dancing, exhibitionism, and the unexpected. I’m grateful to have your fingerprints on my life.
This time, I’m not going to list any of you in my today. You know who you are, and you know I think my life is better because you’re in it.
But, as always and ever, the daily debt of gratitude is to Loch. I’ll never figure out how you keep from locking me in an attic somewhere when I’m lost in the story or in a mood, or how you know what I need before I do. I love you.
About the Author
Melissa Marr : Although I was voted “most likely to end up in jail” in high school, I decided to get an MA and teach literature and gender studies to college students across the country. Along the way, I’ve been unable to resist trying new things—including working an archeological dig, slinging drinks at a biker bar, and getting fabulous tattoos.
I call all of this research for my writing. To fill my craving for new experiences, I’ve lived in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Southern California, and Virginia, and I plan to keep roaming with my family as widely and as often as possible.
Please help feed my addiction to meeting interesting people by visiting me on the Web at www.melissa-marr.com or follow me on Twitter@melissa_marr.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Also by Melissa Marr
Wicked Lovely
Ink Exchange
Fragile Eternity
Radiant Shadows
Wicked Lovely: Desert Tales
(Art by Xian Nu Studio)
Volume 1: Sanctuary
Volume 2: Challenge
Volume 3: Resolve
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