Wicked Lovely

by Melissa Marr

  She lifted her chin again. “No. I am keeping him. There’s no asking involved.”

  He didn’t argue, didn’t point out how finite mortals were. He didn’t tell her that he’d waited for her, her alone, for his whole life. He didn’t remind her of how they’d laughed and danced at the faire. None of that mattered. Not now. All that mattered was that she was saying yes.

  “Is that all?” he asked gently.

  “For now.” Her voice was thin then, no longer filled with temper or aggression. She seemed lost for a moment, and then, hesitantly, she asked, “So?”

  He wanted to rejoice, to sweep her into his arms until she recanted her terms, to weep that she was saying no at the same time as she said yes. Instead he said, “So, my queen, we find Donia.”

  He pulled out his cell and punched in Donia’s number. She was out—or ignoring him—so he left a message to call him.

  After he disconnected, he sent guards to find her.

  “I know where she lives,” Aislinn murmured. “I can meet you there. You could call me and—”

  “No. We’ll wait together.” Now that she was here beside him, Keenan was utterly unwilling to let her out of his sight until it was done. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be willing to let her out of his sight. “Whether you see it as a job or not, you are my queen, the one I’ve waited for. I will be by your side.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. “Remember how you asked about starting over”—she glanced nervously at him—“can we for real this time? Try to be friends, then? It’s going to be a lot easier if we try to get along, right?” She held out her hand as if she were going to shake his hand.

  “Friends,” he said, taking her hand in his. The absurdity of it struck him then—his destined queen saw their reign as a job shared by friends. In all his dreams of finding his queen, of finally reaching this point, Keenan hadn’t ever imagined it would be a strained attempt at friendship.

  After she pulled her hand free, they stood awkwardly for a moment until he asked, “So where would you go if I weren’t with you?”

  “To Seth’s.” She blushed, lightly.

  Keenan had expected as much; Aislinn seemed to turn to her mortal—to Seth, he corrected himself—more and more. Keenan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile and announced, “I would like to meet him.” I can do this.

  “Really?” She looked more suspicious than surprised. Her forehead creased in a small frown. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “He is a part of our lives now.”

  “Yeah…”

  “So I should meet him.” He walked away so she couldn’t see his face, pausing as he turned the corner to ask, “Shall we?”

  CHAPTER 29

  Their favourite camp and resting-place is under a hawthorn tree…[which is] sacred to the fairies, and generally [stands] in the centre of a fairy ring.

  —Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland by Lady Francesca Speranza Wilde (1887)

  Aislinn stood motionless as Keenan walked on. Some of the guards waited behind her; others shifted in front of Keenan, like a moving fence around them.

  “Introduce you to Seth,” she tested the words on her tongue. It made a certain amount of sense to introduce them. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself, hoping it would loosen the tightness in her chest.

  They walked like that—in tense silence—until they were almost at the railroad yard.

  “He’s a good person, your Seth?”

  “He is.” She smiled to herself; she couldn’t help it.

  Several of the guards pulled back with pained expressions as they stepped into the railroad lot.

  Keenan had a strange, half-bemused smile as he murmured, “I’ve not spent much time around mortal males. The ones I’ve known haven’t seemed very friendly when I’ve courted the other girls.”

  She choked on a laugh. “You think?”

  “What?” Suspicion crept into his voice.

  “Keenan, you’re gorgeous. You’ve got this whole”—she gestured at his khakis and dark green pullover, casual on most people, stunning on him—“drop-dead amazing thing going for you. Most girls probably trip over themselves to talk to you.”

  “Most, but”—he paused to give her a wry smile—“not all.”

  She glanced at Seth’s still-closed door before saying, “I still noticed how you looked.”

  “Of course. You’re mortal.” He shrugged as if her admission was to be expected.

  And she supposed it probably was. Seeing him without his glamour was like looking at a perfect sunrise over the ocean, like seeing a meteor shower in the desert, and then having someone ask if you wanted to keep it for your very own.

  She bit her cheek to stop from laughing at the idea of him trying to befriend Mitchell or Jimmy or almost any of their friends. They weren’t anywhere near secure enough to go out in public with Keenan—even if he wore a glamour to look common. A half-swallowed laugh slipped out, and he frowned briefly at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said with only a trace of laughter. Then she had another thought. “Do the faeries treat you like that too?”

  “I am the Summer King.” He frowned again, looking confused.

  Aislinn did laugh then, a full-out belly laugh.

  “What?” he asked yet again.

  Still trying to quell her laughter, Aislinn motioned to Niall.

  Hesitantly he said, “My queen?”

  “If you approach a faery, a girl, does she, umm, always reciprocate your interest?” Aislinn watched his face grow as confused as Keenan’s had.

  “I am the king’s advisor. The Summer Girls have desires—” He glanced at Keenan, as if seeking approval. Keenan shrugged. “Our king has only so many hours to relax. The guards and Tavish and I do our best to keep the girls content.”

  Her laughter fled.

  Turning from one faery to the other, she asked, “How many girls are there?”

  Keenan lifted a hand in a waiting gesture. Then he looked at Niall and said, “No more than four score now?”

  Niall nodded.

  Keenan added, “They are far too numerous to care for without help.”

  Aislinn asked incredulously, “So no one says no?”

  “Of course they do—not to Keenan—but to us.” Niall gave her a look that said he clearly found her questions as baffling as Keenan had. “But then one of the others is there. They are Summer Girls, my queen. Summer is for the pleasures, the frivolity, the—”

  “Got it,” she interrupted. “So your court—”

  “Our court,” Keenan interjected.

  “Right. Our court is rather affectionate?”

  It was Keenan’s turn to laugh. “They are…. But they also crave the dance, music, laughter….” He grabbed her and spun her in a circle, letting his glamour drop for a moment so warm sun spilled over her. “We are not cold as the Winter Court or cruel as the Dark Court. We are not restrained as the High Court is, hiding away in their otherworld.”

  Aislinn caught the guards smiling at them, looking happier as Keenan laughed. She felt happier too, and she wondered if it was because she, too, was one of the Summer Court now.

  She shook off the languor and asked, “So the faeries that hurt people aren’t ours?”

  Keenan’s smile faded as quickly as it had come.

  “Many are not, but some still are. Once we are strong”—he paused and took her hand and stared at her so intently she had to fight not to run—“we can do more to stop them. The Summer Court is the most volatile of the courts, passionate. Without the guidance my father gave them, not all have limited their passions to honorable pursuits. We have much work to do.”

  “Oh,” Aislinn said. The enormity of what she’d agreed to undertake suddenly settled on her, seeming impossibly daunting.

  Keenan must have seen the worry in her expression, for he quickly added, “But we shall relax as well. The Summer Court is a place of dance and desire.
To only work would be as untrue to our nature as it would be to allow the darker things to go unpunished.”

  “It’s pretty huge, what I’m agreeing to do. Isn’t it?” She clenched her hands in tight fists to keep them from shaking.

  His voice was cautious as he agreed, “It is.”

  “What do I, I don’t know, do?”

  “You rouse the earth when the winter needs to loosen its grip; you dream the spring with me.” He took her hands—unfolding her fingers so that her palms lay open atop his—and said, “Close your eyes.”

  She trembled, but she did as he asked. She felt his breath on her face as he spoke in soft whispers.

  He said, “And they dreamed slender roots sinking into the soil and furred creatures stretching in their dens, dreamed fish racing the currents, field mice weaving through the grasses, and serpents basking on the rocks. Then the Summer King and Queen smiled at the new life they’d called to wake.”

  And she could see it—the world stretching like a giant beast too long asleep, shaking off the snow that had kept it dormant too long. She felt her body glowing, knew that she was glowing, and she didn’t want to stop. She could see the white willow that she’d heard rustling in the breeze when she’d first seen Keenan; she could taste that fragile scent of spring flowers. Together they would stir the creatures, the earth itself. They would look on the waking world and rejoice.

  As she opened her eyes to look at him, she realized that she was weeping. “It’s so…huge. The things that need to start to live again…How will I? We? What if I fail?”

  Keenan cupped her cheek in his hand briefly. “We won’t.”

  “And the rest? The court stuff?” She wiped her cheeks, trying not to flinch as she saw that the tears were golden. Hurriedly she tucked her hands into her pockets and resumed walking. “I don’t know how to rule anyone.”

  He shrugged when he strode up alongside her. “So you learn. I’ll be there. I do know how to rule. But today we don’t think about all that. That’s the beauty of summer as well. There are balls to have and dancing to be done. If we rejoice, our court will, too. It is as much a duty as waking the earth.”

  “Right, sounds like an easy job. Wake the earth, rule the unruly, repair the broken stuff, and party.” She swallowed with difficulty as they stepped into Seth’s lot, anxious both at the enormity of the task and at the strangeness of telling Seth. “I guess anyone could handle that little list?”

  “No, but the Summer Queen can,” Keenan assured her; then he favored her with one last blinding smile before he turned his attention to the opening door and said, “Today, though, we begin with only the first step. I meet my queen’s beloved and try to befriend a mortal, yes?”

  “Yeah. That one is doable.” She shook her head as if to shake away the stress, but then she looked up.

  Seth stood waiting as patiently as he did any other day. The rest of her worries, her changes, the world itself faded. How will Seth feel?

  She had a flash of worry that things would seem weird after last night, that he wouldn’t still want her, that he’d be angry that she brought the faeries to his home. But he wasn’t freaking out—about them or the faeries all around her. Aside from her and Keenan, they’d all stayed invisible, but she knew Seth could see them and that he was pretty aware of who it was that stood beside her.

  Seth’s expression was unreadable, but he held out a hand and said, “Hey.”

  Then the court, Keenan, Niall, the guards—it was all forgotten as she slipped into Seth’s arms.

  After watching Aislinn’s and her mortal’s faces, Keenan found it much easier to believe that his queen was making the only choice she could. He knew that look, had seen it in the eyes of several girls, had seen it in Donia’s eyes.

  “Come on.” Seth motioned for him to follow. Then he stopped and looked at Aislinn. “If he…”

  She paused. “Umm. Can you come in here?”

  “I can.” Keenan exchanged a brief look with Niall at Seth’s obvious awareness of what he was and of the fey aversion to steel.

  What else has she said to him? His curiosity piqued, he added, “Cold iron doesn’t harm a monarch.”

  Seth didn’t miss a beat. He quirked his eyebrow and said, “Guess that means you’re Keenan.”

  Aislinn winced. Niall and the guards froze. Keenan laughed. Here’s a brazen one. “I am.”

  “Well, since the house won’t make you sick…” Seth let his words fade away as he led Aislinn inside.

  Keenan followed them into the dim interior. It was tiny, but well kept. His first thought was that Donia would find it appealing—if not for her inability to be around so much steel.

  “You want anything?” Seth was in his small kitchen area, putting some sort of rice dish in his microwave. “Ash needs to eat.”

  “I’m fine.” She blushed.

  “Did you eat yet today?” Seth waited briefly, and when she didn’t answer he turned back to his cupboards and began getting out dishes.

  Keenan’s positive opinion of Seth increased.

  “I’m, umm, going to do it. The queen thing,” Aislinn said in a shy voice. She sat down on one end of the sofa.

  “Figured that when you brought him.” Seth tossed a bottle of water to Aislinn and looked expectantly at Keenan.

  He held a hand out and caught the water Seth tossed to him.

  The microwave dinged. No one spoke for a moment while Seth gathered the food.

  Then he asked, “So what’s that mean for us?”

  “Nothing, I don’t think.” Aislinn glanced at Keenan. “It was one of my terms for taking the job.”

  Keenan settled on one of the garish chairs and waited.

  “School?” Seth handed her a bowl of food as he sat beside her. Some slight tension left him as Aislinn put her legs up and leaned back against him.

  “That’s good too,” she said.

  Seth was handling the situation with considerable aplomb, but Keenan didn’t miss the mortal’s possessive gestures—the casual touches that announced a physical connection to Aislinn.

  Once he’d given Aislinn her meal, Seth turned to Keenan. “So now what happens?”

  “Aislinn comes with me to see Donia and becomes a queen.” Keenan kept his irritation at being questioned under control. They both wanted the same thing—Aislinn’s well-being.

  Seth looked truly ill at ease. “Will it hurt her?”

  Aislinn seemed startled by the question, fork full of food held in midair.

  “No,” Keenan said. “And afterward, there’s not much in your world or mine that can seriously hurt her.”

  “What about the other one, the Winter Queen?” Seth had entangled his hand in Aislinn’s hair, stroking it absently while he spoke.

  “She still can. Monarchs can wound or kill one another.”

  “Monarchs like you,” Seth prompted. “You can hurt her.”

  “I will not.” Keenan looked at Aislinn, curled up against Seth, seeming happy. It was what he wanted for her, happiness. There was little she could ask that he’d deny—even if that meant she would be in another’s arms for now. “I gave her my vow.”

  They sat there then, in silence as Aislinn ate, until finally she asked, “Can Seth come with us?”

  “No. No mortals, not at the test. It would not be safe for him,” Keenan answered carefully, resisting the urge to cringe at the danger of a mortal there. Even without the Sight, the glare would be blinding when his power was unbound, when Aislinn’s power slid into her.

  Aislinn put her bowl aside and moved into Seth’s lap.

  Keenan didn’t miss the tension around her eyes. He took a steadying breath and added, “Afterward, though, you could bring him to the Rath with us. He can join us to celebrate.”

  “What about seeing them…us”—she corrected herself before Keenan could—“giving him the Sight so it’s easier.”

  “A monarch can authorize that.” Keenan smiled at her attention to detail. She truly would make a wonderful q
ueen.

  “So if you—”

  “Or you, Aislinn,” he interjected.

  “Right. If one of us approved it, it would be okay to find a way for him to see us?” she continued with a strange almost-fearful note in her voice.

  “I already approve it. We’d just need to get the ingredients. I have a book at the loft.” Keenan didn’t miss their exchange. “Unless you’ve already found such a recipe?”

  Neither answered. They didn’t have to. He cursed softly, knowing exactly where they would’ve found such a recipe. Who else could have given them such a thing? He dropped that subject and said, “We’ll need to work on you learning to hide your emotions better than that. Both of you. Now that Aislinn is summer fey, her emotions will be more volatile. It is the nature of our court.”

  At Seth’s quirked brow, Keenan sighed. “You’ll be around enough that it’d be useful for you, too. There are things you might do well to know if you’re to be with my queen.”

  Aislinn said nothing, but Seth’s expression tensed. He held Keenan’s gaze for several heartbeats, and Keenan realized that the mortal was not unaware of their inevitable competition for Aislinn’s attention.

  Keenan’s respect for Seth grew. The mortal loved Aislinn enough to stay beside her despite the odds against him. It was an admirable quality.

  And as they spoke—not about the court or the future, but simply talking, trying to learn more about each other—Keenan found it surprisingly tolerable to sit with his queen and her lover.

  He was still relieved, though, when Donia called to let him know that she was home, waiting for them, and to hurry. Beira’s hags had been riding all over Huntsdale, wreaking havoc. Fey from the High Court had already begun to leave town, unwilling to stay while things were in upheaval.

  Of course, they won’t stay.

  He sighed. It’d be nice to have at least one other court that tried to stop trouble rather than start it or run from it.

  When he hung up, Keenan told Aislinn and Seth of Donia’s comments, and they made ready to depart.

  Aislinn looked anxious at leaving Seth, despite his murmured assurances that he’d see her shortly.