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“No, she didn’t,” Tavish said. “He knew what she was, knew she doubted him, yet he still tried to treat her the way one treats a summer faery. Aislinn would let you lie with her. The court knows it; you know it. Even now, with her Seth returned to her, you could seduce her. Seth knows this of her. He loves her still.”
“I understand, but now is not the right time. She will be worrying over Seth’s capture once she learns of it and . . . it would be wrong.” Keenan heard the objections in his words, knew they sounded weak. Once, he would’ve done anything to woo the destined queen. He had done and said things that made him cringe afterward.
It’s different. I know Ash. I respect her.
Tavish kept his gaze fixed on Keenan and asked, “How would you feel if Donia took a lover?”
“She hasn’t,” Keenan snapped. “She’s not like summer fey.”
“You are not only Summer, my King,” Tavish reminded him. “There is more of your mother in you than you like to admit. You cannot look at me and say that you are truly trying your best to lure your queen to your side, that you are doing all you could to strengthen this court. Can you?”
“I’ve not objected to the pleasures of Summer before. The Summer Girls . . . and the revelries . . .” Keenan’s words died at the chastising look on his friend’s face. “If Aislinn accepted me, I would lie with her now even though she loves the morta— Seth.”
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“You would, yet you haven’t. You refused her when she offered herself to you; you chose not to seduce her for months when he was away. She wanted you, still does, yet you do not take her into your bed.” Tavish folded his hands in his lap and stared at his king. “You didn’t love the Summer Girls enough to mind sharing them. Nor do you love my queen enough. It is not her connection to Seth that bothers you. Since you spent the Winter Solstice before last with Donia, you haven’t—”
“I’ve lived my life to reach the point of strength for this court,” Keenan interrupted.
“I know.” Tavish reached out and gripped Keenan’s shoulder.
The Summer King looked at the faery who’d been the closest thing to a father that he’d ever known, and he knew that any further protestations he could offer would be pointless. Tavish knew him, saw through any illusions that Keenan would like to embrace. Keenan had not pursued Aislinn as truly as he could have. He’d pursued her until she accepted the challenge of becoming queen, but after he’d spent time in Donia’s arms, he had accepted Aislinn’s rejections, had even helped her create them.
“Don’t try to deceive either of us, my King. You’ve done what you needed. You were steadfast in your devotion to the court. You became everything you had to be in order to be your father’s heir. Having the faery you love in your arms has changed you. I can see it, even if most of the court cannot.” Tavish’s voice was gentle, helping lead them both to the sentences that had never been spoken, admissions that Keenan had considered in silence. “There are those meant to be sunlit and those who are not ever going to be at peace with the way things are in this court. Maybe you would feel differently if Aislinn were the Summer Queen in truth, if she gave up her lover.”
“She might.”
“Keenan?” Aislinn came through the doorway. “Why are you out here?”
“You need to make a choice, Keenan.” Tavish squeezed Keenan’s shoulder. “I would not fault you for either one, nor should you. If the court is to be strong enough to stand against Bananach, the time is here. No more prevarication. No more excuses. Sorcha is locked away; Niall is unwell; Donia is new to ruling; and our court is not as strong as it must be.”
Keenan turned his gaze to the Summer Queen. He felt a nervous excitement build in his skin. His entire life had been about finding her. He’d thought it was that simple. His lips curled in a smile. Simple? Nothing about this curse had ever been simple.
After nine centuries, it all comes down to one day.
Chapter 27
Aislinn looked from her advisor to her king. The seriousness in Tavish’s expression was not unfamiliar, but Keenan’s strangely bemused smile worried her. “Tavish? Keenan?”
Her advisor bowed his head. “I will be with the Summer Girls,” he said, and then he left her there in the humid conservatory with Keenan.
Once it was just them, Keenan walked toward her slowly. “I need you to do something, Aislinn.”
“Okaaay. . . .” She reached out and stroked her fingers along a vat of soil. Under her hand, plants began to sprout. She wasn’t sure yet what they were, but she was unable to resist touching the soil. “What’s up?”
He took her hand in his. “Walk with me?”
The nervousness Aislinn felt grew as they left the conservatory. The Summer Court’s space, where we are strong. She squeezed his hand. “Talk to me. Please?”
The Summer King released her hand and stepped away from her. He looked only at her and asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Keenan—”
“Aislinn, please,” he interrupted. “Do you trust me?”
“I do,” she assured him. All around them, the park was empty. The Summer Girls, the rowan, all of the faeries of the court were out of sight.
As they stood face-to-face in the park where they’d once danced, where they’d kissed, where they’d argued, and where they’d both led their court in revels—together and separately—Keenan said, “I’ve misled you.”
