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Even standing on the still snow-covered ground, the Summer Queen had her court’s impulsivity. She persisted, “He loves you. The only reason he wants me is because he was cursed. If not for that, he would’ve chosen you. You know that. We all do.”
Donia paused, but didn’t turn around.
“Donia?”
The Winter Queen glanced over her shoulder. “You make it difficult to hate you, Ash.”
Aislinn smiled. “Good . . . but that’s not why I said that. I mean it. He—”
“I know,” Donia interrupted before the Summer Queen could begin another passionate outburst. “I need to travel tonight. The slight snow I scatter here will determine what happens elsewhere. If there is nothing else?”
“There is, actually,” Aislinn started.
“No more talk of him.”
“No, not him.” Aislinn bit her lip, looking like the nervous mortal she had once been.
Donia looked at her expectantly. “Well?”
“I don’t know if your court has . . . lost anyone, but some of my faeries have left. Not many, but some.” Aislinn’s voice faltered a little. “I’m trying to do right, but I’m suddenly the only regent, and they’ve been weakened for nine centuries, so used to doing . . . whatever they want.”
Despite everything she felt toward Aislinn over the situation they were in, Donia softened at the worry obvious in the Summer Queen’s voice. She knew as well as Aislinn did that none of their issues were by their own choice. Or Keenan’s, truth be told. Donia sighed. “My court has lost faeries too. It’s not you, Ash.”
“Good. Well, not good, but . . . I thought maybe it was me.” The Summer Queen blushed. “I’m trying, but I’m not sure if I’m messing up sometimes. He promised to help me figure this out, but I don’t know where he is, and I’m not even sure they’re mine to lead.”
“They are yours.” Donia narrowed her gaze at the doubt in Aislinn’s voice. “You are the Summer Queen—with or without a king, this is your court, Ash. They don’t make as much sense to me as Winter or Dark . . . or even the High Court, but I do understand faeries. Don’t let them see your doubts. Frighten them if you must. Wear whatever mask you need to convince them you are sure—even when you’re not. . . . Actually, especially when you’re not. Bananach is luring our fey to her, and we can’t be weak.”
As Donia spoke, slivers of ice extended into small daggers in both of her hands. It was instinctual, but it proved her point all the more.
“Right.” Aislinn’s expression shifted into something more regal. “It gets easier sooner or later, doesn’t it?”
Donia snorted. “Not yet, but it had better . . . or maybe we just get used to it.”
“How did he do it without the strength we have?” Aislin
n asked tentatively, bringing him back into the conversation.
And to that, the Winter Queen had no answer. She shook her head. It was a question she’d been asking for most of her life. She couldn’t imagine dealing with her court with her powers bound. “Advisors. Friends. Stubbornness.”
“People who believed in him,” Aislinn added with a bold stare. “You believed in him enough to die for him, Donia. Don’t think either of us will forget that. If not for you, I wouldn’t be their queen, and he wouldn’t be unbound.”
At that, Donia paused and asked the question she’d wondered in silence: “Do you regret it?”
“Some days,” Aislinn said. “When I think about fighting the embodiment of war? Yeah, I regret it a little. Life was a lot easier when I thought all faeries were ‘evil.’ Now I worry about keeping them from dying, ruling them, trying to be a queen, and dealing with the impulses that aren’t me but Summer. Sometimes it’s like being me and someone else all at once . . . if that makes any sense. I’m not impulsive, or, umm, so concerned with pleasure, but Summer is—and I’m Summer. It’s like fitting parts of a season into me. You know?”
“I do.” Donia nodded as the ice in her hands retracted. “I thought the ice was going to kill me when I was the Winter Girl, so becoming a queen was a lot easier. I like the calm, the sense of quiet. Before, it wasn’t easy. I carried the pain of the cold without being at peace for decades, so being filled with winter and having the power to handle it . . . I don’t regret that—or the choices I made. Any of them.”
They stood silently for a moment, and then Aislinn nodded. “I can do this. We can . . . even with our mortal ‘taint.’”
Donia smiled. “Indeed. I will talk to Niall and Sorcha. Niall has a bit of sympathy for mortals—and for your court, however much he may try to deny it—so he’s been plagued by the same sort of unrest that Bananach has provoked in our courts. We can do this, Ash, without Keenan, without failing our courts or breaking under our natures.”
And in that minute, Donia believed it.
Chapter 4
Aislinn walked toward the edge of the park where her guards waited. She’d considered keeping them nearer to her, but she’d wanted to show Donia that they were rebuilding trust. Aislinn was still wary of the Winter Queen—and didn’t entirely understand why Donia had thought it was necessary to stab her last year—but she knew enough about the Winter Queen and Summer King’s love that she had resolved the stabbing as an act of passion. Aislinn understood passion. There were a lot of things she still didn’t grasp, but as the embodiment of the season of pleasure, she had no difficulty accepting that passion could make a faery impulsive, desperate, and sometimes utterly irrational.
She paused and looked at the trees that lined the sidewalk. They were still coated in snow, but spring was only a few weeks away, so she exhaled and melted the frozen branches. In these next two weeks, she’d continue to grow stronger, and as Donia wasn’t going to try to prolong winter, there was no reason not to begin warming the earth now. Her skin tingled with the realization that summer was in reach.
