Darkest Mercy (30 page)

“But—”

“I love you, and I’m here with you.” He slid his hand over her cheek. “Nothing else matters.”

“You’ll die ,” she protested.

“Not today.” He covered her mouth with his and kissed her just as thoroughly as he had when he was a faery. His arms slid around her, and he

pulled her down beside him.

The fear of hurting him made her cautious, but he had no hesitation. His hand was at the buttons of her shirt.

Mortality hadn’t erased his deftness

with clothing removal either.

He leaned back for a moment to tug her shirt down her arms, with the same wicked, lovely smile that had first stolen her breath years ago.

“You know,” he said, “after centuries, there aren’t too many things I can think of that I’ve wanted to try but haven’t.”

“Oh?” Cautiously, she slid her hands over his chest.

“Mm-hmm.” His fingertips traced her collarbone and down her arm, while his other hand unzipped her skirt.

She lifted her hips for him to remove her skirt.

“What did . . .” she started, but her words vanished as he leaned over and kissed her hip.

A few moments later, he whispered against her skin, “You know what I’ve never done?”

Absently, she realized that while he had distracted her with one hand, he’d used his other hand to remove the pajama pants she’d put on him.

With effort she forced her eyes to stay open and meet his gaze. “What’s that?”

“Made love as a mortal.” He breathed the words against her stomach. Between kisses and caresses, he asked,

“Do you suppose you could

help me? Be my first? My only? My till-death-do-we-part?”

“Keenan . . .”

He kissed his way up her stomach and chest until he was stretched out on top of her. “I will love you every minute of every day of my life.”

Tenderness they’d shared before; passion they’d shared before; but the desperation she felt was new. His words broke her heart. “I don’t want

you to die,” she sobbed. “We just—”

“I’m here with you in your bed, Donia. Neither of us died today.” He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “Make love with me?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Unless you want to wait until after the wedding . . .”

More tears slipped from the corners of her eyes even as a small laugh escaped her lips. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands.

“No.” He looked nervous for a moment. “But you are going to marry me, aren’t you, Donia?”

“I am,” she promised. “But I don’t really want to wait until after the wedding. You already have my vow. You had it years ago when I promised you

forever alongside a hawthorn bush.”

“And you have mine. I’m yours for as long as I live. Only yours. My vow on it.” He lowered his lips to hers, and they celebrated the life, the

moment, the time they had together.

Chapter 41

As Aislinn and Seth reached the parts of Huntsdale untouched by the violence of the day, the Summer Guards stepped away. They looked at

Aislinn expectantly. One of them, a Summer Girl Seth had never seen looking anything other than giddy, nodded.

“We will handle what remains to

be done here.”

“Run with me, Seth.” Aislinn squeezed his hand in hers, and then before the next breath, she took off.

Unlike when he was mortal, Seth could run without holding on to her now, but he would hold on to her forever if he could. So he held tightly to her

hand, and together they sped through the snow-covered streets of Huntsdale.

Once they crossed the threshold of the area where Summer held dominion, more rowan guards stood waiting.

They looked at her with a new

intensity, and Seth knew that the question that had stood between them was about to be answered for better or worse.

Faeries were filtering into the park around them. As they passed Aislinn, many of them touched her, a brief brush of fingertips over her arm or

her hair. They didn’t speak, but their expressions relaxed at the sight of her.

Aislinn kept hold of his hand, but with her free hand, she motioned for him to wait. “You’ve kept secrets from me.”

“Only one,” Seth said.

“You see the future.”

“Yeah.” Seth gave her a wry smile. “But not the parts I wanted to see.”

The Summer Queen looked up at the sky, and a warm rain shower began. The Summer Court faeries raised their arms and let the rain wash

away the dirt and blood from their skin. Flowers and grass grew in vibrant waves of color across the ground at the Summer Queen’s feet. Her

clothes were clinging to her body, and her hair was hanging in wet tendrils.

Like a pagan goddess.

As faeries began to dance slowly, she looked not at Seth, but at her court. “I told you we would revel once the danger was past. We are here,

alive, and your fallen family would not want tears.” A faery queen.

“How do we remember?” Aislinn called.

The faeries around them caught hands, entangled arms and legs, and watched their queen. They answered:

“In joy.”

“In living.”

“In celebrating.”

Aislinn sighed, and the heat of Summer rolled out over the park. “Rejoice as Summer should.” She smiled, and rainbows arced over the

assembled fey. “Chase away sorrow by living.” Then she turned to Seth and added, “Celebrate.” After the horrors of the past days, the fight with Bananach, the time in Faerie, being caged by his friend, seeing— and feeling —the loss of so

many faeries, he wanted the joy that the Summer Court was allowing themselves. Drenched faeries cavorted around them, almost frantic in their

revelry, as if they were taking pleasure for themselves and for their fallen brethren.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked.

And Seth caught her hand in his again. “Yes.” Vaguely, he was aware that summer fey were cheering, but it seemed distant. Everything was distant, except for the faery holding his hand.

My reason. My everything .

Part of him wanted her to say the words, but the rest of him couldn’t care less. If he had to let her go tomorrow, he would, but tonight she was his.

Silently, he followed her away from her faeries, across the street, and to the loft.

Aislinn opened the door to the building. “Be welcome in my home, Seth.”

He stilled. “Pretty formal.”

“Things have changed.” She smiled enigmatically and walked inside.

He reached out to grab Aislinn’s hand again, but as he did so, she was already at the top of the first flight of stairs.

She leaned over the railing and smiled. “You’re awfully far away.”

Vines raced along the railing and burst into flower. Lilac petals rained down all around him as he stared up at her.

“Once you asked me to stop running so you could catch me,” she said. “Do you remember?”

“You were mortal then.” He started up the stairs, not running, but skipping stairs as he went.

She watched him. “So were you.”

“And now?” He was only a few steps away from her.

She laughed and ran up the second flight of stairs.

Seth followed, not as fast as she was, but fast enough that she hadn’t opened the door yet. He put a hand flat on the door and leaned close to

her. “So am I to chase you, Ash?”

“When I was mortal, you told me that you’d waited for me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Vines threaded down from her hair and

twisted behind him. “Lately, I’ve been the one waiting.”

“Losing you would destroy me.” He breathed the words against her neck. He’d thought about her while he was Niall’s prisoner, thought about

never holding her in his arms again. “But I love you, and tonight I need—”

“Ask me. Ask me to choose.”

“Tonight, it doesn’t have to matter. I’m here either way.” Seth didn’t want to speak his fears; when he’d thought he would never see her again, he

couldn’t remember why he’d wasted the nights they could’ve had.

“ Ask me, Seth,” she urged.

And he didn’t need to ask the question. He saw that in her eyes, felt it in the way she was wrapped around him. Here.

Now. He covered her

mouth with his and kissed her the way he had when they first fell in love. When he pulled back, he asked, “And the Summer King?”

“There is no Summer King.” Aislinn reached behind her and opened the door. “He gave up his court.”

“He . . . gave it up ?” Seth echoed. Of all the things he’d thought she might have told him, Keenan giving up his court wasn’t anywhere on the list.

“He . . . How? When? Why?”

“When I told him that I’d made my choice, he left.” Aislinn looked at Seth. “We both want to be with the ones we love.”

He’d imagined hearing that she was truly his, dreamed of it, but in that moment, all he could do was kiss her. Seth lifted her into his arms and

crossed the threshold from the hallway into the loft with her.

When he lowered her feet to the floor, she backed away, out of his arms, out of reach. “The Summer Court is strongest when its regent is happy.

Do you know what makes me happy?”

When he tried to step forward, vines tangled around his legs. He glanced down at them.

She waited for him to look at her and said, “ You make me happy, Seth. Always. Only you. For eternity.” Seth pulled free of the vines that twisted around his ankles as Aislinn laughed and ran from the room.

Faeries chase.

He caught her in the hallway, and she stayed still long enough for him to kiss her breathless before she twisted away again, slipping from his

grasp as if she was sunlight darting away.

“Catch me, Seth,” she invited.

He paused.

“Faeries chase,” he said, and then, with a flirtatious smile, he turned away, but before he could take a second step, she was behind him, arms

around him, lips pressed against his neck.

“I seem caught,” he murmured.

The Summer Queen whispered, “Me too.” And they fell together into the bed of flowers that now covered the floor.

Epilogue

A year later . . .

He knelt before her.

“Is this what you freely choose, to accept winter’s chill?” she asked him—the faery she’d fallen in love with so many years ago. She’d dreamed

that they would be together forever, but not like this. It was so strange and beautiful that she couldn’t look away.

“It’s what I want,” he assured her again.

“You understand that if this doesn’t work . . .” He paused, glancing at her with pain in his eyes. “I’ll still be here. If you don’t want to risk it . . . I’m still here either way. We don’t need to do this if

you aren’t sure.”

“Keenan—”

“But I am willing to take the chance if it’s what we both want,” he said quietly. “I would spend eternity in the Winter with you, even if it means being

your subject.” He paused before adding, “Irial and Niall say it should work.”

Discord says it’s a good idea. That’s comforting.

Donia pushed back her fears. “But if they’re wrong . . .”

“It’s what I freely choose,” he repeated.

She walked over to the hawthorn bush they’d planted together last year. The leaves brushed against her arms as she bent down and reached

under it. Her fingers wrapped around the Winter Queen’s staff. It was a plain thing, worn from the countless hands that had clenched the wood.

Please let this work.

She stood and held it out to him; he wrapped his hand around it.

He clutched the Winter Queen’s staff—and she hoped. For a moment she thought they were wrong, as she watched him falter. She felt the

tendrils of Winter slide into his skin, the shards of ice fill his veins. The staff was an extension of her, and she felt the pain of it all over again as

Keenan’s body was remade.

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.