When they arrived at the dingy town of Huntsdale a few weeks later, Donia thought she might have to seek out the Summer King and question his sanity. She had decided she wasn’t agreeing to his request to court her, although she would have to see him soon to share that decision. Her heart missed Keenan, but her head wasn’t seeing the point when the courting could lead to nothing.
Her heart objected.
And so she’d avoided any contact with him. Now, however, they settled in this new town, undoubtedly to find the next mortal girl.
The town was not thriving. She remembered the poverty she’d known and seen in her mortal years, but this wasn’t much better. The town had a lot of alcoholism, despair, and a desperation to “get out.” She’d seen that over the years, sometimes in the girls Keenan chose. She wouldn’t admit it, but sometimes she thought he knew this or that girl wasn’t the one he needed, but he still wanted to save them. In a few cases, Donia had wondered if the curse of eternity with the Summer Court was anything other than a gift.
Trust him to find ways to use a curse to help people.
Donia smiled to herself. He really did have a good heart and a drive to rescue those in need—which was why she was questioning why he’d brought them here to a city of steel and sorrow. Huntsdale was thick with steel-laden train yards and steel buildings, brick structures decorated in wrought-iron balconies.
The ground outside the city even had an unusual stink of iron in the soil itself. The majority of the fey who were seeking shelter here would find the town deadly. Donia was no exception.
“What are we doing here?” she whispered. Only the guards might hear, but the worst that could come of her question was a conversation after a guard reported her words to the Winter Queen or the Summer King.
“It’s covered in steel,” Donia continued.
Sasha, her wolf companion, joined her as Donia found them a cottage outside the iron-laden city. Her temporary home was in one of the few wooded areas in reach of Huntsdale. It was small and isolated, and she knew that both the Winter Queen and the Summer King would hate it. Beira was fond of old elegant homes and servants. Keenan had never moved beyond the need to live with a crowd.
Donia couldn’t blame him entirely. The Summer Girls depended on him the way plants relied on the sun and soil. Having his advisors there was another matter altogether. For centuries, they’d shared homes, and to be truthful, she found it peculiar. Keenan argued that families lived together, but it wasn’t the same. Sasha was all the company Donia needed—and Sasha was out roaming as often as possible.
The way Keenan filled whatever home he had with caged wildlife was another confusion point for her. Birds weren’t meant to be indoors; she was certain of it. Admittedly, however, the reptiles Keenan collected likely benefitted from the Summer King’s presence. Many living creatures did. He was the sun, warm and nourishing. He evoked joy and passion. His temper might be fierce and destructive, but rage was rare. Mostly, the Summer King was a pleasure to be near.
I would benefit in his presence, she thought. The Winter Girl reminded herself of that often. Keenan had chosen her, and now she was in daily pain. His love was bad for her.
Even though it felt so natural and right.
Feelings weren’t always enough. Relationships—especially with a king—were not easy. Keenan was a cursed faery king,
He’s not mine.
Donia felt a bit like an old woman sometimes, and lately, she’d realize that she’d been in this world as long as many a grandmother. And she’d been alone for most of it. No child. No spouse. She’d spent years as if in stasis. Her body, however, was not changed from when she’d been a girl. Loving Keenan had led to immortality, and as time passed, she started to think that eternity, at least, might have been a gift.
She was as strong as when she was mortal. Her health was unchanged—aside from the weakened state that iron caused and the constant chill of winter inside her body. Unless she was murdered, Donia had eternity in front of her. Sometimes she thought about the future, but in her imagination Keenan was still there. What foolishness it had been to fall in love with a faery!
I can resist him.
She thought about Rika, who had no love left for Keenan but whose heart was as surely walled up as if it had been made stone. Suffering under a curse did terrible things to a woman’s ability to trust—and worse still, the only ones she could love were faeries. Mortals aged and died. So, Donia was caught in an in-between, nurturing her mistrust for faeries because of the curse, yet somehow still loving Keenan.
In truth, she was lonely.
She always thought—hoped—that eventually the fey could have their revelries among the trees near where she would make her home. In every city, she thought of it, hoped for it, but they never did. They wouldn’t. No one got too close to her, as if Keenan still had a claim—or maybe they were simply afraid to draw the attention of the Winter Queen.
Beira was the worst of winter. She seemed to have forgotten the beauty of the first snow after a hot summer, or the gentle breeze that swirled snow into ephemeral images. Beira had become rage, blizzards, and pain. And many faeries were terrified of her.
Sometimes Donia was, too.
The rush of warm air outside the door heralded his appearance. There was no way to avoid the Summer King.
Before he could knock, Donia opened her door and stepped back. “Come in.”
He smiled, beautiful and tempting, wicked and lovely, and her heart broke a little more. “You said when we arrived at the next place.”
“It usually takes longer,” she pointed out, stalling on telling him that she couldn’t let him court her.
He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”
“But here?” Donia motioned outside. “This city is not . . . normal for you. There’s so much steel. A thriving railroad, and--”
“It’s where a faery queen would hide,” Keenan explained. “The steel would protect her. I’d felt summoned here before, but I’d resisted, thinking I was wrong. Now, I feel it again. We’ve never looked in such places, thinking she couldn’t bear the stench of iron either. If she carries the sunlight, surely, she’ll be like us in some ways . . . but what if that was wrong? I thought this was what we missed, and when I felt called.”
“You felt called here, then?” Donia pressed. She wasn’t entirely sure how it worked. Why this girl but not that one? How did he know? Or was it completely random?
“She’s mortal, Keenan. She doesn’t know she should hide.” Donia shook her head.
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but if I am, you and I shall simply date longer while I wait to find the right possible mortal.”
A small sliver of her heart thrummed at the realization that he’d rushed everything, endangered all of them, so he could romance her. Fey and mortals alike needed him to succeed—not avoid his quest.
Keenan loved her in his way, and as much as she hated the reality of what that meant, she still gloried that her feelings were returned.
“But do you really think she’s here?”
He paused, guilt clouding his face, and then he said, “I can feel her here, Don. It’s different this time.”
Donia sighed. “You always think that. She’s never where you look.”
“I know.”
Suddenly, Keenan looked so despondent that despite everything, she felt a rush of guilt this time. She hated the well of compassion that bubbled up inside her, and from the way he smiled at her then, he knew what she was feeling. He always knew. It wasn’t magic, or faery gifts or something. It was simply him. No one had ever understood her as he did.
“I want to be with you,” Keenan whispered. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’m not looking enough because I spend my time dreaming of you. I picture you as my bride. Consort. . . lover.”
Although she was nowhere near a girl in years lived, Donia still blushed like one as he looked at her.
“I think of you like that,” Keenan continued.
Donia shuddered, but forced a laugh. “We’d destroy everything. Ice and heat, Keenan. It hurts just to touch you.”
“Is it worth it, though?” Keenan stepped so close that Donia’s clothing felt like it would burn her.
She let out a small sigh, a soft cloud of icy air. Her decision burned up in the heat from his nearness, and without a word spoken between them, Keenan knew.
He saw the opening, her weakness, and asked, “Come out with me tonight? No one needs to know.”
“Fine.” Donia shrugged, as if it meant little. She stared at him and insisted, “It’s not a date, Keenan. It’s two friends who—"
“We’re friends?” He sounded far too excited by that, as if it was a gift, an unexpected one at that.
“We aren’t enemies,” she allowed. There wasn’t a word for what they were. They weren’t simply acquaintances. “Lovers” was wrong, but so was “enemies.” He looked so hopeful, as if her admission changed something. It didn’t, but she still understood that hope. The Summer King was wrought of hope and joy. Believing impossibilities came naturally to him, despite everything.
Donia held his gaze. “We might as well be friends.”
“I’m glad.” He took her hands, squeezing them carefully.
And Donia tried to keep the ice inside her body controlled, much as he obviously was keeping the sunlight under control. His touch hurt, but it was worth the pain.
“I miss you when we are at odds, Don,” he whispered. “I hate the way you dwell on my weaknesses, and I know you must because of the curse, but . . . I hate it. I hate you, of all people, thinking about all of my flaws month after year after decade.”
“I am as bound by the curse as you are.” Donia resisted, tugging away as he pulled her closer. They’d done this too many times, this apart-and-together dance. She wasn’t his mistress, but sometimes that was the closest example she had to what they could be—and it wasn’t enough.
“What would happen if I kissed you?” he asked.
“Don’t.” Donia pulled her hands away. “You break my heart over and over, Keenan. What would you do if I found a lover? What if I fell in love?”
Sunlight sparked in his skin, like a firestorm caught inside his body. His already glimmering hair looked like copper-strand left under a midday sun. Donia winced at the pain, the glare of it.
“You wouldn’t,” Keenan half-asked, half-ordered.
She gave him a sad smile. “The way you feel right now is the way I feel every single time you leave me. You’ll make me believe in us again, and then you’ll leave me. I can’t do this. Every time it breaks my heart just a little more.”
His sunlight blinked out. “Don . . . the curse . . .”
“It’s not the ice, Keenan. It’s you. You destroy me,” she said, trying to impress the truth upon him. Glimmer of sunlight slid over him, making the frost falling around her glow and melt in tiny puffs of steam.
He kneeled before her as he had the day she accepted the test to be the Summer Queen. “Once more, please? Let me have one more chance to court you.”
“Why?” She crossed her arms and stared at him. “You need a queen. I’m not her. I’ll never be the Summer Queen, Keenan. You know it. I know it. Your advisors. Beira. Why can’t you let me go?”
“Because I lo—"
“No.” Icy tears clung to her eyelashes. “What would make you let go?”
“Give me the holidays?” Keenan took her hand. “Can we have that dream we once shared?” He paused and offered, “If you give me this, I’ll stop pursuing you and focus on finding my queen.”