When Donia dipped her head, giving the slightest of nods in agreement, Keenan let out a whoop of joy.
Summer was meant to be happy, to revel in the things that were a part of the season—merriment and dance, languid kisses and long nights. Keenan was never sure if it was the curse or his parentage that made him fall into fits of depression. Did it matter why though? It was who he was, and he had no idea how to undo it. All he could say for certain was that Donia was the cure to his worst moods. In her, he found solace and joy.
“You make me happy,” he told her. It was the simplest, truest thing he could say. Loving her was hard, and he was well aware that they had no chance at eternity. Today, though, he could love her—and the Summer Court was very much about finding joy in the moment.
He wanted every moment, as if he’d starve without them.
Daring her temper, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips, knowing that it would sting. The brief taste of her lips was better than magic. He felt like he could spark volcanos or scorch deserts. Donia, even now, made him feel invincible. Love made him feel that way, as if his every weakness was gone.
She pulled back, but he wrapped his arms around her and rested his face against her icy hair.
“It should have been you,” he whispered against her ear. Then he stepped away. Too much touching was dangerous, and not just to his heart. She was ice, and he was sun. There was no way to touch safely, not as often and truly as he wanted.
Someday, when the curse ends, I will make love to her.
That dream was almost as much a drive as freeing his court from the pain they suffered because he was a bound king. In that sliver between freeing his court and reigning with his destined Summer Queen, he would steal a few moments with the one woman he’d truly loved. He would know that joy before he fulfilled his duties. It wasn’t enough, but he would have it.
“You’re absurd,” Donia said, stepping away and giving him a look that he knew well.
He wondered what she’d say if she knew his thoughts. He grinned. “So, we can date until the next one is—”
“Fine.” She turned and walked into her cottage. Her voice drifted back. “I expect true romance. Impress me.”
She sounded like she was laughing, and he felt lighter at the sound.
“Tonight, then, when the sunlight is calmer,” he called back.
Her hand waved behind her, a shower of ice and snow swirled in the air, and then she was inside—and he had a date to plan.