Melissa Marr: Fragile Eternity

But Tavish didn’t back down. “Such a major change…”

Seth tuned them out. He’d hear Aislinn recount it all later when she tried to make sense of it. No need to hear it twice. He picked up a remote and flicked through the music. Someone had added the Living Zombies song he’d mentioned the other week. He selected it and turned the volume up.

Tavish had a please-help-me look on his face. Seth ignored it, but Quinn didn’t. Grumbling, but eager to prove his worth, the new advisor went back over to the table.

Then Keenan walked in the door with several of the Summer Girls beside him. They looked more beautiful by the day. As summer approached—and as Aislinn and Keenan grew stronger—their faeries seemed to blossom.

Tavish immediately began, “Keenan, my King, perhaps you could explain to her grace that…” But his words died after a glimpse at the expression of ire the Summer King wore.

In response to his volatile mood, Aislinn’s already-glowing skin radiated enough light that it hurt Seth to look at her. Without even realizing she was doing it, she’d extended sunbeams like insubstantial hands reaching toward Keenan. Over the past few months, she’d developed an increasingly strong connection with the Summer King.

Which sucks.

All Keenan had to do was look her way and she was at his side, papers forgotten, argument forgotten, everything but Keenan forgotten. She went to him, and the rest of the world went on pause at Keenan’s look of upset.

It’s her job. Court things have to come first.

Seth wanted to not be irritated by it. He’d worked hard to become the person he was now—a person whose temper was under control, whose sardonic streak didn’t lead to making cruel remarks. He channeled those discordant tendencies into his paintings and sculptures. Between his art and his meditation, he was able to hold on to peace these days, but Keenan tested that hard-earned progress. It wasn’t as if Seth couldn’t understand the importance of strengthening the Summer Court after centuries of growing cold, but sometimes it was hard to believe that Keenan didn’t overplay minor worries to keep Aislinn’s attention. He’d spent centuries assuming that what he thought, or wanted, was of utmost importance. Now that he had the power to go with the arrogance, he wasn’t likely to become less demanding.

Tavish motioned the Summer Girls to him and led them to the kitchen. With Niall gone and Keenan trying to reestablish his court’s authority, not to mention forge new agreements with the other courts, Tavish had assumed responsibility for helping the Summer Girls learn some degree of independence. Seth thought it was perversely funny that spending hours making sure that a group of beautiful girls was in good spirits was considered work, but no one else seemed to find it humorous. What was important in the Summer Court wasn’t always what made sense to a mortal—a fact of which Seth was regularly reminded.

As Keenan relayed whatever new crisis he’d run into, Seth gathered his things and stood. He waited until Aislinn looked over at him and then said, “Ash? I’m out.”

She came to stand beside Seth—near but not touching. It wasn’t that she couldn’t reach out, but she was still tentative. They’d only been a couple for a few months. Although it was hard to resist the temptation to remind them all that she was his , Seth didn’t touch her. He stood there, waiting, not pressuring. It was the only way with her. He’d figured that out more than a year ago. He waited; the tension built; and then she leaned against him, folding herself into his arms and sighing.

“Sorry. I just need to”—she shot a worried look at Keenan—“court stuff, you know?”

“I do.” Seth had spent more hours than he liked to think about listening to her try to make sense of her new responsibilities, utterly unable to help her. She had a long list of things that required her attention, and he just sat there waiting.

“But we’re still on for the Crow’s Nest tomorrow, right?” Her tone was worried.

“I’ll meet you there.” He felt guilty for being selfish, for adding to her worry. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, tugging it gently until she tilted her head back and kissed him. It burned his lips, his tongue, when she was nervous or upset—not impossibly painful but enough that he couldn’t pretend that she was the girl he used to know. By the time he pulled back, the burn had faded. She was calm again.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You know that, don’t you?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either; holding her in his arms was the best answer he could give her. She would be without him sooner or later: he was mortal, but that was a conversation she refused to have. He’d tried to talk to her, but she stopped every conversation with either tears or kisses—or both. Unless they found a way for him to belong in her world, eventually he’d be gone, and Keenan would be the one holding her.

To go from not wanting to make commitments for the next night, to putting everything aside in hopes of convincing Aislinn to trust him, to thinking about forever was unsettling. He hadn’t figured himself for the whole getting-married-and-settling-down thing, but since she’d been in his arms and in his life, he’d hated the thought of being anywhere but with her.

The Summer King had walked over to the table and was examining Aislinn’s diagrams, notes, and charts. Despite how weird the situation was for all of them, he often made a point of letting Aislinn and Seth have privacy. It was obvious, though, that moving away was not easy for Keenan.

Or Ash.

Quinn cleared his throat as he reentered the room. “I’ll walk you out if you’re ready.”

Seth wasn’t ever ready to walk away from Aislinn, but he didn’t see the sense in sitting around watching her murmur with Keenan either. She had responsibilities; they both needed to keep those in mind—even if those responsibilities included late nights and parties with Keenan. She had a job to do.

And Seth had…Aislinn. That’s what he had: Aislinn, Aislinn’s world, Aislinn’s needs. He existed on the fringe of her world, with no role, no power, and no desire to walk away. It wasn’t that he wanted out, but he wasn’t sure what to do to be further into her world.

And she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“See you tomorrow.” Seth kissed Aislinn once more and followed Quinn to the door.

Donia was at her house— Beira’s house —when Keenan and Aislinn intruded on her. It wasn’t her preferred place, but she’d taken to conducting business there and keeping her cottage for personal matters, space only Evan and a few select guards could enter.

And Keenan. Always Keenan.

When Keenan came through the ridiculously carved door—his copper hair shining like a beacon—Donia wanted to go to him, just for a brief moment to pretend that what they shared, that their decades of history entitled her to such easy comfort. It didn’t, especially when Aislinn was beside him. Keenan’s attention to his queen’s every thought and action bordered on obsession.

Would Ash care if I went to him?

To some degree, Donia doubted it: the Summer Queen had been the one to arrange Donia’s tryst with Keenan at Winter Solstice. She’d been the one insisting that Keenan did, in fact, love Donia although he’d never said the words. Yet, Keenan wouldn’t risk even the briefest display of emotion around Aislinn.

So they all stood awkwardly in the foyer, surrounded by a number of Hawthorn Girls who calmly watched from the church pews that lined the walls. Sasha lifted his head from the floor where he was resting. The wolf glanced at the summer regents briefly, closed his eyes, and resumed sleeping.