Aislinn nodded. “That yes was to you, Siobhan. Remember that.”
Then, the Summer Queen pulled the sunlight into her hands. It felt like hot honey, too hot for anyone else to touch.
She knew she’d started to glow. Sunlight radiated from her entire body, as if she had summoned the sun itself and somehow held it inside her. The guards, the freed Summer Guards, and assorted Summer Court faeries all started flowing into the room as if they were being called to their queen’s side.
They were more used to sunlit healing than she was, but there was an instinct guiding her. Once she’d healed the Summer King this way, but then she hadn’t realized how sensual it would feel, how much need it would evoke in the person who was healed—or in the court. Raw sunlight was heady stuff, intoxicating in ways that made the strongest liquors seem mild.
“Be well, brother, and be loved,” Aislinn whispered, and then she brought her hands down on the wound, cupped them there at first, and then pressed down.
Tavish moaned, first in pain as she seared whatever poison had entered his body and then in a sort of agony as the skin sizzled and burnt.
When the Summer Queen finally lifted her hand, a tattoo was there, a sun much like the blackened sun already on Tavish’s throat. Briefly, Aislinn realize that the other tattoo was likely from this same thing.
“My queen,” Tavish whispered in the sort of awe that should be saved for divinity, but then he looked at Siobhan and murmured, “My beloved.”
“Ash?” Siobhan prompted
“He’s drunk on sunlight.” Aislinn realized that she didn’t sound much more sober. The room was erupting in flowers, and couples—or couples for the night—were already kissing and caressing.
Tavish slid his hand over Siobhan’s leg, at first caressing her calf but within moments his hand was above the knee and showing no sign of stopping.
Siobhan caught his hand in hers and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Seducing you . . . ?” Tavish smiled drunkenly.
Siobhan stifled her giggle, and Aislinn turned away. There was still a wide swath of mortal awkwardness in her, and even though she learned to hide it, voyeurism made her feel incredibly awkward. And it highlighted that she far more monogamous than was typical of the court of sunlight. The last regent, the Summer King, had dozens of bedmates and was adding to them for centuries. Aislinn, however, was still mortal enough in her heart—despite being wholly fey in all ways--to want a happily ever after with one person.
And that one person was—
“Miss me?”
The Summer Queen turned to face the man who had appeared behind her. “Seth! You’re to be in Faerie! How--”
“Sorcha said you would need me, and I thought—”
“My uncle was here to murder someone,” Aislinn said, sounding far too light-hearted and knowing that it was the sunlight washing away her rage and fear. If she wasn’t dizzy on sunlight, Aislinn might point out that she no longerexpectedhim to be here when she needed him. He was always away, always busy, and she was lonely. She tried to chase those feelings, but her half-mortal lover stared at her with a smile that was proof that he was not resisting the crash of Summer energy that had filled her home.
Why not give in?
Seeing Seth still took her breath away. Several years in his arms and longer still of his friendship, and she still felt like the world tilted when he looked at her. Not quite mortal, not quite faery, he’d retained the tattoos and piercings that ought to feel toxic now that he was cursed to be fey. His just-this-side of razor-sharp cheeks looked inhuman to her now, but they’d been that way when he was mortal.
“Ash?”
“You’re gorgeous,” she breathed. “Like something that could be feral if the world tilted.”
To the left someone moaned.
“Says sunlight given form,” Seth murmured. “Should we address the murder attempt?”
Elsewhere were giggles.
The queen did not look. Instead, she pulled Seth closer. “Yes, but . . . can we talk about that later . . . I have more pressing needs I’d like you to address.”
The next morning, Aislinn was propped up in the nest-like bed she’d created at some point. She looked at Seth, remnants of vines still wrapped around his wrists, and for a flicker of a moment, she wondered if she should feel embarrassed. Summer was a time of impulse, of longing and laughter. In ways, it was not so different from the Dark Court.
Without the pain.
And yet, there were vines wrapped around the arms of her beloved.