“Perhaps.” Niall reached over to grip the faery’s hand. She was one of the countless vine-bedecked Summer Girls who lived in the court, destined to spend eternity frolicking and dancing.
Niall, however, was a solitary creature for centuries, and he’d spent time in the Dark Court after that. Maybe it was his nature, or maybe it was guilt for things he’d done and enjoyed, but frolicking didn’t come easily to him.
Still.
Centuries of life in the Summer Court ought to outweigh the time he’d spent in the dark, but even the nine centuries with the new king—and time before that with this king’s father—hadn’t changed him. He was starting to think that nothing he could do would make the summerlight a fit for him.
Or perhaps, he was starting to weary of the impossible task of finding Keenan’s missing queen. Perhaps this curse was, in fact, an unbreakable one. Keenan would dream of a girl, and the Summer Court would move to a new city. Again. Niall was there to get everything in place; Keenan would arrive in a matter of days—and pursue another mortal. Niall watched, waited, and advised. But, ultimately, he was powerless.
“You seem sad.” The summer girl rested her head on his shoulder.
Niall forced his maudlin thoughts back. He had a duty to protect the faeries on this ship and to treat them in ways that led to joy—for a Summer Court faery without joy would wither like blossoms in the cold.
“Shall we go and ease my sorrows?” he suggested.
The faery girl laughed, and together they headed to his room. This was how summer kept hope alive, through joy and rejoicing, through touches and dancing. In some ways it wasn’t so very different from the Dark Court.
As they headed toward the cabin, another far-less-cheerful voice arrested him: “You’re vile.”
There, standing in the shadows of the hall was Rika, the last girl to surrender her humanity for the Summer King. Ice crept along the wall behind her, and the air grew unpleasant.
The vine-draped faery at his side shivered.
“I’ll be along in a moment,” Niall whispered and sent her on with a little push.
Once he was alone with Rika, he stared at her and asked, “Does it help to be cruel to them?”
“I was speaking to you.” Icy air accompanied her words.
“I see.” He offered her his arm despite the pain her touch would cause. Not too long ago, she was willing to risk the ice to save the Summer Court. That deserved kindness.
Rika did not take his proffered arm. “You are no gentleman, Niall.”
He didn’t argue. Lying was not a thing a faery could do. He could distract, omit, or misdirect, but he could not outright lie.
Together, they walked along the deck as the waves rocked and tossed the ship.
“I dislike the water,” he murmured after one particularly large wave tilted the ship sharply.
“I love it,” Rika noted almost conversationally. She lifted a hand, letting frost coat her skin as she released that arctic chill into the sea. Ice formed and shattered as the salty water writhed.
After a moment, she asked, “Do you even know her name? The faery you will bed?”
He shrugged.
“I hate this world, Niall. Tell me it will get easier. Tell me I’ll get better at being inhuman. Tell me that there are reasons to endure this curse.” Her sorrow manifested in a sprinkle of snow. The curse had changed her, filled her with borrowed ice. Every day until she was freed, the Winter Girl would be in pain.
It made him want to sooth her, kiss her, offer her joy. More than that, though, her curiosity made him excited. Conversations were what he missed most from his years before the Summer Court, and they were treasures he safeguarded when he found them. The Winter Girls—whether Rika or those before or after her—were prone to asking questions, and he liked being the one they sought. He angled for it when they were still mortal.
“Sometimes, it’s better.” Niall took her hand in his, ignoring the ice that was creeping painfully over his skin. “In the end, I believe that love overcomes. I believe in peace. I believe everything will one day be in balance.”
Rika erupted into laughter. Frost coated her lips, and shards of ice clattered as they fell from her eyes. It was not precisely the reaction he’d sought, but she no longer sounded as if she might hurl herself into the sea.
They passed a few moments in companionable silence before the Winter Girl asked, “Do you think she’s here? The queen?”
“Keenan feels pulled here.” Niall shrugged. He no longer let himself hope as he once had. Perhaps the missing Summer Queen was here, but he didn’t know.
“What happens when she’s not?” Rika asked quietly. “How do you stand by and let him steal another girl’s humanity? How do you let him ruin lives? Damn women and girls to either his harem or . . .?”
“To your fate?” Niall finished. He leaned in and brushed a kiss over Rika’s icy temple. “I stand by because I know that sacrificing a few people means that we stand a chance of stopping Beira. Until Keenan’s powers are unbound, he cannot stop the Winter Queen. The world will slowly freeze and die. A few lives are changed--”
“Ruined,” she interjected.
“Challenged,” he said. “But in exchange, they become immortal. They lose humanity, but gain so much. It’s worth it. Your sacrifice is worth the eventual victory for all of humanity and faeries.”
“Spoken like one who did not pay the price,” Rika said.
They were silent.
Niall wasn’t about to admit that he understood her sacrifice all too well. He’d paid a high cost of his own to save mortals. He’d sacrificed his body to the whims of the Dark Court to rescue mortals—only to discover that they were dying already. He’d paid with his flesh, and the memory of it haunted him still.
The knowledge that he’d been betrayed by the only man he’d loved had twisted inside him in ways he didn’t share. Knowing what he’d lost, Niall couldn’t truthfully say that he’d make the sacrifices she had to risk everything to save the court, the king, and the world, but he understood her bitterness and rage all too well.
“I do understand, Rika.” He weighed his words. “I would speak to you of it if you wish. I have bled to near death for misplaced love.”
“I hate him,” she whispered. “And I hate that I will see him over and over.”
He nodded. That, Niall understood, too.
“Beira will be in the city. Keenan.” Niall stared out at the sea. “Winter and Summer will meet, and the city will suffer. We will suffer. This is simply the nature of the curse.”
“What sort of monster creates such a curse?”
Niall offered her a smile. “A faery, Rika.”
She walked away, leaving him to his mood. That was a gift she did not realize she offered: space to be himself, to not be the cheerful Summer Court advisor. Sometimes he wondered if the requirement to speak to the newly-made Winter Girls was Keenan’s way of letting Niall have moments of peace—or if was simply how Keenan coped with his own grief.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was ending the curse that had bound the Summer Court for almost nine full centuries. They were fumbling, never knowing if they had overlooked the one mortal Keenan needed to find. All they had were Keenan’s instincts. He would feel drawn somewhere, and then he’d feel drawn to someone.