That wasn’t Donia, Aislinn reminded herself, but it did no good. Something about the very opposition of their courts made Aislinn want to clutch Keenan’s hand in hers, but he wasn’t there.

As Aislinn stepped onto the porch, one of the white-winged Hawthorn People opened the door. The faery was soundless in her movement. She did not speak as Aislinn came through the doorway and shivered in the chill that pervaded the room. She did not speak as she glided through the dim house.

“Is Donia available?” Aislinn’s voice echoed in the stillness, but there was no answer.

She hadn’t truly expected one: the Hawthorns were silent. It added to how unsettling they were. They never wandered far from Donia’s presence and typically only left the Winter Queen’s home if it was necessary to stay at Donia’s side. Their red eyes glowed like hearth coals amidst their ash-gray countenances.

The girl led Aislinn past several other quietly watchful Hawthorns who were lingering in the main hall. A fire crackled in one of the rooms they passed; the spitting and popping of logs was the only sound other than the fall of Aislinn’s feet on the aged wood of the floor. The Winter Court could move with an eerie stillness that made the back of Aislinn’s neck prickle uneasily.

At a door that was closed, the Hawthorn stopped. She made no movement to open the door.

“Do I need to knock?” Aislinn asked.

But the girl turned and drifted away.

“That’s helpful.” Aislinn reached out a hand just as the door opened inward.

“Come in.” Evan motioned her into the room.

“Hey, Evan.”

“My queen would speak to you in private,” he said, but he followed that with a friendly smile, crinkling his face into an expression that eased Aislinn’s tension a bit. Like the Hawthorn People, his berry-red eyes stood out, but where the Hawthorn were tinted like ashes of a dying fire, rowans like Evan were the image of fecundity. His gray-brown barklike skin and dark green leafy hair spoke of trees that moved across the earth untethered. They were creatures of Summer, of her court. It soothed her to see him.

But he was leaving already, and Aislinn was alone with Donia and her wolf, Sasha.

“Donia,” Aislinn started, but there suddenly weren’t words she could think of to go any further.

The Winter Queen did not make matters easier. She stood watching Aislinn. “I assume he sent you.”

“He would prefer talking to you himself.” Aislinn felt like a small child in the vast unwelcoming room, but Donia hadn’t offered her a seat or made any move to sit down herself, so she stood. The rug under their feet was almost threadbare, muted green, and somehow still seemed opulent. Aislinn suspected it was more suited to a museum than daily use.

“I had Evan refuse him entrance.” Donia paced away from Aislinn, keeping an exaggerated distance.

It made her anxious that the Winter Queen felt compelled to stay out of reach.

“Can I ask why?”

“You can.” Donia seemed unusually unapproachable.

Aislinn forced her irritation and a twinge of fear away. “Okaaay. I’m asking.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Donia smiled, and Aislinn shivered.

“Look. If you want me to go, just tell me. I’m here because he asked and because I like you.” Aislinn folded her arms over her chest, as much to keep herself from fidgeting uneasily as to keep from reaching out to smash one of the delicate snow globes that lined a shelf on the wall. They weren’t the sort of thing she’d expect Donia to have, but right now didn’t seem like the best time to ask about them. Something about Donia’s behavior was off, and Aislinn felt herself responding to an unspoken threat.

“Your temper is more obvious as Summer’s strength grows.” Donia’s chilling smile was steadfast. “Like his. You even look like him with that glow pulsing under your skin.”

“Keenan is my friend.” Aislinn bit down on her lip and curled her fingers tighter into her folded arms, not in nerves but for tiny bits of pain to ground herself.

The Winter Queen walked farther away. She paused at the window and traced her finger over the glass, covering it with frost flowers. She didn’t look at Aislinn as she began to speak. “It’s like a wound, loving him. He’s everything I ever dreamed of. When we are together”—she sighed, a cloud of freezing air that left tiny icicles clinging to the drapes—“I don’t care that he could burn me up. In that moment, I’d welcome it. I’d say yes even if it ended me.”

Aislinn’s temper fled, and she blushed, unprepared for this sort of conversation with Donia.

Donia didn’t turn from the glass as she continued, “I’ve wondered if that’s why Miach and Beira were so unable to coexist. I see it, history ready to repeat itself. Don’t think I am unaware, Ash.”

The Winter Queen turned her back to the window. She leaned against it, framed by the icy lace with which she’d decorated the glass and drapes.

“I’m not judging you. I want you to be with Keenan,” Aislinn insisted.

“Even if it’s a mistake?” Donia’s tone wasn’t one Aislinn could read. It verged on taunting. “Even if it’s history repeating? Even if the consequences are horrific? Would you have us start a war to protect your heart?”

Aislinn couldn’t answer. She hadn’t really thought much about the fact that Keenan’s parents were the Summer King and Winter Queen.

“I wonder now if Beira’s killing Miach was unexpected. Summer Kings are so volatile. Winter can be so much calmer.” As Donia spoke, a chair of ice formed under her. The edges weren’t smooth, but ragged like waves frozen in mid-break.

Aislinn didn’t mean to, but she laughed. “Can be? I’ve seen the temper in you. Summer can be calm too. Whatever you two have just isn’t…and I don’t think calm is what either of you would want. I saw him after Solstice. There were frostbites on his skin, but he was happy.”

“You would see those marks, wouldn’t you?” Donia gave her a look that wasn’t friendly at all. “Every time I think I have him out of my system, and then he’s sweet or wonderful…” She looked wistful. “Do you know what he did?”

Aislinn shook her head.

“He had a gardening company remove the hawthorn…that awful plant that was the scene of every test. It’s gone from here and from the cottage. Not killed, but replanted away from me.” Tiny ice drops clicked as they shattered at Donia’s feet.

“That’s sweet….”

“It is.” Donia’s face was a mirror of the feelings Aislinn often felt for Keenan—the bittersweet mix of affection and frustration that assailed her more and more—and Aislinn hated that they had that in common. She hated that they were in this conversation.

They stayed there, neither going any further, until Donia said, “It’s not going to change my mind. I know he thinks he might love me, but he thinks he might love you too.”

I wish I could lie. Right now I really wish I could lie to her.

“I don’t want…” Aislinn faltered. She tried again, “We aren’t…” The words weren’t wholly true: she couldn’t pronounce them. Finally, she said, “I am with Seth.”

“You are, but he’s mortal.” Donia didn’t look angry. “And Keenan is your king, your partner. I hear it in his voice when he says your name. He never sounded like this about anyone else.”

“Except you.”

The Winter Queen nodded. “Yes, except me. I know that.”

“He wants to see you. He’s upset, and you need to—”

“No.” Donia stood. “You’re in no position to tell me what I need to do. My court has held sway over the earth longer than either of us can imagine. They’ve watched Keenan suffer under Beira’s boot for centuries.” Donia was motionless, but her eyes were snowblind. “They do not give up power easily, but I ask it of them. I require them to accept that Summer must have more than a few brief days.”

“Then you see why you need to work things out.”