Donia knew that the price they both had paid for Keenan’s single-sighted attention to his goals was high, but it appeared that they were both again being caught in the machinations of the Summer King. It was his actions that had led to Donia’s being made queen—trying to remake a court that had thrived on violence and unchecked power for centuries. Ruling wasn’t without its benefits, but it was not the freedom she’d dreamed of one day having, nor was it a union with the only faery she’d ever loved. No, in his pursuit of his queen, Donia had been left injured. Her choices had been death or becoming the embodiment of Winter, and with it, being unable to touch the Summer King without pain to them both.

“Now that he’s stronger, I need help,” Rika said, drawing Donia out of her reverie. “He’s working with solitaries who shouldn’t have power. They are vile to mortals. One stabbed the desert Alpha, Sionnach. . . .”

“And you?”

“I can hold order against even the strongest solitaries. I’ve just not been interested”—Rika glanced at Jayce—“but things change. I’m willing to keep order, with or without the current Alpha, but I need something—someone—to spare me from Keenan’s meddling. I need a regent who will allow me to keep most of my autonomy. . . .”

Donia nodded. “You want me as a buffer between you and Keenan.”

Rika dropped to her knees on the rug in front of Donia. “I would offer you my fealty. I would be your subject—not his. Never his.”

“Pledging your support would mean fighting should I ask it of you. It could mean moving or surrendering anything I ask of you—” Donia glanced meaningfully at Jayce.

At that, Jayce said, “I’ll offer you my loyalty too if you accept a human’s fealty.”

Donia smiled at his unexpected offer, and a shower of ice crystals like falling stars appeared in the air. “Mortals don’t generally pledge to a court, as they don’t even know we exist, but I’d offer you my court’s protection if you love my sister enough.”

Jayce knelt beside Rika and took her hand in his. “Done.”

Rika bowed her head and vowed, “I vow to obey you, Donia. I will fight at your word, hold your friends as my own, and your enemies as my own.”

Jayce echoed her words.

“Your vow”—Donia reached a hand out to touch Rika and Jayce’s entwined hands—“is accepted. The Winter Court proclaims you both as our own.”

“Not just sister, but Queen,” Rika whispered. Then with a small smile, she came to her feet and embraced Donia.