And Donia tried not to think of what Keenan’s reaction would be when he learned what she had done. There weren’t many times that she had stood against him yet. It was the nature of their courts to be in opposition, but hers was still so much stronger that she had no need yet to be cruel. This, though, he would see as an insult. She sent a messenger to tell his faeries what she’d done, to invite the inevitable conversation to happen in her territory.

Hours later, they had moved to the Winter Garden to await Keenan’s arrival. Donia knew he’d come soon, and she’d rather not destroy the house with the inevitable argument that would accompany his appearance. She was more comfortable out here in the frost-heavy grass. It was one of the spots where she came for solace now. Inside, there were faeries awaiting her orders, seeking favors, or trying to make sense of their new queen. In the garden, there was silence. Wooden benches—fitted together by a craftsman’s skill, no screws or bolts anywhere in them—were tucked among the trees and shrubbery. Bird feeders and winter plants invited animals to find nourishment, and a few tamed creatures crept from their dens to seek her company. Beside the bench slept one such creature, an arctic fox. Only its dark eyes and nose showed in the snow bank. The rest of its body blended with the stark white ground. Absently, Donia ran her bare toes over its back.

Rika and Jayce were cuddled together on another bench. They had heaps of furs wrapped around them like blankets, and Donia smiled at the way Rika stroked the pelt across her lap. It was good to see her less angry at the past she’d known. For years as the Winter Girl, these same furs were what they’d had for blankets. When Rika had been freed, she’d cast off most everything that reminded her of the life she’d been living. When Donia became the Winter Girl, she hadn’t realized the extent of Rika’s anger. Over time, she’d seen through the illusion that Rika had created to protect Donia. Rika had been far more furious than she’d admitted. Once Donia realized that, Rika stopped visiting, as if she couldn’t bear to see reminders of the curse. Now, though, Rika finally seemed closer to actual peace. Her time in the desert had mellowed her—perhaps her mortal had helped too.

A red-eyed Hawthorn Girl alit from the tree branches; her wings glittered as if the frost clung to her. “The Summer King is here.”

“Let the games begin,” Donia murmured.

Rika reached for Jayce’s hand.

Donia smiled. “Rika?”

She looked up at her queen, a question plain in her eyes.

“Nothing has changed . . . not truly. I won’t silence your voice,” Donia said. “I owe you too much for that.”