Summer Bound (Wicked Lovely #5.2) - Melissa Marr Page 0,1

knew better.

She thought about all of the reasons he was precisely not what she should want. Tavish was the Summer Queen’s advisor, head of the guard, and—as far as Siobhan knew—the oldest member of the court. And, Siobhan was the second advisor to the queen; she was expected to stand in opposition to Tavish’s advice when necessary.

Tracie paused and kissed both of Siobhan’s cheeks. Then she whispered, “Kick his ass.”

Tavish made a sound of disbelief. Obviously, he’d heard. He didn’t respect Siobhan in any way, as far as she could tell. How could he? She’d gone from frivolous member of the Summer King’s harem, one of the many women who were wooed by him in his search for the queen, to the advisor to the Summer Queen.

“If you can land three solid blows—”

“No.” Siobhan shook her head. “I’ve proven that I can hit you, Tavish. I’m not here for games. I come to these sessions to show support of you, but in this court, I advise. I do not like to fight.”

“You are no longer some helpless mortal, Siobhan.” Tavish raised his fists in a boxer’s pose. “Or hapless plaything.”

“Plaything?” she echoed. “Is that what you thought of me all these years?”

“You didn’t even have the ambition to try to be queen.” He shrugged. “You chose his harem. Why would I think you more?”

“Because you know me,” she said. In fact, Tavish knew her when she was mortal, when she refused the test to be Summer Queen, when she was sent by their king to seduce another king. He’d once been the faery she’d wept on when she was newly cursed.

“I was a spy for the king,” she reminded him. “That’s a fair bit more than hapless.”

“But you were a seductress there, too.” He stared at her. “You can’t kiss your way out of every crisis. What if--”

“You’ll never truly see me as an equal, will you?” she asked, although the question wasn’t one he could answer. It was hard to recreate her identity when he knew her so well. He was the reminder of what had been. Of the original trio of power in the Summer Court, only Tavish remained. Niall was the Dark King, and Keenan was the Winter King. But Tavish remained—and they had centuries of history that meant he still saw her as someone who didn’t matter.

All of which means that he’s not going to form an attachment to me. Or even see me as a worthy advisor.

Siobhan met Tavish’s cool gaze. “I am done for the day.”

He frowned, but was silent for several moments as she gathered her things. The blood dripping from his cut lip seemed not to bother him, but Siobhan found it irritating—more so because she was not the cause.

“Is it wrong to want you to be safe?” he asked.

Despite logic, Siobhan paused. “I am safe, Tavish.” She reached out to wipe the blood drop away.

Tavish caught her wrist. “No.”

“You didn’t used to mind my touch.” Siobhan wasn’t sure she’d ever been among his favorites, but they had memories over the years. Blurry ones, admittedly, but they’d enjoyed each other. “If all you think of me is as a seductress, perhaps—"

“You weren’t an advisor to my queen then.” Tavish squeezed her wrist, holding her in place. They stayed, caught in some silent battle for control until he asked, “Do you still visit the Dark? Do you still spend time in their court?”

And that was the trigger to her rage. She wrapped her leg around his knee and punched his shoulder with her free hand, using the push and pull of the combined motions to knock him to the ground.

“Do you doubt my loyalty? Or are you jealous?” she asked.

He tugged her forward, not releasing her wrist even as he fell, and she landed atop him. Chest-to-chest. Hip-to-hip. “My duty is to the Summer Court.”

“Not an answer,” she said, glaring down at him.

“Do you still warm the Dark King’s sheets?” he asked.

She tugged her wrist free, hating that she could only do so because he allowed it. A part of her thought he was jealous, but such a thing wasn’t normal for a Summer Court faery. If he was jealous, he was a fool. She had interest in exactly one faery—and unfortunately, he was the one who was currently insulting and rejecting her.

“I answer to the queen, Tavish. Not you.”

The next day was no better. Tavish was already in a foul mood when Irial himself arrived at the loft where the advisors and