She forced away the thought. Her temper was precisely why she couldn’t settle for only half of Keenan’s attention.

Or heart.

Evan motioned to the other guards he’d brought out with him, and they moved farther away, all but three disappearing into the night at his command. The three who remained, white-winged Hawthorn Girls, never wandered far from her side if at all possible. Except for when I leave without telling anyone. Their red eyes glowed like beacons in the poorly lit street, and Donia took a measure of comfort in their presence.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that it’s too dangerous for you to be out alone,” Evan said.

“And I would be a weak queen if I wasn’t able to handle myself for a few moments alone,” Donia reminded her advisor.

“I’ve never found you weak, even when you weren’t a queen.” He shook his head. “Summer Court might not be powerful enough to injure you, but Bananach is growing stronger by the day.”

“I know.” Donia felt a flush of guilt.

Faeries from all of the courts had been slipping away, and Donia knew that they were joining Bananach. Can she form her own court? The mortality of the newer monarchs caused more than a little unease, and War had made sure to nettle to heighten the tension. Likewise, worries over the interrelations between courts caused traditionalists to rally around Bananach. Niall wasn’t openly sympathetic to the Summer Court, but his centuries advising them made his faeries ill at ease. Her whatever-it-was with Keenan had a similar effect on some of her court, and Summer’s attempts at imposing order on their court made faeries who were used to freedom chafe.

Donia wished that a new court was what Bananach sought, but the raven-faery was the embodiment of war and discord. The odds of her settling for a peacefully created court—if such a thing was even possible—weren’t high. Mutiny and murder were far more likely goals for Bananach and her growing number of allies.