Keenan gave her a strained smile.

She stood on unsteady legs and walked to the door. She pulled the door open and clutched the doork.n.o.b until she was afraid she'd break it. It took more self-control than she'd have liked, but she caught his gaze. "This changes nothing. It can't. You are my friend, my king, but that's...all you can be."

He nodded, but it was a gesture that indicated that he heard her, not that he agreed, which was abundantly clear as he said, "And you are my queen, my savior, my partner-and that's everything."

Chapter 7.

Aislinn walked aimlessly through Huntsdale. Sometimes she didn't feel able to be around Seth; that happened more and more of late with thoughts of Keenan lingering on her mind. She'd been thinking about the things Keenan had said and the way she felt when he reached out toward her, and she was afraid. His separation from Donia would make him more insistent on being with her. They were already too close with summer's approach, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Part of her wanted to talk to Seth, but she was terrified that he'd go away. No matter how often he whispered that he loved her, she still worried that she'd mess it all up, and he'd leave. Sometimes she wanted to run from the world of faery problems; how could she expect him not to want the same thing? Seth had to share her with her court and her king. If she told him that Keenan was pressuring her-and that she was tempted-would that be the final straw?

Seth gave her s.p.a.ce, but he noticed when she was upset and she wasn't sure what she would say if he asked her why. My king, my other half, he's decided to change the rules. And I barely refused. She wasn't up for that conversation, not any time soon. She would be. She'd tell him. Just not yet. Not until I know what to say.

She wanted to talk to someone, but her only other friend who knew about the faeries, Leslie, had left town and refused to discuss them; telling Seth meant admitting to being tempted by Keenan; and her other confidant to things faery, Keenan, was the problem. Aislinn was faced with the unpleasant realization that her own circle of friends was far smaller than it had ever been. She'd never had a huge number of friends, but between the months where she was falling for Seth and trying to call it platonic and the changes with being a faery monarch, she'd drifted from the few friends she'd had. She still talked to Rianne and Carla at school, but she hadn't hung out with either of them in months.

After a glance at the time, she called Carla.

Carla answered almost immediately. "Ash? You okay?"

"Yeah. Why?" Aislinn knew why: she never called anymore.

"I just...nothing. What's up?"

"You free?"

Carla was silent for a beat. Then she said, "Depends on why you're asking."

"Okay, I was thinking I've been a lousy friend lately...." Aislinn paused.

"Keep talking. You're on the right track. Next part is?"

"Penance?" She laughed, relieved that Carla was making light of it. "What's the price?"

"Ten per game? Meet you there?"

Aislinn turned down the next street to head toward Shooters. "Spot me a few b.a.l.l.s?"

Carla snorted. "Penance, sweetie. I've been eying a new video card, and you're going to bankroll it by the time the night's done."

"Ouch."

"Yep." Carla's laugh was joyful. "See you there in thirty."

"I'll get a table." Then, in a decidedly improved mood, Aislinn disconnected. She knew that several of her guards followed behind at a discreet distance. Tonight, she didn't want to see them, though. Shooting pool with a friend wouldn't fix a thing, but it felt closer to the normal life she still missed.

With that in mind, she walked the half dozen blocks to Shooters. The h in the sign was out, so it read sooters-which was far better than when the first s had been out.

It had been weeks since she'd even stopped in. Guilt hit her again-and fear that she'd no longer be welcome. The regular crowd at Shooters worked hard and relaxed with equal enthusiasm. They were all older than she was-some old enough to be Grams' long-ago cla.s.smates-but they didn't draw age or cla.s.s or race lines at Shooters. It was a place where everyone was welcome as long as they didn't start trouble.

Before everything changed, Denny, a pool hustler somewhere in his twenties, had taken her on as a project of sorts. Denny handed her lessons off to his friend Grace when he felt like working a mark, and between their combined tutelage, Aislinn had become a pretty decent shot. She'd never be able to run tables like he did, but that sort of mastery came from shooting every day. Most of the regulars were cool to talk to or shoot with, but it was Denny and Grace whom she'd truly missed.

When she went inside, she saw Denny right off. He was at a table with Grace. When Grace looked up and saw her, her face folded into a smile. "Hey, Princess. Long time, no visits."

Denny took his shot before he lifted his eyes from the table. "Out without either of the Princes Charming?"

She shrugged. "Girl time. I'm meeting Carla."

"Grab a cue or a seat." Grace's voice had a cigarette-and-whiskey rasp to it that contrasted with her body. She sounded like a woman who should be a lithe singer in a vibrant scarlet dress, breaking hearts and inciting lovers' quarrels, but Grace was a different sort of trouble. Wearing black boots, faded jeans, and a man's b.u.t.ton-up shirt, she was all muscle and just as able to handle any fights as the men in the room. She took immense pride in the fact that her Softail Custom was outfitted with more chrome and louder pipes than Denny's.

"You want to shoot teams when Carla gets here?" Denny circled the table to reach his next shot. He'd tied his hair back, but the loose ponytail was already coming undone and falling into his face.

"Only if I get Carla," Grace said. "Sorry, Ash, but the two of them together would kill us."

Aislinn cracked a grin. "She already set stakes. Ten a game."

"So, twenty then, for teams?" Denny cleared two b.a.l.l.s in a complicated shot that Carla could explain by way of geometry and simple angles, but which Denny executed as a matter of precision and practice. Aislinn had neither geometry nor sufficient practice.

"Or ten still, even splits." Grace opened a bottle of water.

"We might break even, if you have Carla," Denny said. Then he finished clearing the table.

"Or not," Grace muttered.

He grinned. "Or not."

Something bluesy kicked up on the jukebox; Aislinn had been there often enough to recognize cla.s.sic Buddy Guy. Across the hall, murmured conversations rose and fell among the clack of b.a.l.l.s. Cries of defeat and victory broke into the familiar hum of Shooters. It's good to be here. She'd spent too much time with faeries; hanging out with friends was the change she needed.

By the time Carla arrived, Aislinn could almost convince herself that life was as it had been before. Not that before had been perfect, but sometimes it seemed like things had been a lot clearer then. Contemplating eternity, a job she had no idea how to do well, and a relationship that was heading toward uncrossable lines-it wasn't relaxing.

But Carla was there, Denny and Grace were there, the music was good, and the laughter was easy. The rest of the night was reserved for friends and fun.

"Game," Carla crowed. She did a little victory shimmy that made Denny look away and Grace smirk.

"Somebody's keeping a secret," Aislinn murmured to Denny.

Denny narrowed his eyes. "Leave it alone, Ash."

Grace and Carla were chatting as Grace racked the b.a.l.l.s. Aislinn put her back to the table and kept her voice low. "Age is relative. If you-"

"No, it's really not. Maybe someday when she's had a chance to live a little more...but she hasn't, and I'm not going to steal that chance." Denny glanced at Carla as he sat back on one of the stools against the wall. "You two have years to enjoy your freedom before you settle down. I'm already at the point of wanting that."

"So how old is too old?"

He grinned. "Don't get p.r.i.c.kly. Seth's not too old for you. A year or two isn't a big deal."

"But..."

"But I'm almost a decade older. It's different." Denny pushed away from the stool. "Are we going to shoot or do each other's hair now?"

"Jerk."

He grinned. "Yet another reason you shouldn't encourage me."

"Whatever." She smiled back at him.

As they played, Aislinn thought about Seth-and about Keenan-and she wasn't sure if she agreed with Denny. Is he right? Is more than a few years too much? Part of her thought he was right. Being with Seth never felt like there was any question of maturity or wisdom or any imbalance. With Keenan she felt like she was constantly stumbling.

She pushed aside her thoughts and concentrated on the game. Carla and Grace made a great team, but Denny was more than their match. They all played for fun; he played for money most weeks.

"Hey, dead weight," he called, "your shot."

Carla laughed. "Ash is just trying to help me out, aren't you?"

"It's as good an explanation as any for the easy shot you missed earlier...." Denny smiled as he gestured to the table.

She didn't miss that one, but she missed more than her share over the next few hours. It was the least complicated evening she'd had in a while-no unspoken issues or worrying about every word she said and each move she made. It was exactly what she'd needed.

When she got home later that night, Aislinn wasn't surprised that Grams was waiting up for her. There might be guards that trailed her these days, and that whole never-let-faeries-know-we-see-them thing was pretty much a moot point now, but Grams still treated her like she was a normal girl. Well, as normal as I ever was. Home was the place where she could be small and afraid. It was where she was chastised for forgetting to add milk to the grocery list if she used the last of it. It was a haven...but that didn't mean that the rest of the world was left at the door.

Aislinn walked into the living room. Grams sat in her favorite chair; she had a cup of tea in hand. Her long gray hair was still plaited but not up.

The braid was longer than Aislinn could stand her own hair ever being. As a child Aislinn had thought Grams was really Rapunzel. If the faeries were real, why not Rapunzel? They lived in a tall building with windows overlooking a strange world. Grams had let her hair grow even longer back then, and it was ashy blond. Aislinn had asked her, once, about her theory.

"But wouldn't I be the witch keeping you safe? Trapping you up here in our tower?"

Aislinn had thought about it. "No, you're Rapunzel, and we're hiding from the witch."

"And what happens if the witch finds us?"

"She'll steal our eyes or make us dead."

"So if we leave our tower?" Grams turned everything into a quiz. Everything was about them, and wrong answers meant staying inside longer. "What are the rules?"

"No looking at the faeries. No talking to faeries. Nothing to attract faeries' attention. Ever." Aislinn counted the big three rules off on her fingers as she said them. "Always follow the rules."

"Exactly." Grams had hugged her then. Her eyes were shimmering with tears. "Breaking the rules will let the witch win."

"Is that what happened to Momma?" Aislinn tried to see Grams' face, hoping for clues. Even then she knew that Grams didn't always answer the whole way.

Grams snuggled her more tightly. "More or less, baby. More or less."

Moira wasn't a subject they discussed. Aislinn looked at Grams, the only mother she'd had, and hated that she'd be so long without her. Eternity was a long time to be without family. Grams, Seth, Leslie, Carla, Rianne, Denny, Grace...everyone she'd known before Keenan would die. And I'll be alone. With just Keenan. She couldn't speak around the ache in her heart.

"There was a special program on the complications of the unexpected weather shift." Grams motioned to the television. She was big on paying attention to the weather now that Aislinn was the embodiment of summer. "A bit on the flooding problems and some theories about the cause of the sudden environmental shifts..."

"We're working on the flood thing." Aislinn kicked off her shoes. "The speculation is harmless though. No one believes in faeries."

"They were talking about how the polar bears are-"

"Grams? Can we not do this tonight?" Aislinn flopped down on the sofa, sinking into the cushions with a comfort she never felt at the loft. No matter how much Keenan tried, that wasn't home. That wasn't where she felt herself. This was.

Grams clicked off the television. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just...Keenan...we had a discussion-" Aislinn wasn't sure of the words she needed. She and Grams talked about dating, s.e.x, drugs, drinking, everything really, but it was usually in the abstract. It wasn't up close and detailed. "I don't know. I went out to Shooters with Carla after. It helped, but...tomorrow, the day after, next year-what am I going to do when I don't have anyone but him?"

"So he's pressuring you already?" Grams didn't waste time. She never had been one for subtleties.

"What do you mean?"

"He's a faery, Aislinn." The loathing wasn't even close to hidden.

"So am I." Aislinn didn't like saying that sentence, not yet, maybe not ever. Grams accepted her, but she had a lifetime of fear and hatred against the very thing Aislinn now was. Her daughter died because of them.

Because of Keenan.

"You're not like them." Grams scowled. "You're certainly not like him."

Aislinn felt the first few tears of frustration burn in her eyes. She didn't want to let them fall. She didn't have enough control yet, and sometimes the weather reacted to her emotions even when she didn't want it to; right now she wasn't sure she could control both her emotions and the sky. She took a calming breath before answering, "He's my partner, my other half...."

"But you're still good. You're honest." Grams came over to the sofa. She pulled Aislinn close.

Aislinn leaned into the embrace, let Grams baby her.

"He's going to push you to do what he wants. It's his way." Grams stroked Aislinn's hair, threading her fingers through the multicolored strands. "He's not used to being rejected."

"I didn't-"

"You rejected his affection. That smarts. All faeries are prideful. He a faery king. Women have been giving themselves to him since he was old enough to notice them."

Aislinn wanted to say that Keenan wasn't interested in her just because she said no. She wanted to say that he was interested in her because of who she was. She wanted to say that their friendship was evolving, and they just needed to find a way to make it make sense. But she wasn't sure if any of that was true. There was a part of her that believed he was simply reacting to her refusal of his attention or to centuries of thinking that queen equated to bedmate. There was another, less comfortable part that believed that because they were partners the compulsion to be more than friends was only going to grow stronger. That part was terrifying.

"I love Seth," she murmured, clinging to that truth, not admitting aloud that loving one person didn't mean not noticing anyone else.

"I know that. So does Keenan." Grams didn't pause in the rhythmic motion of her affection. She always knew how to nurture without smothering. It was something no one else had ever done-not that there'd been anyone else. It had been them, just the two of them, forever.

"So what do I do?"

"Just be you-strong and honest. The rest falls into place if you do that. It always has. It always will. Remember that. No matter what happens over the...centuries ahead of you, remember to be honest with yourself. And if you fail, forgive yourself. You'll make mistakes. The whole world is new, and they have all had so many more years in it than you."

"I wish you were going to always be with me. I'm scared." Aislinn sniffled. "I don't know that I want forever."