Fragile Eternity Part 23

She nodded, and then she said the words that she wished she didn't have to, "It's been weeks without a word. I don't think he'll be back, but I can't let go."

"Let me be your friend, Aislinn. That's all I'm suggesting today. If the rest happens or doesn't, we can deal with that part later. No pressure, just an open door." He held out his arms for an embrace. "For now, just let me be here for you. We need to try to move forward instead of standing here weeping and waiting."

She let him hold her. Her sigh caught between pleasure and remorse as he stroked her hair, letting sunlight slide down the strands until she was languid, at peace as she rarely was these days.

"It'll be okay. One way or another, things will be okay in the end," he promised.

She wasn't sure if he was speaking opinion or truth, but for now, she let herself believe him.

Happiness is a choice.

Chapter 25.

Another month pa.s.sed without word. Summer was in full strength. Graduation had come and gone, but Aislinn only knew this because her diploma was waiting at her house one afternoon.

"I'm sorry I missed it," Aislinn told Grams. "If you'd wanted..."

"It's okay, sweetie." Grams patted the sofa.

Aislinn went to her. It felt like each step was through too-thick air. "I'm trying. It feels like the sun is choking me some days. And Seth...I still don't know."

"It'll get easier. Being this will get easier. I can't say I understand, but"-Grams took Aislinn's hand-"you are stronger than you know. Don't forget that."

Aislinn had her doubts. She felt like she was crawling out of her skin. The earth wasn't merely stretching after its long slumber under Beira's oppressive winter weight; it was trying to find outlets for decades of pent-up energy, and she was the conduit. Each dawn brought her closer to the other half of that heat-her king, her friend, her not-lover. She knew it wasn't a logical thing, the way she tracked his movements. It wasn't even a romantic thing. It was simple need. It embarra.s.sed her. l.u.s.t was to be tied to love; with Seth, it had been. With him, she'd felt friendship, love, trust. With Keenan, she had friendship and a sort of trust, but there was no real love. There was something missing.

Grams sat silently beside her. The only sound was the steady tick of a cuckoo clock on the wall. It should be peaceful, but Aislinn still felt like running. Everywhere she went, she felt a pressure inside that she couldn't escape.

Except with Keenan.

Then Grams broke the silence. "If Seth can't handle what you are, that's his loss."

"I'm the one who's lost," Aislinn whispered. "Everything feels wrong without him here."

"But?"

"He's been gone for two months, and Keenan-"

"Is deceitful, Ash." Grams kept most of the censure from her voice.

"Sometimes. Not always."

"He's a conniving b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but he'll be in your life forever-" Grams sighed. "Just be sure you're careful with how much you let him in. Or how fast. Don't let this summer thing or your hurt make you foolish. s.e.x isn't ever the same as love."

"I'm not..." Aislinn looked away. "We haven't. I've only...with Seth."

"You wouldn't be the first one who fell into a new bed out of loneliness or longing, sweetie. Just be sure you're ready for the consequences if you do." Grams stood then. "Let's get some food in you. I can't fix it all, but I still have comfort food."

"And advice."

Grams smiled and motioned toward the kitchen. "Fudge or ice cream?"

"Both."

Later that night, while Aislinn was curled up beside Keenan watching a movie, she thought about what Grams had said. He wasn't a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, not always, not to her. He was ruthless in pursuit of what he thought was best for his court, but he was also considerate and gentle. She'd seen him with the Summer Girls. He cared for them. He cared for the rowan, and not just as subjects, but also as individuals. He was impulsive and frivolous, the essence of summer.

He's a good person, too. Maybe not always, but for a faery king, he was remarkably good. For someone who'd struggled since birth just to get to where he should've always been, he was remarkably kind. And he's here for me.

She leaned her head on him and tried to follow the movie. They'd been doing that a lot, just being near each other late at night. She couldn't sleep, and unless she was at Grams' apartment, Keenan was awake the moment she was. She wondered if he was awakened when she was at Grams' too. She hadn't asked. She just started spending more nights at the loft.

Grams didn't comment. She could see the pacing energy that filled Aislinn as they moved toward Solstice, and Aislinn's despair at Seth's absence became too much. You need to be where you feel more at peace, sweetie, Grams had said, and that's not here with me right now. Go to your court.

Being with Keenan was a weird mix of comfort and longing. He was true to his word in keeping a marked distance, treating her solicitously but not pressing her. The only times he was overtly affectionate were their late-night movies. They'd watched more than a dozen by now.

The movie that night wasn't funny or action-filled but a romance of sorts: an indie film about street musicians falling in love while they both belonged elsewhere. The music and the message were perfect, poignant and heartbreaking. The combination spoke to her, reminded her not to cross lines that would do irreparable damage all around. l.u.s.t isn't reason enough.

But as Keenan stroked her hair absently while they watched Once, it didn't feel like l.u.s.t was all they had.

Sometime during the movie, she must have drifted off to sleep because when she looked up the screen was black. She had shifted so she was lying with her head on a pillow in his lap, but Keenan was still running his hand over her hair as he had been when she'd been watching the movie.

"Sorry." She blinked and looked up at him.

"You needed sleep. It's a compliment that you trust me enough to rest here."

She blushed and then felt foolish for it. It wasn't like she'd never woken up with friends. She'd crashed at Carla's place and at Rianne's and even at Leslie's before things had changed so much. Waking up beside Keenan-okay, on him-wasn't a big deal. She looked outside. Dawn was just breaking. He'd been holding her while she slept for hours. Before she could say anything, Keenan stood.

"Get changed." Keenan pulled her to her feet as he said the words.

"For?"

"Breakfast out. Meet me downstairs." Then he departed before she could ask anything or find words to tell him she appreciated his helping her feel secure enough to rest. She scowled at the door he'd left through. His distance during daylight hours made her feel awkward. On the one hand, she appreciated his keeping to his word not to pressure her, but on the other, it made her feel guilty. Once upon a time, he'd promised her that her wishes would be as his own. Despite his moments of telling her that what he wanted was different, he'd kept true to that. For not the first time, she wondered if she could've loved him if her heart wasn't already given to Seth.

She was so tired of wondering, of doubts, of worries. Getting a decent night's sleep helped, but worrying over the same thoughts she'd been having for months didn't. Putting those thoughts away, she went to her room and got ready.

Downstairs, Keenan was waiting by the Thunderbird. They didn't take the car often, so she was a little surprised.

He seemed nervous. "No questions yet."

"Okay." She got in and watched the sky brighten as he drove them out of town toward farmlands she'd been to on rare school field trips and even rarer photo excursions, when Grams could be convinced that she would follow the rules about the faeries. Back then, trips to dangerous expanses of iron-free nature were exceedingly rare. Now, it was safe. The crowds of faeries in the fields and among the trees weren't a danger to her.

Keenan pulled into a gravel lot. A battered wooden sign, hand-painted and fading, proclaimed peg & john's orchard. On the other side of the vast and mostly empty parking lot stretched apple trees in long rows. As Aislinn looked, all she could see were branches and leaves and apples.

She'd never seen so many healthy trees. Even from this distance, she could see the ripening apples that clung to their strong branches.

When she got out of the car, he was already at her door.

"This is it, the orchard where..." She wasn't sure she wanted to finish that sentence.

Keenan didn't hesitate to say the words, to put the weight of it out there in front of her. "I brought one other person here, but"-he took her hands in his-"you're the only one who's ever come knowing what it means to me. I thought we could have breakfast here."

"Can we walk first? So I can see it." She felt shy. It wasn't a casual thing he was offering her-not that anything between them had ever been casual. This was his private s.p.a.ce, though; bringing her here was a gift.

He let go of her hands and got a cooler out of the car. After taking her hand again, he led her across the uneven lot. The crunch of gravel under her feet seemed loud in the empty air between them.

At the edge of the lot was a patch of gra.s.s. A dark-haired girl wearing sungla.s.ses sat on a chair behind a table covered in baskets. An old cash register sat on the table. She looked at Keenan suspiciously. "You're not usually back so soon."

"My friend needed to come somewhere special," he said.

The girl rolled her eyes, but she motioned at the baskets. "Go on."

Keenan gave her a blinding smile, but her dismissive look didn't alter. Aislinn found herself liking the girl for her instinctive mistrust. A pretty face didn't mean someone was harmless, and Keenan, for all his kindnesses, could be ruthless.

Aislinn let go of Keenan's hand and took a basket from the table.

"Come on." He led her under fruit-heavy branches, away from the world. All I need is a red cape. She felt childhood panics rise up for a moment: venturing into the woods where faeries lurked was never safe. Grams had taught her that. Little Red had found danger because she went away from the safety of steel. He's my friend. Aislinn pushed aside her twinge of mistrust and looked at the apples hanging overhead.

Casually, as if it wasn't unusual, she took his hand again.

He said nothing. Neither did she. They walked hand in hand, wandering among trees he'd nurtured even when Winter held dominion over the earth.

Finally, they stopped in a small clearing. He set the cooler down and released her hand. "Here."

"Okay." She sat in the gra.s.s under a tree and looked at him.

He sat beside her, near enough that it felt unnatural not to touch him. She shivered even though it was warm. The loss of his hand meant that the warmth that had been zinging between them had receded.

"This was my haven for years when I needed a place that was just mine." He looked lost then; clouds flickered in his eyes. "I remember when they were saplings. The mortals were so determined to make them thrive."

"So you helped."

He nodded. "Sometimes, things just need a little attention and time to grow." When she didn't reply, he added, "I was thinking last night. About things. About what you said before...when I kissed you."

She tensed.

"You said you wanted complete honesty. If we're to be true friends, that's what we must do." He ran his fingers through the gra.s.s between them. Tiny wild violets sprouted. "So here we are. Ask me anything."

"Anything?" She plucked at the gra.s.s beside her, enjoying the strength of it. The soil was healthy; the plants were strong. She could feel the web of tree roots under them. She thought about it, what he was offering. There weren't many things she could think to ask, except..."Tell me about Moira. You and Grams are the only ones I can ask."

"She was beautiful, and she didn't like me. Many of the others...Almost all of them"-he grinned-"with a few exceptions, were pliable. They were eager to fall in love. She wasn't." He shrugged. "I cared for each of them. I still do."

"But?"

"I had to become what they wanted to help them love me. Sometimes that meant adopting the fashion of the day, their newest dances, poets, origami...finding out what they liked and learning about it."

"Why not be yourself?"

"Sometimes I tried. With Don-" He stopped himself. "She was different, but we were talking about your mother. Moira was clever. I know now that she knew what I was, but at the time I didn't."

"Did you...I mean...I know you seduced...I mean, it's..." She blushed brighter than the apples above them. Asking her friend, her king, her maybe-something-more if he'd slept with her mother was weird by any standard.

"No. I never slept with any of the Summer Girls when they were mortal." He looked away, obviously as uncomfortable with the topic as she was. "I've never slept with a mortal. I kissed some of them-but not her, not Moira. She treated me with contempt almost from the beginning. No amount of charm, no gift, no words, nothing I tried worked."

"Oh."

"She was sort of like you, Aislinn. Strong. Clever. Afraid of me." He winced at the memory. "I didn't understand it, but she looked at me like I was a monster. So when she ran, I couldn't follow her. I knew she'd have to come back when she became a Summer Girl. I knew she wouldn't accept the test, so I let her go."

"And what? Waited?"

"I couldn't un-choose someone once she was chosen." Keenan looked sad. "I knew she was special. Just like you. When I realized that you were the one, I wondered if she would've been my queen if..."

"I've wondered too." She realized they were whispering even though the faeries that she'd seen in the orchard weren't anywhere near. "Or if I'm this because she was changing when she had me."

"If I'd have done things differently-brought her back-how many things would've been different? If I'd known she was pregnant, you would've been raised by the court. You wouldn't have resisted if you'd grown up with us. You wouldn't have been so involved with mortals."

She knew exactly what mortal involvement he was thinking of, but she couldn't consider even for a heartbeat that her life would've been better without her mortal life. Loving Seth was the most perfect thing she'd known, and his love would be the only true love she'd ever know. That wasn't something to wish away, even now when her heart ached. Of course, saying all of that to the faery she was tied to for eternity wasn't something either of them needed.

"I'm glad you didn't know," she said.

"That year while Moira was away, pregnant with you, I spent all the free time I suddenly had trying to convince Don to forgive me." He looked wistful. "Some nights she would deign to sit with me. We went to a revel together...and..."

"Does it get easier?"

He glanced at her. "Does what get easier?"

"Losing someone you love."

"No." He looked away. "I kept thinking one of her rejections would be the one that stopped hurting, but it was when she didn't reject me that it hurt worse. I thought that we had a few years, but now...He's gone, Ash, and I can't not be around you. You're my queen. I can't not be drawn to you. If I could set you free somehow and make Donia my queen, I would, but I can't. And if there's a chance that you and I might become more, I will be here with you."

"And Donia is..."

"Not something I want to discuss right now. Please?" He held Aislinn's gaze and said, "I need time before I can talk about her."

"So we try to figure out how to be happy with what we do have," she added.

It wasn't love she felt, not like she felt for Seth, but there was friendship. There was longing. She could convince herself it was enough. If this was to be her future, she could do it. Loving someone meant being hurt; choosing pa.s.sion with a friend was safer. Maybe it was calculating, keeping her heart safe, but it wasn't only selfish: it would make their court stronger. It made good sense.

She didn't want to fall in love with anyone else-not that she wanted to tell him that. How do you tell someone that even though you'll be together for centuries, you don't want to love him? Keenan deserved better.

They sat there, talking about the courts, faeries, stories from their lives-just talking. Finally, he paused. "Stay right here," he said. Then he vanished.

She leaned against the tree, content for a change, at peace with her world.