Melissa Marr - Fragile Eternity

“Keenan…”

“You asked for honesty.”

He wasn’t lying. He couldn’t. It doesn’t matter. His telling her these things didn’t, couldn’t matter.

Aislinn could feel the sunlight that lived somewhere in the center of her. It stretched out to fill her skin to bursting. She was responding to Keenan’s brief touch with an intensity that she’d felt only with Seth—which was wrong.

Is it? A traitorous voice whispered inside her. He’s my king, my partner….

She put a hand on Keenan’s chest, intending to push him away, but sunlight pulsed between them at the contact. Their bodies were a giant conduit; sunlight looped between them like a stream of energy that grew stronger as it slipped through the barrier of skin.

His eyes widened, and he drew several unsteady breaths. He leaned toward her, and she felt herself leaning into him. Her arm was bent at the elbow so that—although she still had a hand on him as if to push him back—they were chest to chest, her arm pressed between them.

And he kissed her, something he’d only done when she was mortal. Once, she had been lost under the dizziness of too much summer wine and too many hours dancing in his arms. The second time was a taste of seduction when she was telling him to leave her alone. But this time, the third time, he kissed her so gently that it was barely a brush of lips. It was a question as much as a kiss. It was affection, and somehow that made it worse.

She pulled away. “Stop.”

Her word wasn’t much beyond a whisper, but he still paused. “Are you sure?”

She couldn’t answer. No lying. She could taste the ripeness of summer in the words, a promise of what she could have if she came just a moment closer.

“I need you to move back.” She concentrated on the meaning of those words, on the feel of the sofa, on the spines of the leather-bound books she could see on the wall behind Keenan—on anything but him.

She lowered her hand from his chest.

Slowly. Just concentrate on what matters. My life. My choices. Seth.

Keenan pulled back as well, watching her intently as he did so. “The court would be dying if it weren’t for you.”

“I know that.” She couldn’t move any farther away. There was nowhere to go; the sofa arm was already digging into her back.

“I would be useless without you,” he continued.

She clutched the pillow in her lap like it was a shield she could hold between them. “You held the court together for nine centuries without me.”

He nodded. “And it was worth it. Every torture was worth it for where we are now and for where we could be if you accept me someday. If we had the time to just be together as we should be…”

For another too-long moment, she stayed still, trying to find the words to diffuse the tension that had sprung up. This wasn’t the first time he’d been so expressive in his words, but it was the first time he’d reached out to touch her skin in anything other than casual affection. The combination was too much.

“Space?” Her voice broke on the word.

He moved back farther. “Only because you ask it of me.”

She felt lightheaded.

Keenan gave her a strained smile.

She stood on unsteady legs and walked to the door. She pulled the door open and clutched the doorknob 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.”

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 space, 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 balls?”

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 classmates—but they didn’t draw age or class 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.