Melissa Marr - Fragile Eternity

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 bastard, 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. Sex 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 bastard, 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. Lust isn’t reason enough.

But as Keenan stroked her hair absently while they watched Once , it didn’t feel like lust 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 space, 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 grass. A dark-haired girl wearing sunglasses 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.