“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 prickly. 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, sex, 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.