The faery guards exchanged knowing looks.

"There's a carnival tonight." He held out a hand for her books.

Stupidly she started to hand them to him, but stopped herself. "What about your big plans?"

"Just say yes." He waited expectantly.

Finally she nodded. "As friends."

He stepped back as she closed her locker. "Of course. Friends."

Rianne, Leslie, and Carla came over then.

"Well?" Rianne prompted. "Did she say yes?"

"She shot him down, didn't you, Ash?" Leslie patted Keenan's arm consolingly. "Don't worry. She turns everyone down."

"Not everyone." Keenan looked entirely too pleased with himself. "We're going to the carnival."

"What?" Aislinn looked from Rianne to Keenan. They knew?

"Pay up." Rianne held a hand out to Leslie, who grudgingly pulled a crumpled bill out of her pocket, and then turned to Carla. "You too."

"Pay up?" Aislinn echoed, following them toward the cafeteria.

Behind her, she heard several guards laughing.

"I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him."

"He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look. "We've tried to teach her manners, but…" She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was still a puppy, maybe."

Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof."

Turning to Aislinn, Carla lowered her voice. "When we saw you two talking, she wouldn't let us come over until she was sure he had asked you. She actually grabbed Leslie."

"It's not a date," Aislinn muttered.

"Right. We're just going to talk, get to know each other," Keenan agreed. He paused, looking at each of them, glowing just a little as he did it. "In fact, you can join us if you want. Meet some of my old friends."

Aislinn's heart sped. "No."

"Sounds like a date to me. Don't worry. I'm not coming on your date, Ash." Rianne sighed, like something wonderful had just happened, and turned to Carla. "What do you think?"

Carla nodded. "Definitely a date."

"Aislinn is accompanying me as a friend," Keenan said with a contented look. "I'm simply honored that she's joining me at all."

Aislinn looked at him, at her friends who were staring at him adoringly.

He caught her gaze and smiled.

She didn't speed up as he kept pace with her. Now that Keenan seemed pleased, the compulsion she'd been feeling had faded to barely a whisper.

I can handle this.

But as he pulled out her chair with an unusual courtly gesture, she saw her reflection in his eyes, surrounded by a tiny halo of sun.

I hope.

When Donia returned home from her evening walk, Beira was waiting on the porch, reclining in a chair fashioned of ice.

Almost idly the Winter Queen sculpted screaming faces on a sheet of ice beside her. It looked like the faeries in the sculpture were trapped alive, writhing and shrieking.

"Donia, darling," Beira gushed, coming to her feet with such grace that it looked like she'd been pulled upright with invisible strings. "I was beginning to wonder if I should send Agatha after you."

The hag in question grinned, exposing gaps where a number of her teeth should've been.

"Beira. How very…" Donia couldn't find a word that wouldn't be a lie. Unexpected? Pleasant? No, neither of those. "What can I do for you?"

"Such a good question, that one." Beira tapped her chin with one finger.

"Now, if only my son had the good manners to ask that" — Beira frowned petulantly—"but he doesn't."

Across the yard, at the edge of the trees, several guards saluted. The rowan-man waved.

"Do you know what that boy did?"

Donia didn't answer; it wasn't really a question. Just like Keenan. It'd be a relief not to be stuck between them.

"He went to the girls school. Enrolled there, like a mortal. Can you imagine?" Beira began pacing, the staccato rhythm of her steps cracking like falling sleet on the battered porch. "He's spent the week with her, trailing behind her like that dog of yours."

"Wolf. Sasha is a wolf."

"Wolf, dog, coyote, whatever. The point" — Beira paused, standing so still she could've been carved of ice— "the point, Donia, is that he's found an in. Do you understand what that means? He is making progress; you are not. You're failing me."

Agatha cackled.

Beira turned, slowly, deliberately. She crooked a finger. "Come here."

Not yet realizing her error, Agatha stepped onto the porch with her grin still in place.

"Is it amusing then that my son could win? That he could undo everything I've built?" Beira put one finger under Agatha's chin, her long manicured fingernail cutting into the hag's skin. A line of blood trickled down her throat. "I don't find it the least bit funny, Aggie dear."

"'S not what I meant, my Queen." Agatha's eyes widened. She glanced at Donia, imploring.

"Aggie, Aggie, Aggie" — Beira tsk-tsked—"Donia won't help you. She couldn't even if she wanted to."

Donia looked away, staring instead at the ever-present rowan-man. He shuddered in sympathy. They'd all seen Beira's temper before, but it was still awful.

Holding the hag tightly in her embrace now, Beira put her lips to Agatha's withered mouth and blew.

All the while Agatha tried to escape, her hands pushed against Beira's shoulder, clutched at the Winter Queen's wrists. Sometimes the Winter Queen relented; sometimes she did not.

Today she did not.

Agatha fought, but it was futile: only another monarch could stand against Beira.

"Well then," Beira murmured as Agatha's body slumped forward, limp in Beira's embrace.

Agatha's spirit—a shade now—stood beside them, wringing her hands, weeping soundlessly.

Beira licked her lips. "I feel better."

She dropped Agatha's body to the ground.

Agatha's shade knelt beside her now lifeless body. Ice crystals fell from the corpse's open mouth, trailed down her sunken cheeks.

"Go on, now." Beira shooed the soundlessly weeping shade with a gesture, like she'd brush off an insect. Then she turned to Donia. "Work faster, girl. My tolerance wears thin."

Without waiting for an answer, Beira walked away—the shade of Agatha trailing behind her—leaving Donia to deal with the corpse on the porch.

Donia stared at Agatha—at the body that used to be Agatha. The ice had melted, leaving a puddle soaking the hag's hair.

That could be me. It will be me someday if I fail Beira…

"May I help?" the rowan-man stood close enough that she should've known he was there long before he spoke.

She glanced up at him. His gray-brown skin and dark-green leafy hair made him almost a shadow in the dark. If it weren't for his bright red eyes, he'd almost blend into the growing evening.

Evening? How long have I been standing here? She sighed.

He gestured to the other guards who waited back at the tree line. "We could take her with us. The soil is moist; her shell would fade quickly in the loam."

Donia swallowed the sickness that threatened to rise.

"Does Keenan know yet?" she whispered, embarrassed that she still worried over how he felt.

"Skelley already went to tell him."

Donia nodded.

Skelley? Which one is he? She tried to focus, think about the guardsmen. Better that than thinking about Agatha.

Skelley, he was one of the court guards, thin, like the Scrimshaw Sisters, gentle. He'd wept when she'd frozen the guards before. Still he stayed, taking his turns guarding her, doing as Keenan ordered.