"Always."

"Stay home tonight." She picked out a few thicker stems. She glanced back at the door, a suddenly thin barrier against the growing number of faeries outside.

"I could ask you the same," he murmured. He held her tightly.

She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek on his chest. "If I don't get answers soon, Grams is going to pull me out of school. I can't stall her much longer, and I don't want to lie to her and say they've gone away."

"I could come with you…"

"He's not going to talk to me if I bring you along. I need him to think I'm believing him." She stretched up so she could kiss him, and then added, "If this doesn't work, we'll try something else."

He looked worried, afraid—things she didn't want to see, didn't want him to feel—but finally he nodded. "Be safe, okay?"

"I'll do my best…"

Because if she didn't, everything would be taken away— school, friends, Seth, everything. Keenan needed to let something slip. The faeries needed to say something that could help her figure out how to get rid of him. They simply had to.

A half hour later Aislinn walked down Sixth Street, feeling more apprehensive with each step. Thinking about the faery coming into Seth's home didn't make matters any better. What if I hadn't been there? Would they hurt him? She hadn't wanted to leave Seth, or meet Keenan, or deal with the whole debacle, but she needed answers. Keenan had them.

He stood outside the entrance to the carnival, looking so normal that it was hard to remember that he was one of them, and not just court fey but a king. He reached out as if he'd embrace her. "Aislinn."

She stepped backward, easily dodging him.

"I'm so glad you came." Keenan looked terribly serious.

At a loss for what to say, she shrugged.

"Shall we?" He held out his arm, like they were at a formal dance or something.

"Sure." She ignored his arm—and his brief frown—as she followed him toward the maze of booths that had seemingly sprung up overnight.

People milled around, an impossibly large crowd. Families and couples played games on every side. Many of them had sweet-smelling drinks—some sort of golden slushy thing.

"You're just so" — he stared at her, smiling that inhuman smile—"I'm just so honored that you joined me."

Aislinn nodded, like he made sense. He didn't. This is ridiculous. His too-eager comments made her feel increasingly uncomfortable.

Beside her, a group of girls tried to throw tiny plastic balls onto glass platters. Overhead the lights of the Ferris wheel sparkled. People laughed and cuddled close to one another as they walked by.

Then Keenan took her hand, and suddenly her Sight was so clear that she gasped. Everywhere she looked, glamours faded. The workers running the booths, the concessions, the rides…They're all fey. All the carnies and quite a few of the guests were faeries. Oh my God. She'd never seen such a large crowd of faeries before.

Everywhere she looked, disguised faeries smiled back at her, friendly and happy.

Why are so many faeries wearing human faces?

Some real humans milled about, playing rigged games and riding rickety rides, but the faeries didn't stare at them. She was the one they all watched.

Keenan waved to a group of faeries who had called out to him. "Old friends. Do you want to meet them?"

"No." She bit down on her lip and looked around again, feeling her chest tighten.

He frowned.

"Not right now." She forced a smile, hoping he'd think her nervousness was just shyness.

Control. She took a deep breath and tried to sound friendly. "I thought we were going to get to know each other."

"Right." He smiled like she'd given him some rare and precious gift. "What can I tell you?"

"Umm, what about your family?" Aislinn stumbled, feet as unsteady as her breaking.

"I live with my uncles." he said as he led her forward, past a group of faeries that—until a moment ago—looked like they could go to Bishop O.C.

Several gestured toward her, but no one approached. In fact, the others moved out of Keenan's path as he led her toward a row of booths where the now-revealed faeries ran carnival games.

"Your uncles?" she repeated, feeling increasingly doubtful that coming was a wise idea. She pulled her hand free. "Right, the guys who were at school."

Faeries. Just like almost everyone here. She felt dizzy.

She tried again. "What about your parents?"

"My father died before I was born" — he paused, looking not sad, but angry—"but everything I am is his gift."

Did faeries die? She wasn't at all sure how to respond to his odd comment, so she simply said, "My mom is gone too. Childbirth."

"I'm sorry." He took her hand again, squeezed it affectionately, and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I'm sure she was a good woman. And she must've been lovely to be your mother."

"I'm not much like her." Aislinn swallowed hard. All she had was pictures. In the pictures Grams had around the house, her mother always looked haunted, like she couldn't quite handle the things she could see. Grams never spoke of her mother's last year, as if it hadn't existed.

"What about your father? Is he a good man?" He stopped, holding her hand while they stood there, surrounded by faeries, talking about their families.

If she hadn't been able to see the oddly shaped eyes and strange smiles on the faeries who listened, it might seem so very normal. It wasn't.

She started to walk away, going toward one of the concession stands where they were selling those sweet-smelling drinks.

"Aislinn?"

She shrugged, more comfortable talking about a father she knew nothing of than the mother who'd given her the Sight. "Who knows? Grams doesn't know who he is, and Mom's not here to tell us."

"At least you have your grandmother." He reached up with his free hand and stroked her cheek. "I'm glad you have had that, a loving caretaker."

She started to answer, but headed toward them were Pointy-Face and about six of the other faeries who liked to linger at Shooters, harassing the regulars, chasing her away from the pool hall with their very presence. She froze, unable to move, years of instinct overriding logic.

"Aislinn? What's wrong?" He moved in front of her, blocking her view of everyone and everything but him. "Have I offended you?"

"No. I'm just" — she offered him what she hoped was a convincing smile and lied—"chilly."

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, gently. "How's that?"

"Better." And it was. If he were what he pretended to be—kind and considerate—she might've felt bad that she was here on false pretenses.

But he wasn't. He wasn't real at all.

"Come on. Let's walk. There's always some interesting games here." He took her hand again, bringing her Sight back in full force.

Beside them, a woman stood in a child's wading pool calling, "Three darts for a prize."

A thick braid dangled like a rope past her knees. Her face was like one of those angels in old paintings, innocent with a spark of danger in her eyes. Aside from the goats' legs that peeked out of her long skirt, she was gorgeous, but no one approached her.

At the next tent a steady line of faeries and humans waited. Faces Aislinn had glimpsed around the city mingled with faeries she could never have imagined—wings and thorn-crusted skin and all manners of dress. It was too much to process.

Aislinn paused, overwhelmed by the sheer number and variety of faeries around her.