then. Ever.”
“She’s nice.” The argument was an old one, but she hadn’t given up yet—or made any progress.
“Nope. Not going to risk it.” He kissed her forehead. “As long as she doesn’t meet me she can’t look at me, and say, ‘Stay away from my girl.’”
“Nothing wrong with how you look.”
“Yeah?” He smiled gently. “Would she think that?”
Aislinn thought so, but she hadn’t been able to convince Seth of it.
They continued in silence until they reached the shop. The front of the tat shop was almost all windows, making it seem less intimidating to any curious ink seekers, but unlike the tattoo parlors she’d seen when they went up to Pittsburgh, this was not a glossy shop. Pins and Needles retained some of the grit of the art, not catering to the trendy crowd—not that Huntsdale had much of a trendy crowd.
The cowbell on the door clanged when they walked in. Rabbit, the owner, peeked out of one of the rooms, waved, and disappeared.
Seth went to a long coffee table against the wall that had portfolios piled on top of it. He found the new one and sat down with it. “You want to look with me?”
“Nope.” Aislinn went up to the glass case where bars, rings, and studs were laid out. That’s what she wanted. She only had a single hole in each ear, but every time they came in, she considered getting a piercing. Nothing in her face, though, not this year: Bishop O’Connell High School had strict rules about facial piercings.
One of the two piercers stood up behind the cabinet. “You ready for a labret yet?”
“Not till I graduate.”
He shrugged and went back to cleaning the glass.
The bell clanged again. Leslie, a friend from school, walked in with a heavily inked guy, far from the sort she dated. He was beautiful: close-cropped hair, perfect features, blue-black eyes. He was also fey.
Aislinn froze, watching him, feeling the world tilt under her. Too many faeries wearing human faces tonight. Too many strong fey.
But this faery barely looked her way as he went to the back room, trailing his hands over one of the steel-framed jewelry cabinets he passed.
She couldn’t look away, not yet. Most faeries didn’t walk downtown; they didn’t touch iron bars; and they sure as hell didn’t walk around able to hold a glamour while touching poisonous metal. There were rules. She’d lived by those rules. There were a few exceptions—the rare strong fey—but not this many, not at the same time, and not in her safe spaces.
“Ash?” Leslie reached her hand out. “Hey. You all right?”
Aislinn shook her head. Nothing is right anymore. Nothing.
“I’m good.” She looked toward the room where the faery waited. “Who’s your friend?”
“Tasty, isn’t he?” Leslie made a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. “I just met him outside.”
Seth put the book down and crossed the room.
“You ready to go?” He slid a steadying arm around Aislinn’s waist. “I can—”
“In a sec.” She glanced at the faery with Rabbit; their voices were barely more than a whisper. Forcing her paranoia aside, she turned her attention to Leslie. “You’re not taking him to Ri’s, are you?”
“Irial? What, you don’t think he’d be a hit?”
“He’s certainly different than your usual”—she bit her lip and tried to act like everything was normal—“vic—…I mean, partners.”
Leslie shot him a longing look. “Unfortunately he doesn’t seem interested.”
Aislinn held in the sigh of relief that Leslie wasn’t going to try to pursue the faery. Life was already complicated enough.
“I wanted to see if you’re coming to the party.” Leslie grinned—somewhat viciously—at Seth. “Both of you.”
“No.” Seth didn’t elaborate. He tolerated Leslie, but tolerate was the best he could do. Most of the girls who went to Bishop O.C. weren’t people he willingly hung with.
“Something better going on?” Leslie asked in a conspiratorial voice.
“Always. I only go to those fiascos if she insists.” Seth gestured toward Aislinn. “You ready?”
“Five minutes,” Aislinn murmured, and then felt guilty immediately: it wasn’t like they were on a date or anything.
She didn’t want to make Seth wait, but she didn’t want to leave a friend alone with a faery strong enough to touch iron. She certainly wasn’t leaving a friend alone with one wearing a human guise that would make even the shyest girls pant. And Leslie definitely wasn’t shy.
Aislinn glanced back at Seth. “If you want to head out, I can go with Leslie….”
“No.” He gave her a briefly irritated look before he wandered away to look at the flash on the walls.
“So what are you doing?” Leslie asked.
“What?” Aislinn looked back at Leslie, who was grinning. “Oh, nothing really. He’s just walking me home.”
“Hmm.” Leslie tapped her fingernails on the glass case, oblivious to the piercer’s glares as she did so.
Aislinn knocked Leslie’s hand off the case. “What?”
“And that’s better than a party?” Leslie linked an arm around Aislinn and whispered, “When are you going to give the poor thing a break, Ash? It’s sad, really, how you string him along.”
“I don’t…we’re friends. He’d say something if he”—she lowered her voice and glanced back at Seth—“you know.”
“He’s talking, girl. You’re just too thick to hear it.”
“He’s just flirty. Even if he meant it, I don’t want a one-nighter, especially with him.”
Leslie shook her head and sighed melodramatically. “You need to live a little, girl. There’s nothing wrong with a little quick love if they’re good. I hear he’s good.”
Aislinn didn’t want to think about that, about him with other girls. She knew Seth went out; even if she didn’t see the girls, she was sure they were there. Better to be just friends than one of his throwaway girls. She didn’t want to talk about Seth, so she asked Leslie, “Who’s going tonight?”
Trying to keep unpleasant thoughts at bay, Aislinn half listened to Leslie go on about the party. Rianne’s cousin had invited some of the guys from his frat.
Glad we’re skipping it. Seth would hate that crowd.
When Leslie’s brother walked in, Seth came back over and put his arm around Aislinn’s shoulder, almost territorially, while they talked.
Leslie mouthed, “Deaf.”
Aislinn leaned on Seth, ignoring Leslie, her brother’s comments about scoring some X, the faery in the back room, all of it. When Seth was beside her, she could keep it together. Why would she be stupid enough to risk what they had, to risk him, for a fling?
CHAPTER 4
“When you will be King of Summer she will be your queen. Of this your mother, Queen Beira, has full knowledge, and it is her wish to keep you away from [her], so that her own reign may be prolonged.”
—Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend by Donald Alexander Mackenzie (1917)
On the outskirts of Huntsdale in a gorgeous Victorian estate that no realtor could sell—or remember to show—Keenan hesitated, hand lifted. He paused, watching