Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely 3)

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.

“So what do I do?”

“Just be you—strong and honest. The rest falls into place if you do that. It always has. It always will. Remember that. No matter what happens over the…centuries ahead of you, remember to be honest with yourself. And if you fail, forgive yourself. You’ll make mistakes. The whole world is new, and they have all had so many more years in it than you.”

“I wish you were going to always be with me. I’m scared.” Aislinn sniffled. “I don’t know that I want forever.”

“Neither did Moira.” Grams did pause then. “She made a stupid choice, though. You…you’re stronger than she was.”

“Maybe I don’t

want to be strong.”

Grams made a small noise that was almost a laugh. “You might not want to, but you’ll do it anyhow. That’s what strength is. We walk the path we’re given. Moira gave up on living. She did some things that were…dangerous to herself. Slept with strangers. Did God-knows-what when she…Don’t get me wrong. I got you out of her mistakes. And she obviously didn’t do anything that made you born as an addict. She didn’t end your life or give you to them either. She let me have you. Even at the end, she made some tough choices.”

“But?”

“But she wasn’t the woman you are.”

“I’m just a girl…. I—”

“You’re leading a faery court. You’re dealing with their politics. I think you’ve earned the right to be called a woman.” Grams’ voice was stern. It was the one that she used when she talked about feminism and freedom and racial equality and all of those things that she’d held to like some folks hold to a religion.

“I don’t feel ready.”

“Honey, none of us ever does. I’m not ready to be an old lady. I wasn’t ready to be a mother either time—to you or to Moira. And I surely wasn’t ready to lose her.”

“Or me.”

“I’m not losing you. That’s the only gift the faeries ever gave me. You’ll be here, strong and alive long after I’m dust. You’re never going to want for money or safety or health.” Grams sounded fierce now. “Almost everything I could want for you they gave you, but only because you were strong enough to take it. I’m never going to like them, but the fact that my baby is going to be fine after I’m gone…It goes a long way to making me forgive them for all the rest.”

“She didn’t actually die in childbirth, did she?” Aislinn had never asked, but she knew the stories didn’t add up. She’d heard Keenan and Grams talk last fall.

“No. She didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ever just tell me?”

Grams was silent for a few moments. Then she said, “You read a book when you were little, and you told me you knew why your mother left you. You were so sure that it wasn’t her fault, that she was just not strong enough to be a mother. You said you were like the girls in the stories whose mothers died so they could live.” Grams’ smile was tentative. “What was I to do? It was a little bit true: she wasn’t strong enough, just not the way you meant it. I couldn’t tell you she chose to leave us because she was mostly faery when you were born. In your version, she was noble and heroic.”