She recounted what he’d missed.
“And what did you feel against the shadows?” Keenan’s tone wasn’t hurt or angry now. It was a challenge, the same challenge he’d raised in their prior conversation. “What did you lust for?”
She ducked her head. “That doesn’t…I’m not…telling you. That wasn’t real. It was just a result of some perversion of—”
The words stopped, lies unable to be spoken.
“What you feel for me is not a perversion, Aislinn. Is it so hard to admit that? Can’t you give me that much?” He pushed, as if hearing her say it would change anything, as if that admission mattered as much as the Dark King striking him, as if their personal situation was of tantamount importance.
It isn’t.
“You already know the answer to that—and it doesn’t change anything. I love Seth.” With that, she stood and crossed the room. She tried to tuck that whole uncomfortable topic away as she went toward Seth.
He wasn’t happy either; it was plain on his face.
“He okay?” Seth asked grudgingly as they sat down at a battered table the guards had commandeered for them.
“His pride’s not, but his head seems to be.”
“You?” Seth didn’t push or hover. He trusted her enough to know she would’ve come to him if she needed something.
“Scared.”
“Niall’s…” He shook his head. “I don’t think he’d hurt you. Not really, but when you were in there, I wasn’t really sure. You looked scared when he pushed you against that cage thing. What was that?”
“Dark Court energy, like my sunlight and heat or Don’s ice. Niall’s is other stuff. Fear, anger, and lust. Dark Court things. Like Niall causes.”
“Lust?” Seth repeated.
She blushed.
And Seth said the words she wouldn’t: “But not for Niall.”
He glanced at Keenan, and she saw the sadness in Seth’s eyes. Then he reached out and took Aislinn’s hand.
No pressure. Even now. He trusted her.
The band had started as they sat there; Damali sang something about freedom and bullets. Her voice had an intensity that could carry the band good places, but the lyrics were dismal.
Silently, Keenan joined them at the table. He didn’t look any happier than she felt—or than she suspected Seth felt—with them all being there together.
When the song ended, Seth looked at him and said, “You okay?”
“Yes.” Keenan pressed his lips together in a cross between a grimace and a smile.
The next song began, sparing them from further attempts at civility.
Typically Aislinn wasn’t girlfriend-y in public, but she moved over to sit on Seth’s lap. He slid his arms around her and held on. Somehow, despite the noise of the band, it felt like a silence between them. It wasn’t anger, but it was weighty all the same. They both knew things were more precarious than either of them liked.
Across from her, Keenan caught her gaze before he left. It wasn’t a look she could—or wanted to—understand. Hurt? Angry? It didn’t really matter. All that she knew was that there was a tugging sensation, a compulsion to follow Keenan if he went too far from her side. Usually, if she ignored it long enough, it dulled—or maybe she simply stopped noticing it so much—but those first few moments after he left were horrible. It was growing worse each day. It was like refusing to breathe when she’d just surfaced from too long underwater, like telling her heart to stop its rapid rhythms when she’d been kissed almost long enough.
Seth brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I want it to be.” She leaned in to Seth’s touch. It was better to just be honest. Seth was her anchor, the only thing that made sense most days.
I really can tell him anything. He gets me. She felt foolish for keeping things from him. Again. He’d believed her when she first told him about faeries. He trusted her; she needed to work harder at returning that unwavering trust.
Seth could read her—not through some strange faery bond but because he knew her. It wasn’t why she loved him, but it was part of it. His calm, his honesty, his art, his passion, his words—there were more reasons to love him than she thought possible. Sometimes, it was hard to understand why he’d choose to be with her.