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"Tell me that you meant to tell me, Kaye," he said, eyes bright.
She struggled to be more fully awake. Nothing about this scene made sense, certainly not the anguish so plain on his face.
"You were going to tell me that you were a faerie," he insisted. "There was no time."
She nodded, still stunned by sleep. He seemed huge; the whole room was swallowed up by his presence so that it was impossible to look anywhere but into his eyes.
"Tell me," he said, letting go of her shoulders, his hands moving to smooth the hair back from her face in a rough caress.
"I never meant… I wanted to," she stammered drowsily, the words hard to fit together.
His hands stilled. His voice was low this time. "Make me believe it."
"I can't," she said. She had to focus, to find the answer that would make everything right again. "You know I can't."
"Go back to sleep, Kaye," he said softly, no longer touching her, his hands fisted on his knees.
She levered herself up to her elbows, blearily realizing that she had to stop him before he got up from the bed.
"Let me show you," she said, leaning forward to press her mouth to his. His lips parted with no resistance at all, letting her kiss him as though he could taste the truth on her tongue.
After a moment, he pulled back from her gently. "That wasn't what I meant," he said with a small rueful smile.
She flopped back, cheeks reddening, fully awake now and appalled at herself.
Roiben slid off the boxspring and onto the floor. He was looking away from her, at the sliver of light showing under the dirty plastic windowshade.
Rolling onto her side, she looked down at what she could see of his face. Her fingers chipped nervously at a drop of wax on the comforter. "I answered the riddle. I thought she would let me go and I answered it anyway."
He looked up at her abruptly, amazed. "You did at that. Why?"
Kaye wanted to explain it as best as she could. He was listening to her, at least for the moment. She made sure to keep her voice completely level, completely sincere. "Because it wasn't supposed to go like it did. I never even thought of using you like that… you were never supposed to—"
"Be glad I did," he said, but he said it gently. He reached up and ran three fingers down the side of her jaw. "It's strange to see you this way."
She shivered. "What way?"
"Green," he said, his eyes like mist, like smoke, like all insubstantial things.
She lost her nerve, looking into those eyes. He was too beautiful. He was a spell she was going to break by sheer accident.
His voice was very soft when he spoke again. "I have had a surfeit of killing, Kaye."
And whether that was meant as a prayer for the past or a plea for the future, she could not say.
This time, when he lay down on the mattress and drew the comforter over his shoulders, she watched the cobwebs swing with each gust of air that crept through gaps in the old windows. Words echoed on the edges of her thoughts, phrases she had heard but not heard. She'd seen the scars that ran up and down his chest, dozens of marks, pale white stripes of skin edged in pink.
She imagined the Unseelie Court as she had seen it the night she'd snuck in with Corny, except that now they were all looking at their new toy, a Seelie knight with silver hair and such pretty eyes.
"Roiben?" she whispered into the quiet of the room. "Are you still awake?"
But if he was, he didn't answer her.
The next time she woke, it was because someone was pounding on the door.
"Kaye, time for you to get up." Her mother's voice sounded strained.
Kaye groaned. She unfolded herself stiffly from her uncomfortable position on the little bed, feeling the impression of every metal coil along her back.
