Page 65 of When Sorrows Come

“I apologize if my duplicate has in some way interfered with the plan I was given for the room and will do my utmost to see whatever is wrong will be made right before the ceremony,” she said as she pushed the doors open, revealing an open-air courtyard that couldn’t possibly exist within the confines of the knowe. It didn’t make any sense, which meant it was part of the structure as it existed in the Summerlands.

Nessa stepped through. Silent in the face of what I was seeing, I followed her.

We were standing in what seemed to be a natural bowl eroded into the peak of a mountain. Even the air felt different, thinner and cleaner and so crisp it hurt the back of my throat, like it was coming from much higher up. The hillside around us was covered in trees, bushy-branched evergreens reaching for the lilac sky, where four suns, each smaller than the one at home, rotated through a long, slow dance.

I’ve never been sure how the sky functions in the Summerlands. The number of moons and suns seems to be almost random, shifting from moment to moment regardless of whether there were that many the last time someone looked. The sky over Mom’s tower usually has at least three moons, but I’ve seen the number go as low as two and as high as seventeen. The constellations are equally changeable, varying night upon night—and the cycle of nights and days doesn’t really care about the passage of time, preferring to set itself to the internal clock of the local regent. For there to be that many suns overhead, High King Aethlin had to be pretty upset.

The trees were veiled in sparkling silver and diamond white, likethe perfect fairytale snowfall had dusted them lightly before moving on, not accumulating on the ground, which was all dark loam and mossy green, forming a perfect, remarkably curated pathway deeper into the bowl. Nessa kept walking, and we followed, gaping like schoolchildren on their first trip to the museum.

The path’s natural end was obvious, coming as it did to a small dais made of polished maple—of course—and flanked by two long staves that looked for all the world like maypoles, garlanded in ropes of roses and peonies. There was less pink than I’d been worried about after seeing May’s ideas about appropriate wedding flowers. That was nice. So was the outdoor setting, which felt about as close as it was possible for me to get to being married in Muir Woods.

Multiple rows of chairs had been set up around the dais, filling the base of the depression with space for our friends and families. The boundaries of the path, the space in front of the dais where I assumed we were meant to stand, and even the rows themselves, were marked with tiny toadstools that glowed a deep shade of lavender when Nessa approached them, reacting to her presence like the motion-detector lights in a supermarket.

I glanced at Tybalt. He was beaming, eyes flicking from one aspect of the natural amphitheater to the next, looking more settled with every passing moment.

“Normally, we would have trapped and released pixies to provide lighting, since the suns will likely be down come time for the marriage proper,” said Nessa. “However, your fiancé was very firm that you would not appreciate what he referred to as ‘the exploitation of our smallest kin,’ and that if we wanted them, we would have to invite them as guests. Some of the kitchen staff will be going to the locations frequented by the local flocks in the morning, to buy them donuts and offer them an opportunity to attend. So I’m afraid I can’t guarantee how well-lit the space will be.”

It took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me. I blinked. “Oh, um, yeah, he’s right, I definitely prefer the option that doesn’t make all the local pixies hate us. I have a pretty good relationship with the pixies in the Mists, and I don’t know how often they migrate.”

Nessa nodded. “Even so, we’ll have witch-lights on reserve in case they prove necessary. Does this meet with your expectations?”

“It’sperfect,” said Tybalt. “When I requested an outdoor area or courtyard, I didn’t expect you to have access to a proper cirque.”

“Maples has been shaped by glacial progress both in the Summerlands and in the mortal world,” said Nessa. “The knowe was built to incorporate and accommodate the local mountains. If you kept walking west, you would come to the croquet fields and the children’s wing.”

Sometimes trying to figure out how knowes reconcile the two aspects of their existence gives me a genuine headache. Maybe that’s why we get along so well. They’re changelings, too, in their own way.

“What time is it?” I asked abruptly. “We left the Mists at like, ten o’clock at night, and I know it’s three hours later here. But what time is itnow?”

“The sun just rose in the mortal world,” said Nessa. “Today is your wedding day, Sir Daye, and I am honored to be the first to say such to you.”

Ah. Swell.

Tybalt looked at me and smiled, and I managed, barely, to dredge up the same expression in response.

Well, damn.

sixteen

Stacy and Kerry watchedwithout sympathy as I paced back and forth in the enclosed space of the changing room. I was gesturing wildly as I paced, whacking my hands against racks of dresses I’d never seen before and was absolutely sure I didn’t own. Where Stacy had gotten the budget for this many changes of clothing, I didn’t want to know. Someone’s college fund had probably been raided to pay for components.

She was still wearing her little bridal veil headband, and if it wouldn’t have made Tybalt kill me, I might have suggested we trade places. Just until my heart stopped beating so damn hard.

“—evencamefrom,” I said. “One second I was going ‘yay, finally going to have this crossed off the list,’ and the next second, it was like the whole world was pressing down on top of me.”

“You want to take this one, or shall I?” asked Kerry.

“You go find the group Chelsea just brought in and see if it included Julie,” said Stacy. “We’re going to need to get the band back together for this.”

“What?” I demanded, snapping out of the conversation I’d been admittedly mostly having with myself. Stacy and Kerry had been sitting, nodding, and interjecting the occasional understanding noise since I’d arrived. “Julie’s not coming to my wedding. Julie hates me.”

They exchanged a look. “Well, I hope someone told Julie that, because last time I checked with May, Tybalt had put her on theguest list, and she had RSVP’d ‘yes,’ ” said Kerry carefully. “Maybe she hates you a little less than you think she does.”

“That’s ridiculous; he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Or maybe he just assumed that if you couldn’t find a reason to bleed on your wedding dress, you’d invent one, and wanted to give you a decent starting point.” Stacy rose, crossing to smooth the wrinkles out of my collar and tuck my hair back behind my ears. “That man really loves you, October.”

“I know.”

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