Page 7 of When Sorrows Come

Nobody reasonable has the time for that. The Luidaeg continued: “This is a historic event, whether you want it to be or not. Cait Sidhe don’t intermarry with the descendants of the rest of Faerie, or if they do, they choose the charmaids and the courtiers, never the higher nobility or the ones who would ever have the ear of a reigning monarch or get themselves labeled heroes of the realm. This marriage matters. The fact that you would happily throw something so pivotal away in favor of being able to wear blue jeans to the altar isn’t just ridiculous, it’s selfish. So yeah, maybe I took advantage of the fact that Quentin understands the situation better than you do, but can you honestly blame me? I need you at that ceremony. I need that ceremony tohappen.”

I blinked. “Why do you, in specific, need it? I don’t follow.”

“Oh, for my father’s—no, that’s it. For my father’s sake, and the sake of my own descendants, who still shift from feet to fins as it suits them. You may be just a knight,SirDaye, but you’re a hero, a former Countess, the dearest advisor to the future High King of the Westlands, the daughter of the last of the Firstborn, and the woman who brought Oberon back to us, even if most people don’t know it yet. For you to marry one of the shifting kind and take him to your bed and bower is to change the future of Faerie. If I have to use your squire’s true face as the lever to get you to start takingresponsibility for your life and what it means to the rest of us, I will. I won’t feel bad about it for even a second, either, so you can swallow whatever nasty thing you were about to call me. You’re going to wear a pretty dress, you’re going to say whatever that Fetch of yours coaches you into saying, and you’re going to have a proper state wedding if it kills you.”

I blinked. “Um. Wow. That was a lot.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

“Are you done?”

The Luidaeg paused. “You know, I don’t know. I didn’t expect you to let me get through that whole thing.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes, actually. I do.”

I sighed. “Then it was worth it. Okay, look, I’m going to get married, I’m letting May and Stacy handle the details in part because I don’t want to cock it up, which you know I’d do if I touchedanything—”

Dean was snickering behind his hand, presumably because I’d said “cock.” Sometimes surrounding myself with teenagers feels like a questionable life choice. I glared at him.

“—and I’ll go to Toronto when they tell me it’s time to go to Toronto. Is there a reason this had to happennow?”

To my surprise, the Luidaeg laughed. “Guess they figured this was how they were going to get you to show up. Well, if it works for them, it works for me. Tell May I’ll be bringing two guests with me, even if her invitation only says plus one. Poppy’s my date for the evening, and I’m not telling Dad he can’t attend.”

The phone clicked as the line went dead. I slowly lowered it, setting it back on the table before turning my attention to Quentin and Dean.

“All right,” I said pleasantly. “Since the Luidaeg has decided to be vague, one ofyoucan tell me why you’re doing this now, without discussing it with me, and why things suddenly seem to be moving on a timetable.”

The boys exchanged a nervous glance, taking hands once again, as if to ward off some terrible consequence of answering my question. Quentin then looked at the floor, leaving Dean to face me alone.

“Coward,” I said fondly. “Dean?”

“I, um. I really don’t think this is my place, and I’d like to be excused from this conversation, please.”

“Nope,” I said, with malevolent good cheer. “You went with him to the Luidaeg’s, so you’re just as responsible for his bad choices as he is.”

Quentin looked up, taking a deep breath. “I had to do this right now if I wanted to come to the wedding, because we’re leaving for Toronto tomorrow morning,” he said, in a rush.

I blinked at him. “Oh,” I said. “Is that all?”

three

Moving automatically, my wholebodynumb, I rose from the table and started for the door. My stomach grumbled, unconcerned by silly things like my apparently impending marriage. I paused at the counter to tuck two more rose lemonade scones into a napkin, carrying them with me out into the hall.

The scuffle of feet warned me I was being followed. I didn’t stop or look around until I reached the stairs and had the banister firm and solid under my hand. Unlike everything else around me—faces, plans for my own future—it wasn’t shifting, but seemed content to remain good, honest wood, giving me something to lean on.

“Yes?” I finally asked.

Quentin shifted his unfamiliar weight from foot to foot, more at ease with his own transformed body than I’ve ever been with any of mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, in a small voice.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Apparently, my entire family has been conspiring to abduct me to Canada because I can’t be trusted to know the date of my own damn wedding. So I’m feeling a little left out and a little disrespected and a lot like I need to go lie down in my bed or stand in a hot shower until I stop wanting to stab you all.”

“We don’t heal the way you do,” said Dean.

“Hence the restraint,” I said, through gritted teeth.

“You said you didn’t want to have anything to do with putting the wedding together,” objected Quentin. “You said it, and you always tell us family doesn’t lie to family, so that means you must have meant it!”

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