Holly lingered in the morning when Artemis saw her off. She wasn't generally the type to draw out goodbyes. Especially not since their goodbyes were so short-lived these days. Artemis knew that she had something to say. Something she'd put off saying, perhaps, for a longer time than he'd noticed. He considered prompting her, but decided doing so could lead to defensive snapping on her part.

"Artemis," she started, and Artemis had the good sense to be wary of what she'd say next. "I didn't want to mention last night since we were having such a good time. But, I got a notice. In the mail."

"A notice?" Artemis felt compelled to ask after too long a pause.

"A court summons. The fairy council has finally found something, I guess."

"It took them rather longer than I'd have expected," Artemis said briskly, "to pull together a plausible legal case against our union."

"Or a way to break the bond."

"Yes," he agreed. "Or that." Holly was looking at him with pursed lips. He was trying not to let it show, how the news had hit him like a physical blow. But some aspect of his expression—which he'd thought he had kept immaculately impartial—must have betrayed him. Artemis had always known that he'd have to come back down to reality soon enough, but it still hurt to be pulled down so abruptly. Hardly abrupt, he thought, annoyed with himself. This had been coming from the beginning. It was part of the plan. The plan to sever the bond between himself and Holly. The plan to restore Holly's life and freedom to her. To let her have a real love and a real marriage.

"When is it?" Artemis asked, and Holly frowned deeper.

"In a week. I'll send you the details."

"Thank you."

"Sure," Holly shrugged. She lifted off the ground and Artemis expected her to fade into the air with nothing but a slight shimmer to show where she'd gone. Instead, she maneuvered herself, as if in a last-minute change of heart, close to Artemis. Too close. They were practically nose to nose and Artemis could feel the vibrations of her wings beating the air. "Do you think they've got something? Really, actually, found something to get rid of our bond?"

"I don't have enough information to formulate an accurate hypothesis. But, they might have."

"You think it's possible?"

"To break the bond?"

"Yes."

"I do. I must admit I thought Foaly or No. 1 would find an answer sooner than the council." Artemis considered how strange it was that neither of their friends had reported any information back to them on the matter. He'd done some digging himself, but he didn't have the resources to find much in way of an answer. Nor, he supposed, did anyone else. But the council might have found something, nonetheless. A way to tear Holly from him. "We'll find out in a week." He dreaded the meeting, but he didn't let it show. Holly huffed, then vanished. He wondered if there was anything he could have said to make her stay, even just a moment longer.

Artemis had never been more reluctant to visit Haven in his life. They were set to meet with the head of the council in five hours and forty-three minutes. Artemis wasted four of those minutes with the hatch to his transport shuttle open. He wasn't claustrophobic, but today the thought of closing himself into the little pod seemed daunting. It would carry him a step closer to the end of this chapter in his and Holly's relationship. But he couldn't allow himself to stall any longer, so he reached to slam shut the door, allowing it to do its work and take him to Haven.

It wouldn't be so bad, returning to how things had been before the marriage was apparent to them. He'd still have a relationship with Holly. A really good one, in fact. That was the most important thing to remember: no matter what the council did, no matter if their bond was broken or their marriage deemed illegitimate, nothing but death could keep him and Holly apart. And even death had failed twice.

But, even armed with that knowledge, Artemis knew it wasn't so simple. The council could, technically, keep him and Holly apart. Social conventions and obligations and them each having their own lives had done so before, and it would happen again. If he was to be completely honest, the real reason he was able to walk to the cheery door set in their yellow house with such calm was because he kept seeing Holly, in his mind's eye, fingers idly caressing a statue of a small fairy child, speaking softly and self consciously of a love she one day wished to have. He'd promised himself then that he'd do all he could to find a way out of their marriage. He'd fallen down on the upkeep of that particular promise, however. He'd let it sit too long untouched, and he couldn't do so any longer.

"Holly?" Artemis called into the house. It was too quiet and too dark for Holly's usual ways and, for a moment, Artemis thought she might have slept at the office. The thought made him oddly sad and melancholy to think—Holly, sleeping on a cot in her office instead of in the house he'd designed for her. For them. But Artemis found Holly, sound asleep in their bedroom, curled among a nest of blankets, pillows, and books. Curious, Artemis swiped a tome off the bed and paged through it. It was on ancient magics. And another was about the Old Ways. More books on customs, traditions, and even laws littered the mattress. Holly, obviously, had been doing some research of her own. How often, Artemis wondered, did she stay up late trying to free them of their bonds while he'd slept peacefully?

He cleared all the books away and tugged a blanket to cover her more fully. If she was still asleep, she clearly still needed the rest. Next, he found a charcoal dress and a blazer in her closet and set them out. He was sure he'd never seen Holly wear either piece and was sure, also, that she would be loath to wear them today. But it was a fitting outfit for a court summons. He pulled out stockings for her, too, and was almost convinced she'd sooner strangle him with them than wear them. But she had them, didn't she? She must have recognized that she'd have need of them, eventually. Artemis already knew exactly what he was going to wear, but didn't bother changing just yet. There was still a good number of hours in which suits could get ruined before the set meeting time. So he left his suit hung on the door next to Holly's clothes and carefully departed the room.

It didn't occur to him until he was halfway down the stairs how intimate an act that might be considered. Certainly, a few months ago, he would never have considered invading Holly's personal spaces in such a way as rummaging through her clothes. But it had seemed only natural to do so this morning. He'd have to re-establish boundaries between them, he realized with a frown. They really had abolished a plethora of them in their time as a married couple.

"What in the ever-loving—Artemis, are you cooking?" Holly asked, not even an hour later, groggily descending the stairs and finding her way to the kitchen.

"I've gotten passably acceptable at it," Artemis told her, sliding a perfectly intact omelet onto a plate and offering it to her. "Some aspects of it, in any case."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day that you cooked me breakfast," she marveled, sitting down and digging in with no pretense. She was ravenous in the mornings, Artemis had learned. When she'd finished, she found his eyes and grinned. "But it shouldn't be a surprise, you made me a whole picnic first. You're turning into a well-rounded member of society."

"How dare you suggest I'm a member of society."

"Right, my bad. You're above society, of course. Laws and conventions can't bind you."

"Nothing can," Artemis knew he was smiling, could feel the softness of it on his face. It had once been so foreign and strange, but he'd become used to it. And he liked the way Holly always lit up when it visited. She laughed then.

"Nothing except for me," she said with a quirked smirk. If only she knew how right she was.

"Not for much longer," Artemis said, smile turning wry and stale. Holly cut her eyes away and shrugged.

"True enough." Silence settled over them for long minutes. Then Holly laughed, the sort of laugh that you don't mean to let escape. But escape it did. Artemis raised an inquiring eyebrow at her. "I saw you picked us out matching outfits for this evening," she explained.

"We should present a united force."

"Then you can wear the stockings."

"They'd clash with my belt."

"You're the worst." She was smiling again, a true, purposeful smile meant to be shared.

"You're the one who married me."

"Doesn't count. I didn't know."

"That you were marrying me or that I am the worst?"

"Either."

"Then," Artemis said, standing up and offering her his hand. She took it skeptically and he pulled her to her feet. "Are you ready to get divorced?"

"You know it, Mudboy."