"GRASSHOPPER IS HERE," Alfred rumbled from behind me, at the exact moment that Molly's presence blinked into my awareness. I actually couldn't tell it was her; the intellectus only told me that someone had appeared just offshore. They hovered an inch or so above the water while the waves lapped at the soles of their shoes. But the island knew my former apprentice—and she knew the island, knew better than to step onto its shores without an invitation.

I thought about not extending that invitation. I wasn't in the mood for company, which was why I'd come to spend the night on Demonreach in the first place. A petulant, childish part of me wanted to ignore Molly's intrusion until she went away, leaving me to my solitary brooding.

But only for a moment. Then I remembered that this was Molly, for God's sake, and that she was here because she cared about me, and that she didn't deserve to bear the brunt of my dark mood.

"Send her up, please, Alfred," I said. Demonreach sent me a silent acknowledgment. An instant later, the intellectus showed me a path rising out of the shallow water, a bridge of packed sand and pebbles that formed under Molly's feet and led onto the beach in obvious welcome.

Seated on a cleared, grassy slope just south of the cabin, at the top of the hill, I could see over the treetops on the hillside below. Beyond them, the expanse of Lake Michigan stretched across the horizon. I gazed out over the lake and idly tracked Molly's progress in my mind. I could sense her movement across the shoreline; I could feel the pressure of her strong, confident steps climbing the steep hillside. I knew when she paused to place one hand admiringly on the trunk of the lone birch tree that stood like a marble pillar beside the trail. And I felt her hesitate, just for a second, when she finally cleared the trees and saw me sitting there.

I glanced over at my former-apprentice-turned-faerie-queen. She'd forgone her usual business-casual look in favor of gray hiking boots, cutoff denim shorts, and a white tank top under a lightweight, blue plaid button-down. Her hair fell to her shoulders in loose, golden waves, gleaming with ice-blue highlights in the soft light of sunset. She looked gorgeous, as always—yet she also bore that unnatural sharpness in her features, that subtle hint that she was no longer quite human. I still hadn't grown accustomed to seeing that.

Hints of the Winter Court aside, the sight of her sent a wave of warmth through me. With everything that weighed on my mind that night, the distraction of her presence was…a relief.

"Hi, Harry," she said quietly.

I raised my bottle towards her in a wordless salute. There was another hesitation as she swept her gaze around the clearing. Then she strode forward, grabbed a bottle of Mac's ale out of my cooler, and plopped down on the grass next to me.

"So," she said. "You're really going through with this, huh?"

I glanced at the empty bottles scattered around. There actually weren't that many—I'd been there most of the day, and I'd paced myself. But to Molly, who was just showing up now, it probably looked pretty bad. "What gave it away?" I asked wryly. "Besides the fact that I don't have a choice, I mean."

She bumped my shoulder with hers. "How you holding up?"

"Oh, you know…" I grimaced. "Impotent rage, reluctant resignation, things like that. No big deal."

"Heh." Molly twisted the cap off her beer with ease, and we clinked our bottles together. "To marriage."

I snorted and took a long pull from the bottle.

"I kinda thought you'd be out with the guys," she said eventually. "Playing poker at a strip club, or hunting elk with muskets, or whatever guys do for bachelor parties."

I eyed her sideways. "Is that really what you think guys do when they get together?"

"Who knows?" she said blithely. "Guys are weird. Although my weirdness scale might be a little off, lately."

That sounded about right. I mean, poker at a strip club isn't that weird, I guess… but hunting elk with muskets sounded like just the sort of oddly-specific human activity that the Sidhe would theme a party around. Weirdos.

"The party was last weekend, actually. I hung out with Butters and the Alphas at Mac's for a while. No poker, or stripping, or any combination of the two, were involved." I took another sip of Mac's ale. "Mostly because we knew your dad was gonna stop by."

Molly laughed softly, and I smiled in response, feeling my mood shift a little for the better. "A Carpenter-friendly party?" She grinned. "Sounds wild. I'm sorry I missed all the fun."

"Oh, it was a rager," I said. "I almost didn't make it back in time to read Maggie her bedtime story."

"I'll bet." She shot me a look, then waved her hand at my collection of empty bottles. "So, this is… what? Making up for the hangover that never was?"

"More like a pity party," I admitted, gazing out over the lake. "Tomorrow I'm making myself beholden to yet another person, yet another set of obligations. And I have no idea what sort of vows will be involved, but I'm sure they'll be as binding and unbreakable as anything else Mab's asked of me. And of course, I don't get a choice. I mean, I technically do, but... not really.

"So tonight…I took the opportunity to do something that I wanted to do. Just wanted to sit and think for a while, you know?" I shrugged. "Or I guess, not think," I added, eyeing my drink.

"I hear you." Molly laid her hand over mine, gave it a gentle squeeze, then shifted as if to get up. "I shouldn't have intruded. I'll—"

"No, stay," I blurted out, turning my hand over to catch her fingers. "I'm glad you came. I've missed you."

She froze for an instant as if I'd surprised her. Then she relaxed, settling back down and squeezing my hand again.

We sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the clouds and the lake shift through a blazing spectrum of colors as they reflected the setting sun. Molly's hand was small and warm in my grasp, a comforting reminder that I wasn't alone. Her fingers wriggled a little, sliding up to interlace with mine, and I didn't stop her. Neither of us acknowledged this new intimacy, but it sat between us, literally and figuratively, and it felt… right. Natural, like her hand was made to fit there.

"I know it's stupid to be so upset," I said after a while. "I mean, boo-fucking-hoo, right? Poor Dresden, getting married off to a supernaturally sexy bombshell with power and influence and more money than he's ever seen in his life. How will he ever cope with such a cruel fate?" I paused for another swig of ale. "People have literally killed to be in my position. Arranged marriages have been happening all through history. This must be one of the top-ten deals of all time, right? What the hell do I have to complain about?"

Molly was silent for a moment. "No one envies your lack of choice, Harry," she murmured finally. "It's okay to be angry about it. Top-ten or not, this is unfair as hell, and you've earned the right to indulge in a pity party if you want."

"That's the worst part," I replied. "It's perfectly fair, and I've earned this whole situation. I've already made the choice that brought me here, and I would do it again. But it still sucks. This marriage thing isn't exactly what I expected from tying myself to Winter." I let out a long breath, and tried to sound a little more cheerful. "But hey—I guess it's time I settled down, right? I can't just go on being a bachelor forever."

Molly made a soft sound, almost a laugh, and didn't reply. I glanced sideways at her, and suddenly felt terrible. I bumped her shoulder as she had done to me. "I'm sorry, Molly."

"Hey, you don't have to worry about me," she said, with forced brightness. "I'm not the one getting married tomorrow."

"That's… kind of what I meant," I said quietly. Molly went very still beside me.

"Harry…" There was a world of heartache in the way she spoke my name, a depth of feeling that hit me like a blow. That emotional gut-punch made my breath catch in my throat.

"I'm so sorry," I said again, when I found my voice. "You've already paid a steep price for my actions, and it just keeps getting worse. I knew that I would always be dealing with the consequences of my choice…but I never, never wanted you to keep getting hurt, too."

Molly gripped my hand hard and didn't reply, taking a hurried gulp of ale. She stared straight ahead at the darkening horizon for a long time.

Silence wrapped the hilltop, save for the soft breeze rustling the trees.

"I'm calling in my favor," Molly said suddenly. There was an odd timbre to her voice, something authoritative and powerful that made my Winter mantle stir in response.

I smiled ruefully. "I don't think that will get me out of this, Molls." Mab had explicitly told Molly to make this union with the White Court happen. The Winter Lady wouldn't be able collect on my debt with anything that would countermand Mab's wishes—like, say, asking me to refuse the wedding.

She shook her head. "I know. I wish it were that easy. I'd happily spend a few months in Mab's popsicle garden if it meant stopping this. But I know my limitations, and I know yours. I want something else."

"Okay, well… within those limits, what may I do for you, my Lady?"

Molly glanced down at our joined hands, and that almost unnatural stillness came over her again. I realized that my thumb was rubbing slow circles across the back of her hand. I didn't remember starting it. Now it was my turn to awkwardly gulp down my drink, hoping for a distraction.

"I want a kiss," Molly said. "A real one."

I choked on some beer that went down the wrong pipe, and spent a good fifteen or twenty seconds coughing and sputtering. Molly waited patiently, giving me a few helpful slaps on the back.

"Hell's bells," I muttered roughly, when I finally recovered. I cleared my throat a few times, then glanced sidelong at her. "Uh, Molls—"

"You heard me," she said. Her voice was serene and self-assured, but there was a faint flush to her cheeks, barely visible in the twilight.

I stared at her, and a tiny, delighted shiver coursed down my spine. The evening suddenly seemed to hum with unspoken potential, charged with possibilities that hadn't existed moments ago. I hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. In fact, the last time I'd felt that sort of new, hopeful thrill was…

On Thomas' boat, about an hour before my suicide attempt.

A familiar ache surfaced in my chest, and it was a pain that had nothing to do with me getting shot.

One year hadn't been long enough to erase that pain. A hundred years wouldn't do it, either. But the year had given me some distance, and my time with River Shoulders last winter had given me the wisdom to acknowledge that pain, accept it, and release it. So I did, closing my eyes with a slow exhalation. The tightness eased in my chest, and my head cleared a little.

Then I opened my eyes again and looked at Molly, still feeling that electricity in the air. I remembered the brush of her lips, full and soft against my own, when we'd sealed this bargain a year ago. I suddenly longed, more than anything, to give her what she wanted. And it wasn't coming from my mantle's lust, or even the weird internal pressure of Winter Law that drove me to fulfill my obligation to her. I just…

Stars and stones… I wanted Molly.

When had that happened?

I had to tear my gaze away from her deep, luminous eyes before I did something reckless. I stared out over the vast expanse of the lake, instead, with my heart suddenly racing and my mind keeping the pace.

The idea of kissing her should have been unthinkable. For a long time, it had been. We were close, with a level of trust, respect and mutual understanding that I didn't share with anyone else, but not that close. She was younger than me, and my best friend's daughter, and my apprentice, and all those things formed lines between us that I'd never wanted to cross.

Which isn't to say I was never tempted. I mean, Molly was amazing, and gorgeous, and she'd been crushing on me since the beginning. It would have been easy to take advantage of that… but that wasn't the kind of man I'd wanted to be. And later on, the Winter Knight's mantle had always noticed her, of course— but that was just its thing, and I hadn't wanted to be that kind of man, either. I had gotten used to ignoring the mantle's urges. I guess I had also ignored the way my own perception of Molly had changed.

To be fair, I'd had some other priorities recently. I hadn't had a lot of time or inclination to muse about things like this, or to try untangling the differences between what Winter wanted and what I wanted. But in the craziness of the last few years, something had changed. Somewhere, between helping arrange my death, and living on the streets, and becoming a literal faerie princess, and commanding her own freaking fae army, Molly had changed. She was a grown woman, and an immortal now, who also happened to outclass me by orders of magnitude in the magic department. Hell, with all the time she'd spent in the Nevernever, where the flow of time was never consistent, she might even be older than me now, too.

I looked back at her for a moment that is crystal clear in my memory. It was the first time I saw her, really saw her, as the woman she had become: powerful in her own right, matured under the weight of her responsibilities. Someone whose love for me had never waned, despite everything I had done, every terrible thing I had asked of her. Someone with agency to make her own choices.

For the first time, I saw Molly as someone I didn't need to protect from myself.

And that…. opened the door to a whole spectrum of new possibilities.

Or at least it would have, if I weren't entering into an arranged marriage with someone else in less than twenty-four hours.

Hell's bells.

I wanted to voice all of that. She deserved to hear it. But what came out of my mouth, driven by a deep Winter need to satisfy a bargain, was all business. "One kiss, and our bargain is fulfilled?"

"Yes," she murmured. "One kiss. But you have to kiss me like you mean it."

"I…" I cleared my throat again. My mouth had gone very dry. "I can do that."

She smiled a little. "I know."

We stared at each other for another long moment that suddenly felt awkward; I wasn't really sure what to do next. She looked away first, carefully setting her bottle down in a little depression in the grass. I followed her example, feeling a little flutter in my stomach. Jeez, when had I turned back into a nervous teenager?

Molly shifted, turning to face me and folding her long legs beneath her. "Wow," she said. "This… seems a little surreal."

"Tell me about it," I replied quietly.

"Well," she said, closing her eyes. "We're about to have our first and last kiss. I'm damn well not going to rush it. Hang on, I want to make sure I remember this."

She drew a few deep, meditative breaths, and I saw her eyelids flicker a little in concentration. That might have been a good time for me to come to my senses and reconsider, but I'd already agreed to this. I couldn't back out, even if I wanted to.

Which I didn't.

Molly's eyes opened, wide and shining, a deep, deep blue in the fading twilight. I brushed back a few strands of hair from her face. She shivered, her gaze never leaving mine.

"Ready?" I murmured.

Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of something not exactly human, as she leaned forward a little. "Let our bargain now be met," she breathed. I felt Winter respond to the power in those words. There was a sudden inexorable pressure, like a giant hand squeezing around my soul, and somehow I knew that that metaphysical urgency would continue to build until I had kept my word.

I slid my hand into her hair, drawing her nearer. Close, so close. I could have drowned in her eyes. We balanced there for an instant, on the brink of a cliff that I'd never let myself approach.

"Make it count," she whispered, barely audibly.

No pressure, Harry, I told myself. I could hardly hear my own thoughts over the slamming of my heart against my chest.

And then I forgot to be nervous, because Molly's sweet, soft lips met mine, and I forgot everything.

There's a reason why the Sidhe use a kiss to seal their agreements, why weddings aren't official until you may kiss the bride. A kiss, no matter how brief or perfunctory, has power in its intimacy. It's an exchange—whether emotional, or metaphysical, or purely transactional, you surrender some part of yourself, something unique; and you receive something in turn. Even a strictly platonic kiss has the power to bind two people in a covenant, or to hold two of the fae to their word.

This kiss was powerful, too, but even more so. Everything between Molly and I, our struggles and celebrations, all our shared joys and sorrows, were wrapped up in it. Every moment we'd ever shared weighed on this kiss. It was a symbol of our entire history together, shot through with a bittersweet undercurrent of what might have been, and what could never be. I've never had Molly's psychic sensitivity to emotional events, but even I could feel the sheer power of this one. The bright and shining intensity of it was unmistakable, like the light of a brilliant sunrise washing over me.

And that was before the physical sensations hit me.

Molly tasted sweetly warm like cinnamon sugar; and refreshingly cool like a new snowfall; and a little bit like Mac's ale—and she was just as intoxicating. She filled my senses: the faint scent of her shampoo, the growing unsteadiness in her breathing, the silken strands of her hair beneath my hand. Her tongue brushed against mine, hesitantly at first; then she deepened the kiss, making a soft sound against my mouth. I let out a shuddering breath and moved on instinct, pulling her closer. She came eagerly, straddling my lap and pressing her body against mine. We fit together as if we belonged that way. Somewhere, a distant part of me wondered why it had taken us this long to get here.

Heh. I think we all know who was to blame for that.

The world narrowed around me until it was only her. And the best part, the best part, was that the Winter Knight's mantle didn't seem to be interested. I don't know why; maybe the stipulation that I had to kiss her like I mean it kept Winter from interfering. Whatever the reason, it meant I could focus all my attention on this experience without the distraction of Winter's fierce hunger. So I did.

Hell's freaking bells.

It was incredible. Almost… dare I say it?

Magical.

We made it last as long as we could, but even world-shatteringly good kisses like this one have to end sometime. Slowly, reluctantly, Molly withdrew just enough to rest her forehead against mine. I felt the insistent pressure of Winter Law lift away; I had met my end of the bargain, and my debt to her had been fulfilled.

We sat there for a while, wordless. I was still trying to absorb what had just happened, and come to terms with the fact that it was over. Once again, I didn't really know what to do next—but my body had some creative ideas that it was beginning to be insistent about. And then the Winter mantle finally awoke, with a sudden insistence that my next move should be to press Molly down onto the grass and rip away all the clothing between her skin and mine.

With a little effort, I shoved Winter's influence back into its corner of my head and opened my eyes. I hadn't thought it was possible, but Molly's eyes looked even larger and more luminous than before. They sparkled with a complicated tangle of emotions that I was pretty sure reflected my own.

"That," she breathed, "was…. everything I hoped it would be."

I gave her a lopsided smile, stroking my thumb over her cheekbone. "Worth the wait?"

She closed her eyes briefly, lips curving in an answering smile. "If you want to redeem yourself for making me wait, you owe me a lot more than just a kiss."

The Winter mantle—and every fiber of my own mortal being—thought that was an excellent idea. Desire thrummed through me as if she'd plucked my soul like a guitar string. Almost at once, though, before I could reply, she pressed a fingertip to my lips and shook her head.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I was just kidding, and that was a bad choice of words. You owe me nothing, Harry, and I am not trying to make another deal with you."

"Damn," I said, only half kidding, when she withdrew her hand. "I, uh...wouldn't object to that."

"Hah. That's how we get ya, you know. We make it seem great at first, and next thing you know, you owe me your ability to see the color blue, or something."

I almost laughed—but there was something deeply unsettling about hearing Molly use that "we" to include herself as one of the Sidhe. It sobered me up a little, and left another long, silent pause between us.

"Molls," I murmured finally. "I don't really know what to think about this. But for what it's worth…I wish things could have been different. For us, I mean."

Molly bit her lower lip and didn't answer for a moment.

"I'm just grateful for what we got," she said eventually. "Trust me, the memory of that kiss will tide me over for a long time. At least until the next one," she added, with a sudden grin.

"Yeah?" I grinned back, and I think I was running on autopilot at that point, still high on endorphins from what was, hands-down, the best kiss of my life. My hand moved, almost on its own, sliding down the curve of her hip to the lean muscles of her thigh. Her skin was exquisitely smooth, and I had to stop myself from exploring further. "Well—maybe we should be done waiting."

Molly's breath caught, and she moved along with the motion of my hand, shifting her hips against me. "Harry…?"

I had never expected that this moment, this line I was about to cross, could ever have been decided with a what-the-hell attitude. But here we were. I had a wonderful, beautiful woman on my lap, I was a little buzzed, and I was getting married off to a vampire the next day, for God's sake. The whole reason I'd come to the island tonight was to enjoy some autonomy, to do what I wanted to do for a change. And Molly and I had just made out—that line had been all but crossed already. So…

What the hell.

My grip on her thigh tightened, urging her even closer. I met her eyes again and murmured, "I'm not married yet."

She sort of shivered, a slow, sensual undulation that was not quite a human reaction, but incredibly sexy nonetheless. "Oh my God," she breathed. "You have no idea how much I want to, Harry. But I literally can't."

I blinked. "Uh. What?"

"I know, right? Talk about unfair." Molly gave me a rueful smile. "I'm actually kind of surprised that my mantle hasn't tried to tear you to shreds yet. But trust me, Harry, if we could…" She trailed off, with a wicked smile that left everything unspoken—but not unimagined. While I was still trying to stop imagining things, Molly reached up to frame my face with both hands. Her expression had turned serious again.

"Harry, I—" she hesitated, just for a second, and I got the sense that she changed what she was about to say. She continued in a whisper, "I won't be the Winter Lady forever. Things will be different for us. Someday."

I couldn't even imagine what the world would be like, what events would have to take place, in order for that to happen. But despite that uncertainty for the future, I could hear the absolute conviction in her voice. She was making a promise, and I knew that she meant to keep it.

Then she winked at me. "I guess you'll just have to wait."

"Ouch," I said, holding one hand to my chest with an exaggerated flinch. "Right in the irony."

She chuckled, and pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead before reluctantly easing off my lap. She settled back onto the grass beside me, much closer than before. I slid an arm around her, she leaned her head on my shoulder, and once again I was struck by how perfectly we fit together.

Molly stayed with me for the rest of the night. We didn't talk any more about the future, or the wedding; we'd said everything there was to say about that. Instead, we reminisced and laughed over memories of old times, and caught each other up on stories from our respective roles in the Winter Court, and traded new magical theories and techniques. Eventually, we lay back on the grass to watch the stars wheeling across the sky, musing quietly together about the universe and quoting Star Wars at each other. It was a perfect summer evening, comfortably warm with just a hint of a breeze, and eventually she fell asleep with her head pillowed on my chest.

I lay there in the dark with Molly dozing in my arms, and for the first time in a long, long time, I felt at peace.

Predictably for a union of the White and Winter Courts, the wedding was a sea of white everything. Also predictably, it was a huge affair, with hundreds of guests, and hundreds of things I needed to do. The day flew by in a rush, and most of it is just a vague white blur in my memory.

But I remember one particular moment with absolute clarity. Lara stood before me, looking stunning, poured into a white gown with her dark hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders. Her hands were clasped in mine, encased in white gloves that went to her elbows. As I was reciting the vows I'd been given, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. One of Lara's sisters had dropped a flower from her bouquet. Standing next to her, Molly bent quickly to pick it up and hand it to her. The younger Raith took it with a smile of thanks.

And then the vampire jerked her hand away from Molly's, grimacing as the skin of her fingertips blistered and blackened.

I stumbled over my next words, then managed to recover without looking like too much of a fool. At least, I think I did; I don't remember what I said. When I finished, another glance toward Molly showed me the Winter Lady staring down at her own hand; then she raised her eyes to mine, and they shone with a brightness and a joy that I hadn't seen in her for a long time.

I stared back at her, and realized I was a fucking idiot.

My lovely, dangerous warlock; my rebellious apprentice; my powerful Winter queen. We had seen into each other's souls, had been inside each other's heads, had been through hell together, and it took this long for me to realize how I felt.

I was in love with Molly.

For an instant, my heart overflowed with an answering joy that reflected her own. Then I remembered where we were, and what I was doing, and why I couldn't do a damn thing about the fact that I loved her.

And then Lara began reciting her vows, and I had to tear my gaze away from the woman I loved so I could pay attention to the woman I was marrying.

God…nothing in my life can ever be simple. Hell's bells.

The rest of the ceremony went by in another blur, while I fought down a rising anger that this was not the way it was supposed to be. The Winter mantle picked up on my emotions and began to stir ominously, like a storm building on the horizon, waiting for release. For once, I didn't try to force it away, finding a hostile sort of satisfaction in letting it roil beneath the surface.

Finally, it was over. Lara brushed her lips against mine, sealing our union with a brief kiss that left her lovely lips swollen and blistered.

"Harry," she admonished with a dangerous smile, as the cheers of the audience erupted around us. Flecks of silver glinted in her dark eyes as her Hunger healed away the burns. "Still? It's been a year; I thought you were going to… take care of that by now."

"I've been a little busy," I said honestly, my voice hoarse. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well," Lara murmured, her smile deepening. "The honeymoon promises to be even more interesting than I anticipated." Giving my hands one last squeeze, she turned to face our guests, and I did the same, standing awkwardly beside my… wife… as the assembled Courts of Sidhe and vampires continued their cheers.

I found Molly in the front row, and we locked eyes as a wave of bittersweet pain swept over me. Hell's bells, why hadn't I tried harder to fight this marriage? If I'd been less idiotic about everything, if I'd been able to see what was right in front of my nose, maybe I could have looked harder for a loophole before it was too late.

Then Molly winked at me, and I remembered her promise.

I managed to summon a smile for her. Whatever the future held, I was only on loan to Lara for a while. For now, I had the memory of our last kiss to carry me forward.

And someday, things would be different.