Once Upon a Time
Chapter One-Hundred-Thirty-Eight
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The Event of the Season
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that is
A Short Tale of Forebodings, Lists of Enemies, Investigations, Silences, Foresight, Old Friends and Friends No Longer, Love for the Moon, A Proposal, and the Embarrassing Advice of Sisters
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King Balor stood up from his desk and stretched, feeling every pop and crack in his old bones. He'd been studying the reports from various agents of the Crown; the Fae were not doing well. The kingdom was not well. The winters came harder every year. The harvests were leaner. The rains were poor in summer, torrential in the autumn.
Bethmoora was failing, and everyone knew why.
The old king didn't let himself dwell on it. What good would it do? He would follow his son's example - in part - and send what aid the Crown could comfortably afford to fix that which was temporarily fixable.
It was all just a stop-gap measure, anyway. The end would come for all his people, and no one could stop it, no matter what Nuada thought. It was better this way.
"Majesty?" Guard Captain Saruit ventured. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?"
Saruit was a good guardswoman, Balor thought. She took care of him. True, she had a bit of a temper sometimes, but she never let it get the best of her. True also, there had been that little thing with Lady Dylan's prying, discourteous sister. What was the wretched woman's name? Well, no matter. Saruit had nearly broken the treaty, but she'd restrained herself. More than he could say for Nuada, with his notoriously violent temper and likely what amounted to oceans of mortal blood dripping from his hands. He'd learned to rein himself in, thanks to his mortal truelove, yet the temper, the viciousness, was there for anyone with eyes. Well, no matter.
Yes, Saruit did him quite proud, and he was most grateful for her.
"No, Saruit, I'm well enough. Merely needed a break from all those reports." He forced a chuckle and moved toward a window, desperate for some fresh sunlight. "And you? How are you faring without your trusted lieutenant at your back? Counting the days until she returns from holiday? I know my hellion ways and gallivanting adventures are a trial to you."
He heard the smile in Saruit's voice when she said, "Yes, Sire. I miss her sorely."
"Well, she'll return soon enough." Balor closed his eyes as pale winter morning sun poured over him. Weak though it was, it was still warm enough. He sighed. Opened his eyes. Through the glass of the window, he spotted a star-blonde figure in a blue dress walking a garden pathway.
Nuala. With her walked Prince Bres. The sight of them filled the old Elf with a mix of pleasure and unease. Nuala looked so happy, arm in arm with Bres, and yet...Balor could not forget how adamantly his son opposed the match. Friends no longer, Nuada had said. Why? And had he had a chance to speak of it to his sister when he'd last come to the capital?
Down below in the castle gardens, Nuala suddenly went stock still. She gazed beyond the palace walls, toward the King's Road. Toward her brother. Was there trouble? Did she sense something amiss with the crown prince?
But she did not call for a servant or a guard. She only moved closer to Bres, and kept walking.
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In the garden, Nuala suddenly froze. Bres, who'd been walking beside her, halted and tried to figure out what had caught her eye. As far as he could see, there was nothing out of the ordinary about.
"Princess? Are you well?"
Nuala shivered, though she wasn't cold. Her gaze, a dull yellow-gray, settled on the northern horizon.
"I...I don't...know. Something...I'm not sure. I just...all at once I had this terrible feeling. Like something awful was waiting to fall on me."
After a moment's hesitation, the Fomorian prince put an arm around his betrothed's shoulder.
"Anything that seeks to harm you must first get past your guards...and past me."
Still chilled, she offered him a wan smile. "I know, Bres."
But it wasn't thoughts of her fate that sent fear skittering down her back like rat claws. She thought of Nuada, out there in the north. Was he safe? Was his mortal beloved safe?
Nuala couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was no.
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Feld Skerry was the last of the villages under Nuada's direct rule. All had been tended, rendered aid. Dylan had little doubt the villages would need help again, but not as much. Tori's homemade weapons' plans had been adapted for each village based on what they had available. Francesca, John, and Mary, masters of being sneaky, had given them tips to avoid getting caught. Those villages in need of food or medicine had received them. It had taken weeks to cover this small chunk of Bethmoora, and so very much had happened in those weeks.
And now it was over. Time to return to the capital, and the dubious comforts of the palace. At least, Dylan thought, in Findias they didn't have to fear raids from bandits. Even Sreng wasn't mad enough to attack the capital city.
They had worries still, of course. She needed to pop back over to the mortal world and check on Lisa Ramirez in the aftermath of her court case. Check on Tiana, still staying with Dylan's friend Anya and occasionally visiting Peri now in order to see Russell. There was Eamonn, alive and out there somewhere. Naya's master, whoever he was. The bargain with Shaohao, and the Darkness waiting for her to make good on her vow, but she still didn't know how, because her first attempt had bombed. Balor still watched Nuada like a hawk. Bres and Nuala were still engaged. Nuala was still a selfish brat, in Dylan's opinion. The treaty was yet in place. War between humans and Fae yet loomed on the horizon. And there was still the Grand Royal Wedding to plan and a pair of sisters to inform.
"Be careful, mo duinne," Nuada said, jolting her from her thoughts. She'd completely forgotten he sat beside her in the carriage. "Scowl any more fiercely, and your exquisitely lovely face may freeze that way.'' He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed.
"That's my line!''
He offered a satisfied smirk. "Well, I couldn't help noticing your ferocious expression and thought I ought to give fair warning. What are you thinking about so intently?"
"Just going over our royal laundry list of problems. Eamonn-"
"I have my agents searching for him,'' Nuada interrupted. "He will be found, my love. And I've had one of my servants researching ways to reset the wards around your cottage's thresholds so he cannot enter again. When we return to the capital, if a way has been found, we shall relay the warding lines. Your cottage will be safe once more.''
Intrigued, and wondering if he had solutions to all of their current problems up his sleeve, she asked, "Bres and Nuala?"
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely obscene. Dylan smiled gently.
"Let me talk to her. Maybe if she finds out he threatened me - threatened both of us - she'll be more willing to ditch him. And Naya's master?"
"My spies and servants watch every high-ranking fear gortach at court. Shaohao said he was one of the famine fiends, and Naya warned us he held a position of great authority. Our list of potential suspects is down to less than thirty men. We needn't fear anyone who is not a male fear gortach. And they're not precisely common. The Golden Court has more than the Sea Court of Ciocal or the Court of the Hills in Eirc because several of my father's advisors are fear gortach. Usually they're solitary creatures, avoiding even their own kind, but he has accrued several as allies and friends over the centuries."
"Is that what his cabinet is?" Dylan asked. "Obviously not all of them, but the Lord Provost? The Lord Chamberlain? The Lord of the Treasury?" These were the only members of Balor's inner circle that she'd actually met, and both the Lord Treasurer and the Lord Provost were the same kind of fae as Lord Box-Head of the Creepy Worm Fingers.
"Yes. They are all fear gortach. They will help with my search as well.''
"You don't suspect them?"
"The Lord Provost hates humans, as does the Lord Treasurer, though for worse reasons." At her baffled look, he said, "The Lord Provost is supreme commander of all of Bethmoora's law enforcement, and he sees what the treaty does to our people. He sees it every day. Whereas the Lord of the Treasury sees what reparations for damages done by bandits and other humans does to the royal coffers."
"Ugh.'' She grimaced. "That's repulsive.''
"All of those in my father's inner circle...none of them did this. I have reasons for each, good and bad, but I believe them all to be innocent. If nothing else, what was done to the unicorns...no, it was not them.''
Chilled, Dylan scrunched under her blankets. Even with the warming spells laid on the carriage, she'd been so horribly cold all day. It had made it difficult to sleep the night before, too. Now she wanted nothing more than to shut off the worry and snuggle up to Nuada for a nap.
"We still have to get the silver apples from Avalon.''
A smile curved dark lips. "Arawn will help us, I am certain.'' A pensive expression crossed his face. "Taran believes so, at least, and I trust his judgment. Arawn has no love for humans, but Taran was most impressed with the work you have done for our people. I believe he did not expect you to work so very hard. We have accomplished much, despite my father's interference. That will weigh heavily in our favor when we go before Arawn and Queen Penarddun. If I can arrange it, we will go to Annwn when Princess Eilonwy visits from Gavaudan. She and Llyr are fond of me, and they are their father's favorites."
He must have noticed her scowl, because he touched two fingers to her wrist. She looked up. Sighed.
"What is it?'' He asked.
"Call me nosy, or obnoxious, or whatever, but I don't approve of parents having favorites. That's all."
"Llyr is favored because he is the youngest, and a...what is that word A'du used? Ah, yes. A nerd." He blinked, bemused, when she snorted a laugh. "Arawn is himself more scholar than warrior, unlike his children - all save Llyr. And Eilonwy is favored because she is married."
Dylan arched a brow. "Pardon?''
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as humans say. She lives in Gavaudan, rather far from Annwn. Her parents miss her greatly, so they are more likely to indulge her when she visits.''
"Huh. Handy.''
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The clearing in the Royal Forest where Prince Nuada had recently taken his intended was quiet now. No dream fox kits gamboled on the grass, no sisters chatted with each other, no totoro bounced happily on picnic blankets. No heartsick prince wept in the arms of his beloved.
There was only the lavender unicorn standing in the middle of the lush green grass. Her head hung low, and her amethyst eyes held shadows.
*I promised you a moon and a day, Elven child. But that time is ended. The shadows will soon return.*
The unicorn knew there was nothing to be done. She only sensed that there was danger, but not what shape it would take or when it would strike. She knew the Elf prince and the mortal healer would survive the next shadow, but who knew how many other lives would be lost?
*Mortal child, do you remember? My gift to you will come not now, but soon, when it is truly needed. Twice you will want me. Once, after you have trusted the enemy to draw his sword at your back in your defense, and the second time, when a serpent the color of blood reveals his honor in death. I bade you come to this meadow both times, when the moon begins to rise, and I promised I would come bearing your gifts. The time for that first gifting draws closer and closer. Do not forget, mortal girl.*
The unicorn sighed and watched the moon, still in the sky despite the daylight already dawned. If the human child forgot, the prince would die. The unicorn knew it deep in her bones.
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It was after the break for the midday meal, and the convoy was back on the road again, when Dylan leaned against Nuada and asked, "What are we going to do about my deal with Shaohao? People are going to wonder if Zhenjin stays around after we get back to Findias, unless he comes with us to Annwn. But even so,'' she bit her lip, thinking, "I still haven't figured out why the Darkness got so...angry? Offended? It acted like I was trying to cheat the bargain, but I wasn't. I did try to keep my word, honestly.''
They had to figure out what had gone wrong and fix it. Quickly. If the Darkness grew impatient, it would kill her. It would peel the flesh from her body first, and then...she didn't know. Maybe she'd die of shock before she had the chance to find out.
"Shaohao said you had to give Zhenjin the same chances that you gave to me," Nuada said.
Dylan thumped her heel against the base of the carriage seat. "I did. And it was extremely weird and uncomfortable, even if Zhenjin is very attractive. It didn't feel right. Even though I think he's handsome and attractive - which are not the same thing - kissing him...'' She shot Nuada a furtive look. "Um...we don't have to talk about this if it bothers you.''
A quick quirk of that dark mouth, a ghost of a smile.
"Beloved, I know what the pair of you did together in that room, and I have made my peace with it. Go on. It felt odd?"
"Yes. I don't know why. It felt like every other time I've dated someone that I didn't know very well. I don't know, maybe there's some kind of familiarity threshold people have to meet before I want to kiss them? I mean, I didn't start wanting to kiss you until I really got to know you.''
"But you know Zhenjin."
Dylan shook her head glumly. "Not the way I know you. I know him…" She paused. Blinked. Stared at Nuada in sudden realization. "I don't know him. I don't know him the way I know you!" She smacked herself in the forehead. "Of course! Cesca even said it, although I don't think she really understood what exactly she was saying. It all makes sense now. He's attractive because I kind of know and trust him, but we're not in the same place physically that you and I are! I feel so stupid."
Nuada opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it a second time, only to close it again. Finally he mumbled, "What?''
"Zhenjin knows me, because he has all those memories of yours. At least everything you showed him; I'm still not totally sure what all that was. By the time you and Zhenjin had that...mind-meldy thingy, Nuada, you'd already walked through my mind three times. We'd done a soul-purging. You knew me. And so did he, because of you. But Zhenjin never showed me anything from his mind."
Warmth bloomed in her chest. Pushing to her feet, Dylan somehow paced the width of the rumbling magical carriage. Nuada watched her in fascination as she continued to think out loud.
"Zhenjin and I are close because," she ticked off reasons on her fingers, "he was there for me when you and I were fighting and I was so upset, he knows me, we agreed to be friends, I trust him, and he was there for me while I was recovering in the cave. I absolutely trust him, but not because I know him well. Not for the same reason I trust you.
"I trust Zhenjin because you trust him, and the Spirit says you're right. And I like him. He's nice, and he's funny. We...what's that word? Click! We click, which you and I didn't do. But none of that is knowing. And without knowing, it's not the same as it is with you. You know?"
Topaz eyes studied her. Grooves creased Nuada's brow, mirroring Dylan's as she thought it over, nibbling a thumbnail. She slumped back onto the carriage seat. Nuada processed her words. It made sense, he supposed. He and Zhenjin were very different men, for all they were such close friends. Dylan's familiarity with Zhenjin - could it be simply trust and "clicking,'' as she'd put it?
Nuada hadn't "clicked" with Dylan. Every moment of those first three months in the underground sanctuary, and even for a time after, had been fraught with tension. The two of them had peeled back the layers bit by bit, through shared secrets and unexpected kindnesses and the bonds of honor and need. Not so with Zhenjin and Dylan. Zhenjin had had those same feelings Nuada did, at least at first, because he shared the memories of those months of discovery. But Dylan did not have that same bond with the Dilong prince. She shared it only with Nuada.
"Then...the three encounters. What are you supposed to do?" He asked.
Feeling like a moron, she said, "Get to know him."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?''
"Well, we'll probably have to kiss a bit, but...we thought Shaohao was doing this to be a jerk, but what if it's not? What if this is exactly what he said it was?"
"What would that be?"
"He wants me to give Zhenjin a real chance. He wants me to try to fall in love with him, the way I fell in love with you - by getting to know you. I think...instead of holing up in a room and getting handsy with each other, I think we're supposed to go on dates. You know, like you and I did."
He frowned. "We do not go on dates, mo duinne.''
"Um, yeah, we do. The Night Parade? The Troll Market? Carnegie Hall on my birthday? The Royal Forest-" She fell silent when he held up both hands in surrender.
"All right, I concede the point. To be honest,'' Nuada said after a moment, "I think he would prefer this. It did not sit well with him, using you so." At her look, he added, "I will not lie to you. Had it been myself in his position, I know that I would have relished being able, being allowed, to hold you. To kiss you. But I would've also been ashamed at the pleasure I would feel, because it wasn't what you wanted. Do you think either Zhenjin or myself could forget such a thing? Forget how you felt in such a moment? No, mo duinne. We both love you too much for that.
"Yet you said it was odd for you, being with him, even though you find him attractive? Will that be a problem for you if you have to...go on dates? Will it make you uncomfortable?"
"No more than I am now," she said. "The way I feel about Zhenjin physically is weird. He's very handsome, and he puts me at ease - usually - so he doesn't trip my fear response like a lot of men. And...he reminds me so much of you, which makes him incredibly hot to me for some reason. But being physical with him, it...I don't know. It's not... unpleasant. It just feels odd, and nothing like when I'm with you."
Nuada was thoughtful, sitting silently for a long moment as the carriage rolled down the King's Road. At last, he ventured, "I have a question. I do not seek to embarrass you."
"Um...okay?"
"Have you ever been attracted to anyone besides me? I do not mean to sound arrogant-"
She arched an eyebrow. "You don't? Since when?"
"Hush, woman." He grinned when she laughed. "You say being with Zhenjin wasn't like being with me? Has it ever been that way with anyone else?"
To his mild shock, Dylan's cheeks flushed a vivid scarlet. She nodded slowly.
"Not often, but...Kaye. And Peri, my sidhe neighbor. And the kitsune who mostly taught me Fae medicine, Jushiro. Once I got to know them, once we really connected, they were...very attractive to me. At the time, I mean.
"I never acted on it, though. I actually tried my best not to think about any of them like that. Kaye's married, for crying out loud. And she loves Roiben, I could never have...and Jushiro was married, too. And gay. And Peri...she had Bean, and she was still recovering from what her family put her through, and...she just wasn't in a good place to be having a relationship at the time. Neither was I, to tell you the truth. Plus the whole Mormon thing, it just...anyway.
"Yes, I've been attracted in the same way before. Sort of. It's way worse with you though because of all the kissing, you big meanie."
"Oh, my love! Do I not kiss you enough?" His expression was impossibly guileless, his voice as smooth as cream. "I must endeavor to please you better."
Dylan's hands shot out as if to ward him off. "Nope! No touching! No kissing! Not when we're alone in a carriage and you have that look."
"What look is that?"
"You know what look. The pretty boy look. The 'kiss me, let me show you the wonders of my tongue' look."
Nuada stared at her for a very long moment. "Excuse me?"
"Don't even try to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I have no idea what you mean. Granted, my tongue is capable of many wonders-"
She glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at her mouth. "You shut up. Get back on topic."
"I thought your myriad reactions to the physical was the topic." When she narrowed her eyes at him, he conceded. "One last question. Do you need to know someone very well before you become attracted to them?"
"Yes. Except Az, I don't know him that well at all, but he's...Az."
Nuada remembered his own visceral reaction to Moundshroud's eldest son and shuddered. He did not know, even now, if it was desire or terror.
"Why are you so full of questions, by the way?"
Yanking his mind back to the present, he said, "Because everything about you fascinates me."
He offered a smile, but it quickly slipped away. "And because I'm trying to figure out a way to help you keep this blasted bargain with as little discomfort as possible."
He could have cheerfully murdered Shaohao and danced on his grave for doing this to her. And yet, he owed the exiled prince of Dilong - once for saving Dylan's life after Sreng had tortured her, and again when the Darkness had clawed up her already-damaged back when it thought she'd broken her vow.
Nuada hated Shaohao, but Dylan didn't. Was that because of her faith, or another reason? He didn't know, but the Dilong prince needed to be grateful. If not for Dylan, Nuada would have made it one of his missions in life to kill the other prince.
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As evening fell and the journey grew wearisome, Nuada thought of another night in a strange room, alone, the weight of his people's needs and expectations crushing him. Reflexively, he reached out, clasping Dylan's hand in his. One of her fingers rested crookedly compared to the others. Had he ever noticed that before?
"Nuada?" She must have seen something in his face. "What's wrong?"
"I wanted to be married by now," he confessed softly. If they were wed, he wouldn't have to sleep alone. He could lay his head against her heart, feel her run her fingers through his hair, and they could talk of everything or nothing until they both fell asleep.
He was so tired of having to leave her when night came and things were darkest. He always slept better in her presence.
Dylan gave a soft, disbelieving little chuckle. "Nuada, the Frost Moon isn't for another we-"
"Oh, to the thirteen hells with the blasted, stars-cursed moon. If not for Shaohao and this thrice-damned bargain he forced you into, we could...we could run off and elope tonight. Never mind all the fuss and pomp."
She laughed, but not at him. A delighted little laugh, and her eyes sparkled like star sapphires. "Oh, if only. I'm so tired of waiting, I just want to get it over with before something else happens. But don't we have to marry under that hawthorn tree? The one where you first proposed?"
"Traditionally, it would be that one, but it doesn't have to be. I am the crown prince; I could call a hawthorn tree from anywhere in the kingdom and it would come to me."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "What about the cake?"
"I would make you a cake," he vowed.
"You don't know how to bake,"she reminded him gently.
"I would buy you a cake."
The tension began to seep out of her as Dylan allowed herself to get caught up in Nuada's wistful whimsy. "What about my dress?"
That threw him, but only for a second.
"I would catch moonbeams betwixt my fingers and spin them into silk the color of pearl for you."
"You can sew?"
He sniffed haughtily. "Do not be ridiculous. Of course I can." A pause, and then he added, a bit sourly, "If I could not make or find you a gown, I would give you my white tunic. The one you sometimes borrow to sleep in. The fancy one with the gold and silver embroidery."
Dylan smiled wistfully. "It is pretty. Shoot, I'd marry you stark naked if I had to."
A single blonde brow quirked. Darkly shadowed lips curved into a wicked grin.
"Well, my lady, I certainly would not object to such an arrangement."
Dylan gave a snort. "I'll just bet. Unless we had witnesses?"
"Not at all. I would merely glamour you, to preserve your modesty among our wedding guests. The glorious vision of your true, undraped loveliness would be mine and mine alone to savor." His grin widened when she flushed a vibrant crimson. "Surely my lady has come to realize how truly beautiful she is, regardless of how she is clothed. I would worship you if you wore a burlap sack, or filthy rags, or nothing at all."
She jabbed a finger at him. "You stop that. Stop being so...so…"
"Hot?" Such a charming, wicked grin.
She should never have taught him that word. "Yes."
"Alas, I fear it is impossible. Hotness is too deeply entrenched in my very self." He offered her a wink when she rolled her eyes at him, but then he sobered. "I do not say this to sadden you, a ghra, but truly do I wish we could run away and wed tonight.
"And no - I see the question in your eyes. For all my jesting, I do not wish it simply because I long to have you in my bed where I can make love to you as you deserve. I ache to be able to hold you in my arms. To fall asleep knowing you will be beside me when I wake. I yearn to be able to call you my wife. My princess.
"I curse Shaohao, that he has with this foolish, useless bargain managed to snatch away one of my dearest dreams and dangle it over my head like some bullying child. I want..." He snapped his teeth shut. Looked away, toward the sun setting beyond the carriage window.
Dylan laid a hand on his arm, a little unsure. "What do you want? Please tell me."
Nuada sighed. "I just want our happy ending."
When she slid her arms around him, he dropped his cheek to the top of her hair. She cuddled close.
"I want that, too," she said. "We'll get there, though. Don't worry. We'll try the whole date thing with Zhenjin to finish up the stupid bargain, and if it works, we'll get hitched right then. Forget the big royal bash, forget the full moon. Yeah?"
Gentle fingers tipped up her chin. She glimpsed soft, honey-amber eyes and then he was kissing her. Warm lips pressed in, impossibly careful, impossibly perfect.
Against her lips, Nuada whispered, "Absolutely. A brilliant plan."
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The fae woman had just stepped beyond the cave entrance when the birds in the trees all fell silent. Golden Sparrow, the favorite wife of Prince Shaohao Ti-Lung of Dilong, stopped to try to listen. Her senses were far more acute than an Elf's, or even a dragon's; she could hear things even her husband could not - snow falling in the night; the beating of an owl's wings; a rabbit's heartbeat as it raced through the brush.
There was nothing. The woods had gone silent and still as death.
"My love?" Prince Shaohao stepped out of the cave, grinning at her. She really was his absolute favorite. But the moment he saw her expression, his grin faded away. "What is it?"
"The forest...is afraid," she murmured. "It senses...something. Something it fears more than almost anything else. The very earth is afraid."
He curled an arm around her when she shivered. The small, trembling firebird leaned into him.
"Will it try to hurt us?" He whispered in her ear. "Whatever is frightening the forest?" Beneath the words smoldered the embers of insane rage.
Golden Sparrow shook her head. "Whatever it is, it doesn't know we're here. Its focus...whatever is going to happen is further south than we are. Closer to the villages, farther from these wilder lands."
Shaohao's eyes, coal black when he was calm and bronze the rest of the time, shifted to a bronze washed with scarlet as he studied the southern horizon. The Silverlance and the mortal moon brat were to the south, headed back to Bethmoora's capital. Was Zhenjin with them still? Probably, since the bargain was as yet unfulfilled.
If this looming, dreadful...whatever it was posed a threat to his brother, he would hunt it down and eliminate it. No one hurt his little dragon.
But it was too early to worry about it yet. Golden Sparrow only sensed the dread, not the thing causing it. It would begin to snow again soon. They needed more firewood before that happened. Practicalities first, then they could decide what to do about other things.
So he merely gave his wife a squeeze and kissed her temple. She offered a small smile.
Still, Shaohao accompanied her into the woods in search of more fuel for their fire. He didn't want either of them to go anywhere alone.
By the time they returned to their cave, the silence had deepened.
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Sreng Mac Umhor mounted his horse and looked to his lieutenant, one of his favorite offspring.
"You know what to do?"
"Yes, Father. All shall be as you have commanded."
"Very good. I shall bring back some nice things for you and your brothers and sisters, so keep the camp running and make sure my gift is waiting when I return."
His child grinned. "What do you think the wretch will say?"
"We shall soon see," he said. To the fighters he'd hand-picked for this mission, he added, "Let's move out."
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Dylan smiled to herself as her white arion mare walked along the King's Road. It was supposed to be ever eternal spring in the Royal Forest, but not on the King's Road, which was subject to the whims of time and the seasons. So amidst the relief convoy winding its way along the enchanted road, Dylan sat astride her talking horse, golden chains and garnets in her brown hair, her red velvet cloak like a splash of mortal blood against the snow. Tiny flakes drifted from the dove-gray sky to settle on the velvet.
She'd become a decent rider on this trip. Now, at least, she could sit on Maeve's back without slouching. With her velvets and jewels, Dylan knew she looked like a princess out of a picture book. For a moment she just let herself forget all the responsibility of being a princess and just enjoyed the nip of winter, the scent of snow, the crunch of hooves on frosted drifts. They had only two or three more days on the road before they were back in Findias.
In the old days, using the King's Road would've gotten them back in less than a day, but due to the weakening of Balor's magic, the spells had lost some of their efficacy. Dylan wondered what would happen when Nuada took the throne. How much of Bethmoora's magic had been lost? And how much of it might they get back when her prince became king?
A sudden, warm pulse of magic swept over her just as Zhenjin trotted up beside her on his gold-and-ruby dragon-horse, Qin. The snow continued to drift in tiny flurries and the sounds of horses and wagons still filled the air, but all of a sudden it all felt muffled and distant. Zhenjin had glamoured them.
She said nothing as he guided Qin up to her, so close his knee almost brushed hers. But she flashed him a bright smile and silently asked Maeve to match his pace.
"We need to talk, Dylan," Zhenjin said. His voice held no chill, but it held no warmth, either. "I have glamoured us for privacy. Only Silverlance can hear us without straining. The others will respect the shield I've erected."
Wary now, she canted her head. "I'm all ears. What's up?" Was it more rumors? Something else?
"Why did you not tell me the Darkness attacked you after our...encounter?"
Thank goodness for Maeve. If Dylan had been walking on her own two feet instead of horseback, she would've face-planted right into a snowdrift. But the fae mare didn't falter a step. Dylan stared at the Dilong prince. Zhenjin wouldn't look at her.
I hurt his feelings, she realized. He thinks I'm keeping things from him because I don't trust him. Or because I had to let him kiss me? Something.
"I...I forgot," she confessed sheepishly.
His head snapped around. Reptilian green eyes narrowed at her.
"You forgot? How did you possibly forget?"
"Stuff happened," she snapped. "More bandit attacks, people dying, people getting sick, blizzards. The king popped up out of nowhere, no warning, which was freaking scary, and at that point we just focused on getting rid of him before he hurt someone. More someones. So…" Dylan grimaced. "So I forget to mention it. I'm sorry, I should've told you. I honestly just forgot."
After a somewhat awkward silence, he sighed. "Thank you for saying so. I...I could not forgive myself if you were harmed because I did something wrong with regards to this bargain. It is my fault you must suffer this to begin with."
"Wasn't you," she said. "If I hadn't told Nuada to do that whole mind-meldy thingy...anyway, the Darkness pitching a hissy fit had nothing to do with you, either."
Zhenjin actually laughed. "I do so love your human slang. 'Hissy fit.' But how do you know?"
Dylan quickly filled him in on what she and Nuada had discussed the night before.
"I really think that you and I just need to go on actual dates and spend more time together. It just...that feels right. You know?"
He didn't speak for a long time. Dylan recalled what Nuada had said about pleasure and shame and thinking of her own feelings. It made sense for Zhenjin to feel a little disappointed that kissing her was no longer a given, but still…
An odd expression crossed the Elven prince's face, one Dylan couldn't read. Maybe...triumph?
"And so through your cleverness I have found a way to regain some of my lost honor, and repay some of my debt to you."
"Um…" Baffled, she cocked her head. "What? What debt? You don't owe me anything, Zhen."
"I do, even if you are too generous to hold me accountable. I owe you much. You have made me a better person. So, in order to keep this thrice-scorched bargain of my brother's, you must give me three chances to woo you in the span of three moons, is that not so? Woo you as Nuada did, with dates and talk and getting to know one another. Yes?"
"Yes…"
"And this is why you and Silverlance have moved your wedding from the Frost Moon to the Blossom Moon in May, yes?"
She had no idea where he was going with this, but the reminder of the postponement made her growl, "Yes."
"Did my brother specifically demand that you put off the wedding?"
"Well..." Dylan thought back. "No, actually. He didn't say we had to, just that we might as well, since someone like me would probably want the full time. I didn't have any idea what he meant by that, but I was a bit preoccupied at the time. The almost dying and everything. Why? Is that a problem?"
Zhenjin shook his head. That weird, sort of triumphant expression was back on his handsome face. Dylan suddenly noticed the emerald scales gracing his brows, temples, cheeks, and neck had lost their luster. They seemed dull, like fogged-over green glass. From the cold? Was he getting ready to molt or something? Did dragons shed their scales?
"My brother...forgive me, my moonlight, but he was implying you were a slut and would want to take full advantage of being my...bedroom companion before you wed."
She blinked. "Oh. Rude. That makes it sound like I don't care about your feelings at all. Or Nuada's either. Rude.
"Okay, but I'm confused, though. Why is any of this important?"
"Because, as the bargain actually applies to wooing and not what liberties Silverlance may or may not have enjoyed, there is no reason to postpone your wedding."
"I...what? But then I'm not giving you the same chance that-"
"The bargain calls for you to give me the chance to make you love me, the same chance Silverlance had. But marriage had nothing to do with that. He told me you only agreed to marry him because King Balor commanded it. You refused him at first. And I know from his memories that you believed him in love with someone else, and destined for another in the beginning."
"That's true, I...I mean, yeah, I thought all that, did all that, but I don't...I'm confused."
"You did not give Nuada a chance with regards to marriage. You believed it impossible for the pair of you until Balor became involved. You are not, therefore, bound by your vow to give me that chance. You are only bound to open yourself to the possibility of falling in love with me. Marriage to him wouldn't interfere with that. Did you not just confess that twice you developed feelings for a fae already wed?"
She stared at him. At the crooked smile, the shadowed eyes. The affection, the pain. She'd been exposed to faeries and their tricks since she was a toddler, but it hadn't occurred to her to try to use pixie logic on the deal. Zhenjin had. He'd figured all of this out and just given it right to her. Even though he...
"Why are you telling me this?"
Another hot pulse of magic, a slight pressure behind her nose. Strengthening the glamour. Dylan rubbed her tongue over her teeth to wipe away the tingling.
"Because," Zhenjin murmured, "I love you. I love both of you. And your happiness means the world to me, my moonlight. I would trade my immortality, my crown, my very blood if it meant assuring your happiness. You are my friend."
Her eyes stung. She didn't deserve a friend like him, Dylan thought.
"Are you telling me that you'll be at my wedding?" She asked, voice thick. When the question had arisen before, he'd refused to answer.
Zhenjin smiled. "Knowing the pair of you, you'll run to the next village priest we meet. I'd have no choice but to attend." Seeing her uncertainty, he said gently, "Yes, my friend. I will be at your wedding. And if I were you, I'd have that wedding when we reach the next village. Balor can throw the formal affair when we all return to Findias, but any hawthorn tree, priest, and moon in the sky makes a Bethmooran wedding legal."
She wanted to squeal. She wanted to dance. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss the scaled, copper cheek and squeeze him until he laughed and squeezed her back. But she was almost sure it would only hurt him. So she just reached over and gripped his hand.
"Thank you, Zhen."
"Anything for you, O Jewel Among Mortals."
.
The kelpie touched the smooth surface of the winter-dark water. Ripples dispelled the image until only the fading sun and bruise-colored sky were reflected in the small pond. One thin, almost skeletal hand wiped at the trickles of black blood smeared just under his nose, eyes, and ears.
"Well?"
He looked up into that beautiful, despised face. How could anyone so terrible smile at him with such fondness?
An act. He knew it was all an act. Yet still, he could not help searching her face for some small measure of mercy, some softness.
"I believe the Silverlance may try to wed the mortal traitor tonight, lieutenant. The images were not clear; the harlot was shielded by royal glamour." The words were like poison in his throat. The Silverlance was the heir to the Bethmooran throne. The future king. And here he was, betraying that king to this bitch.
"And where are they going?" The lieutenant demanded. She gave no indication she cared at all about the possibility of a royal wedding.
"To the north tower, fallen and rebuilt," he said bitterly. She lifted a hand in an iron gauntlet, ready to backhand him. The kelpie flinched away. "To Broch Toruch! To Lallybroch!"
She lowered her hand. "Just where the captain thought they would be. Perhaps you actually are useful. Hurry up and send word to the captain. We've no time for a village battle tonight. Luckily for us, the bitch and her prince have given us a distraction."
When she smiled at the kelpie, he shuddered and bowed his head.
.
That evening, when everyone had settled in the latest village inn for the night, Dylan watched the gibbous moon rise. Would Nuada care that the moon wasn't full? Would he really not care that they couldn't do this under the great, magical hawthorn tree in the Royal Gardens? Would he really even want to do it at all? Something so impetuous, so...ridiculous as eloping? And what would the king say?
But she was so tired of waiting. She wanted their happy ending, like her prince had said before. Wanted to be his wife at last. To be honest, Dylan didn't really want to be a princess or even a noblewoman. But if that was the price of being with Nuada, then so be it. And by now, with everything else they had to worry about, she just wanted this whole wedding thing to be over.
So she asked Guardsman Loen to go to the prince and request his presence in her chambers (on the off-chance he did say no, it would make it easier for both of them to retreat if necessary). It was late, but she'd seen the village priestess on her way upstairs, the wizened old bean sidhe talking animatedly with an Elf who'd been introduced earlier as the Star-Kindler's priest for this and the two nearby villages. Last time they'd been in Lallybroch, he'd been too sick to spend any time socializing, but he seemed much better now. In fact he, the priestess, and Bob the basajaun seemed as if they weren't quitting their discussion anytime soon. If Nuada agreed to this, Dylan would send Loen to fetch the Elf priest.
A soft knock at her door. Dylan's heart slammed against her breastbone. Her hands abruptly began to shake, and she had to press them against her skirts.
"Come in." Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?
Nuada must have known from her expression that something was going on, because the moment he stepped into the room, he commanded her guards, "Leave us." When they'd filed out of the room to wait in the hall, her prince went to her. Took both of her hands ever so gently in his own.
"What is it? The look on your face…"
"I talked to Zhenjin on the way here," she began."You saw that?" Nuada nodded. "Did you hear what we were talking about?"
A silvery brow winged upward. "Eavesdrop? I?"
She huffed a laugh."Good point. Well...Zhenjin pointed out a loophole in the bargain with Shaohao. A loophole in our favor." She quickly explained what their friend had figured out regarding how marriage and everything fit with the faerie deal.
Nuada only stared at her. "He is certain?" He asked at last.
Dylan nodded.
Her prince let out a long breath and sank onto the edge of her bed. He gazed up at her. Hesitated. "What do you wish to do, Dylan?"
"Get married," she said immediately.
Nuada chuckled. "Wait one more week instead of three months-"
"Not in a week. Let's do it tonight. I want to get married tonight."
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Finally he stammered, "I...what...but...tonight?"
"You said you were tired of all the delays," Dylan hurried on. "You said you want our happy ending. This is the next step, right? I want to take that step. I want to stop worrying that our enemies will find a way to ruin every moment of happiness we manage to grab. I want to stop saying 'good night' and watching you walk out that door and down the hall when what I really want - what I need - is to fall asleep cuddled up to you…"
She trailed off when he rose slowly to his feet. In two swift strides, he stood in front of her, honey-amber eyes flickering every so often to gold-kissed ivory or gliltering sunfire like carnelians backed by candlelight. She whispered his name, but her lips moved soundlessly. She had no voice. Somehow, Nuada's gaze almost seemed to scald.
Then he kissed her.
His hands came up to frame her face, cradling her. His mouth burned, wonderfully hot. Impossibly hot. He hadn't kissed her like this - a kiss that tantalized, tasted of cruel longing, sharp with hope, a kiss that threatened to drown them both, a kiss that burned - in a long time. Dylan realized absently that a slight tremor kept running through him, but the realization drifted away as Nuada's mouth moved over hers.
She tried to lean forward when at last he pulled back. A small sound of frustration grumbled out of her, and Nuada chuckled under his breath. Dylan saw his eyes held an odd gleam. Not lust. Hope? Anguish? Fear?
"Every time I thought real joy was in my grasp," he whispered, "always it was snatched from me. I expected a stumbling block like Shaohao's bargain, you know, and never thought to find a loophole. I thought...it simply seemed just that my dreams should always be thwarted at the last. Yet now you tell me this thing I have yearned for even before I realized it was a spark of a wish in my heart...it is to be mine? I am to be yours ever and always? Tonight?"
When she drew her fingertips down his cheek, light as gossamer, he let his eyes drift closed.
"You've always been mine," she murmured. "Just like I'm yours. We swore it, remember? Until the stars fall. Until the world turns to dust, I am-"
"With you," he said. "Forgive me, it just...it all seems too wonderful to be true."
"But you want to, right?"
The look he gave her made her stomach flip and her heart skip a beat.
"More than nearly anything in this world, a ghra mo chroi." He kissed her again, a kiss that made her toes curl. Nuada murmured against her mouth, "Let me honor you with this ceremony tonight. I should bathe, and don more suitable clothes."
Her slightly unfocused gaze drifted over him. He still wore the tunic and trews he'd ridden in all day. She didn't mind him wearing black to their impromptu wedding, but he did, apparently. And neither of them probably smelled too great after riding in the carriage and being in the saddle all day.
"I should probably wash up, too," she murmured. "Oh, and I have to tell John and the others-"
"Leave that to Setanta and Eimh, perhaps? While you bathe?"
"Okay," and she giggled, suddenly elated. "Okay. I guess...I guess I'll see you in a little bit. Um...an hour?"
"In one hour," he murmured, and brushed a kiss across her lips.
.
That night, Sreng Mac Umhor woke instantly when Padraig, his second, stepped into his tent. There were no dreams to shake off. Unless he exhausted himself in battle or with a slave, or used magic wrung from an unwilling dream fae of some kind, he never dreamed. Not since that day thousands of years ago when old King Balor had poured raw, wild, royal magic into him and made him truly immortal.
The bandit captain sat up in his cot and growled at Padraig, "There's no whore behind you, you bear no ale, and I smell no food cooking. Nor do I hear any screaming. So what is it?"
"The moon is in position and the spell is ready, Captain."
Sreng merely grunted and climbed out of bed. After two days in the saddle, everything was ready at last. He'd have ripped out his own teeth before admitting the other man's words sent a fizz of nerves through his stomach. The same nerves he'd felt when his company - his family - had attacked the village of Lallybroch knowing Balor was there this time.
Outside, the small group of oh so carefully chosen soldiers - Padraig and five others, five of Sreng's own sons - waited around the small campfire. Their spy had already planted the crystal that would allow the illusion spell to work. Now Sreng simply needed to activate the second crystal. His own.
"Set up the patrol," he ordered. "I don't want to be interrupted."
It was a shame, really, he thought. He would've given nearly anything to see the look on that treacherous slut's face after all this. But Balor had been his friend once, long ago. Or as close to a friend as he could've been. He deserved a chance to...understand why this was all happening. What sort of demon Nuada was. Why he owed Sreng a debt. Why the fae needed to be wiped from the face of both Realms.
Or maybe he wouldn't tell the old fool anything. Maybe he would simply bring down his kingdom, his bloodline, as Silverlance deserved. Balor was not the lily-white demon prince, but he'd spawned him, oh yes. Spawned him with that flame-haired harlot…
Sreng bit back something vile and glanced to the east, to the moon, and to Findias. Bethmoora's capital, less than a mile away. He'd lived there once. Several of his children had been sired and even born there. His first comrades and shield brothers had come from human slums, or the bored halfling get of Fae lords and their human tarts. He was fond of Findias. When he returned with his army and slaughtered and enslaved the fae who lived there, he would try to keep it from burning - for its own sake, and as an apology to Balor for making a slave and then a corpse of his precious heir.
He drew his dirk and sliced across his callused palm. Usually a spell like this required only a few drops of blood, but the old fool's palace was warded well. It would take more than a drop or two. Only the impossible, insane magic in his blood even got him through the wards.
Scarlet blood dripped onto the crystal Sreng laid before the crackling fire. Magic sparked. The spell sank its claws into him and dragged him toward Findus, and the palace, and Balor.
.
Dylan supposed she should've expected it, but she still squealed when, after a quick rap on the door from Ailbho outside to alert the guards in her room, Francesca barged in, followed by Pauline. Dylan lost her balance, sliding with a splash onto her back in the copper bath full of gently steaming water.
"My lady?" Fionnlagh took a step toward her, but Dylan popped up, wincing and sputtering and waving her back to her spot against the wall.
"What the heck?" She croaked. She yanked her good knee up to her chest, trying to also cover herself with her arms. "Why? Shut the door, it's freezing. And also, why? And why did Ailbho let you in?"
"Because I told him I'm here to help you," Cesca said. "Which is true."
Pauline, who'd shut her eyes the minute she comprehended her baby sister was naked in a bathtub, kicked the door shut and folded her arms.
"You're getting married? Tonight?"
Francesca dumped a bag and a pile of fabric on her sister's bed and added, "Yeah, what's the big rush? Break some Mormon rule or something? Scared you'll succumb at last to His Royal Hotness's sexy wiles? I was in the middle of snuggling Bob when your puppy barges over and says we're eloping, I freaking guess? Did you guys do something handsy?"
Dylan hunched in the tub. "No. Get out." Who the heck was Bob?
"Why?"
"Um...because I'm naked? In a bathtub?"
Francesca sat on the bed with a scoff. "Puh. Lease. I've got my eyes closed, and I'm pretty sure Pauline does, too. Anyway, you need me. How are you supposed to look your best for your wedding if no one's around to do your hair and makeup?"
Dylan opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a mousey squeak. And what was Fionnlagh snickering about? She shot the gaurdswoman a Look. Fionnlagh coughed and looked at the floor. Finally Dylan managed, "You can't just waltz in here when I'm naked."
"I've seen you naked before."
"Not recently!"
Cesca made a face. Dylan suddenly realized the expression was one of...embarrassment. But...but Cesca was never embarrassed about anything. She could've swanned naked through a packed church and laughed it off. But no, Francesca was trying to stave off the decidedly foreign emotion with the full force of her own bravura.
Pauline, off by herself, looked like she had the beginnings of a migraine.
"Okay," Cesca admitted, getting to her feet. Her hands moved in sweeping arcs as she began to pace the length of the room, tripping every so often on a footstool and swearing under her breath. "Okay, yeah, we probably - ow, crap - should've knocked first-"
"Probably?" Dylan echoed.
"Should've, ohmigawd. I panicked, I'm sorry. The dog said you were getting married-"
Pauline interjected, "Weird sentence!"
"Yes," Cesca cried, shooting a finger into the air. "Weird sentence. Anyway, the dog said you were getting married and all I could think - ow, why is this here? - of was you getting hitched in a freaking potato sack with your hair in a rat's nest and no makeup."
In spite of herself, Dylan couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, no. The horror."
"You be nice to me," Cesca insisted, flopping back onto the bed. "Also I might be drunk."
"How much did you drink?"
"I dunno." She shrugged. "I was fine until the Smurfs."
Dylan arched a brow. "Smurfs?"
"Somebody exsanguinated them," Cesca said mournfully. "I think. 'Cause there was a pitcher full of blue stuff and it was delicious, but now I'm hammered and also I think I'm going to Hell for drinking Smurf blood."
Dylan dropped her forehead against her damp, updrawn knee and simply laughed and laughed. That was just...so Francesca.
"I noticed her charging up here and ran after her," Pauline muttered. "I was going to stop her until she said you were getting married like, tonight."
"Yeah!" Cesca stood up and somehow managed to trip over the stool again. She pointed at it dramatically. Unfortunately, since her eyes were still closed, she missed the stool completely, instead pointing in the general vicinity of the copper pitcher Dylan had been given to rinse out the shampoo and conditioner from her hair. "That thing has a pact with Satan to destroy me! Anyway, why are you getting married? What about Simone and Gardenia? And are you guys eloping? I thought you couldn't because of Prince Sexy Dragon Stud."
"Wait, what?" Pauline asked.
Dylan sighed. Well, she'd been almost done with her bath anyway. What the heck? She definitely needed the help.
"Turns out, no, actually, the bargain doesn't stand in the way. We're good. And I'm tired of waiting. I want...I deserve nice things. Good things."
Checking to make sure that her sisters' eyes were still closed, she hoisted herself out of the tub with a helping hand from Grainne, Fionnlagh's partner. She'd been clean already; she'd just been soaking the stiffness out of her knee so that getting ready would be just a little less difficult. And, she thought to herself, she'd need a full dose of Vicodin before the ceremony. That would give it time to kick in before their wedding night.
Thoughts of wedding nights lit her face on fire, so she quickly shoved those thoughts aside. Knowing her sister, Cesca could see every dream and fantasy and stray thought Dylan had ever had about Nuada stamped on her face in Day-Glo orange paint.
Grabbing a towel, Dylan wrapped herself in it and sat at her vanity.
"So much bad has happened. So much stress and pain and, and grief! I just want to take this one good thing for myself before something else happens. I...I deserve to be happy. And you can open your eyes now."
"Awww," Cesca murmured, hands clasped over her heart. "You do deserve to be happy, sweets. You deserve all the nice things! Like jewelry and kittens and fast internet and good sex. Oh, and pie!"
Dylan studied her sister for a long moment, then said with the utmost gravity, "You really, truly get me, Cesca."
Francesca beamed.
Pauline grinned and rolled her eyes. "You are so drunk." Then the smile slipped away as her gaze landed on Dylan. Francesca noted her older sister's expression and frowned. Dylan met Pauline's suddenly glistening gaze.
"Pauline? What's wrong?"
She swallowed. "Where did all those come from?" She moved to her little sister's side and laid a careful hand on her shoulder. Dylan's skin showed above her soft, black towel. So did several scars - the mounded scar bigger than Dylan's fist that lay over her heart, smudges from old gunshot wounds, the rougarou claw marks on one arm, the ugly violet circle of a gancanaugh bite scar at her nape, various healed nicks and cuts. Francesca had seen a lot of these marks, but Pauline had only ever seen the slashes on Dylan's face.
Dylan dropped her cheek to Pauline's hand. "It's just...my life. Don't freak. This is actually the safest Ive been since I was a baby."
"How? How is this, any of this, with the bandits and-"
"Guards," Dylan explained gently. "My dogs. Nuada. I took a lot of damage in my twenties, especially early on. I got into a lot of...stuff. But I'm protected now."
Pauline bit her lip. "All those times you got hurt...we thought you were hurting yourself. But it was monsters attacking you?"
"Usually, yeah. Don't sweat it. Things are much better now. I promise. Come on, help me get ready."
The tension seeped out of Pauline, and she and Francesca moved to either side of Dylan, each draping an arm around her.
Cesca gave her a squeeze. "Evening makeup, definitely, but the hair...it has to be something sexy and elegant, but not complicated. He'll want to get his fingers all up in that when you guys are banging like a screen door in a hurric-"
Scarlet flooded Dylan's face. "Oh, my gosh, Cesca!"
"Dont worry about it, sweets. Nuada knows what he's doing. He's old as dirt and wants to show you a good time. And with...what was it? Centuries of experience? He won't need a map in order to find your cl-''
"Holy crow, please stop! I can't think about that right now, I just...I can't-"
"Lovers' Knot," Francesca said inanely, and grabbed a comb. "Pauline, you're on pins. Gently removing pins from long hair is totes sexy, Dylan. Trust me. And of course, remember - and Nuada needs to remember - foreplay gets you more play."
"Um. Okay." Had...had her sister actually gone and given Nuada this talk? No, that was ridiculous. Cesca would never-
"And then I'll help you put on that nice outfit you set out. Good choice on the skirt instead of pants, by the way. Easier to take off without Prince Sex Machine tearing them."
Dylan closed her eyes as her sister worked on her hair. "Why are you like this?"
"Your chastity vexes me."
"What?!"
Francesca sectioned a piece of Dylan's hair into smaller strands.
"I'm kidding. It's just reeeaaally frustrating, watching the pair of you eye-screw each other every time you lock gazes. It's physically painful to watch and makes me want to cry while taking a cold shower and listening to angsty country songs."
She began working the comb through Dylan's curls.
"We do not...do that with our eyes-"
"Yes, you do," Pauline interrupted. "But it's depressed, anguished eyeball screwing. Like one or both of you is going to die in battle the next morning and it's your final farewell."
Dylan sputtered. "That's not…I don't think about sex every time I see Nuada. Yeah, sometimes he's just standing there, looking absolutely perfect and I might have a hot flash or two, but other times I'm just admiring his…aesthetic."
"So, like…his abs. And biceps. Pin." Francesca held out her hand to Pauline, who handed her a hairpin. "Dylan, you're not ace. I mean, you might be demi, so then you'd be on the ace spectrum, but just from talks we've had, I know what you're thinking when you stare at Nuada with his sleeves rolled up and his hair pulled back. Your eyes get all big and your jaw hits the floor. I mean, I get it; the man is an Adonis. And I've seen you biting your lip when he takes his shirt off because he's about to get super sweaty."
The mortal woman's eyes were round as saucers when she squeaked, "I…I do that? I didn't know I did that."
Francesca grinned and hugged her. "You are so cute." She moved on to another section of hair. "And oh, yeah, you totally do that. If I threw a pork chop between you two, by the time it hit the plate, it'd be charcoal. Stop staring at me, you know that made sense."
"Um…I…kind of?"
"She's right," Pauline said. "Every time you two look at each other…there's so much love and longing and sadness and need between you. It's really romantic."
"Like Pauline said," Francesca quipped, "depressed, anguished eyeball screwing. Good thing you two are finally getting hitched, you can put the poor bastard out of his emo bear misery."
"Cesca!"
"What? He's totally an emo bear!"
"You're an emo bear," Dylan mumbled, fighting a smile.
"Your face is an emo bear-"
"Girls, girls," Pauline interrupted. "You're both pretty. And emo and ursine. Now enough bickering, you can all be emo bears together. Nuada can be Goldilocks. Goldilocks and the Three Emo Bears. Er…two emo bears. Whatever. Now hurry up, Cesca. Tick-tock. Can't keep Prince Tinkerbell waiting."
"Oh, my gosh, Pauline!" But despite the flush to her cheeks, Dylan had a wonderful feeling about tonight.
.
.
.
Author's Note: I posted this to Pat. Re. On. in December and thought I posted it here but I didn't, I'm sorry! Here it is!