Epilogue
“Hurry. We’re going to be late!” I love Maddox Finch to the point of madness, but the man is slower than a snail when it comes to getting ready for events. I’m not sure how it’s possible he took longer than me to get ready; he only owns five pairs of trousers.
“I cannot do this,” he groans from his barrel top before stomping out into the bright day.
“You’re not going to a temple without a shirt.”
“Look at these.” He points to the sleeves clinging to his biceps.
Oh, I’m looking. And the view is glorious.
“They are strangling my arms.” He flexes, and the material bunches, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.
“I told you to try it on when we went to Madame Ella’s so that she could make adjustments.” The wedding starts in twenty minutes. There’s barely enough time to make it to the square, let alone to find my husband another bloody shirt.
“Do I have to wear—”
“Yes. Now, come on.”
Maddox trudges to the waiting carriage—something else he loathes. He wanted to ride Dusk into town, but I spent an hour on my hair, and this is a new dress. I don’t want to smell like unicorn sweat.
I poke his firm arm, secretly despising the layer of linen between my skin and his as well. “Stop sulking about the shirt.”
“I am no longer concerned about the shirt. I am afraid my Biscuits will be lonely.”
Poppycock. “Biscuits is surrounded by flowers and bushes. He is far happier in the garden than he would be in town.”
I can think of one way to keep his frown from growing.
I set my handbag aside and climb onto his lap, letting my knees fall to either side of his hips. “What are we going to do about this?” I press my index fingers to the corners of his mouth, forcing his lips into a smile.
Even in the dim light, his dark eyes sparkle. “I can think of one thing.”
“Hmmm . . . Can you? I wonder what that thing could be.”
Maddox climbs out of the carriage like a strutting peacock with its feathers on full display. “I do love carriages. Always have.”
I slip out after him, tucking my hair behind my ear and fixing my skirts so they’re not a disaster. “Liar.”
Chuckling, he takes my hand, leading me down the red carpet stretching across the cobbles.
The sweet scent of roses hangs in the air as we pass beneath the rows of arches in front of the temple.
Maddox ducks through the doorframe and into the packed room just as the string quartet begins playing a beautiful tune.
I am so glad Maddox and I eloped, though it was much to my mother’s chagrin.
Imagine all these people you barely know staring at you. No, thank you. We sit next to Maddox’s friend Gryffin, who must not understand proper wedding attire because he has forgotten a shirt.
Maddox tugs at his starched collar with a wince. “I told you not everyone would be wearing shirts.”
“Gryffin doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not married to him.”
Gryffin’s lips twitch into an almost-smile. Unlike Maddox, this Unseelie doesn’t seem to realize his lips can go up as well as down. “Nice shirt. Does it come in Unseelie sizes as well?”
Maddox elbows him. “I despise you.”
“Another one of your many lies,” Gryff mutters under his breath.
“Have you not heard? I do not lie anymore.”
“Then perhaps you can help me with a problem I have been experiencing. I am quite hungry, you see. Do you know where I can find a goat? I hear their meat is tender and delicious.”
Maddox’s jaw drops. “How dare—”
“Stop it. Both of you. Or else I’m going to sit between you.” Who knew Unseelie men were actually overgrown children? Perhaps that’s a fact Kerris should add to the book she’s been working on. Hopefully, she’ll finish before the baby arrives.
One of Nolan’s fellow guards jogs across the dais to whisper to the priest. “What?” the elderly man in white robes hisses.
Maddox and Gryffin both sit up straighter, the humor falling from their faces. Curse their excellent hearing.
I reach for Maddox’s hand, giving his fingers a squeeze. “What did he say?”
“Something is wrong with the Nolan,” Maddox murmurs under his breath.
The doors open, and Kerris is there, her stomach swollen beneath the pink gown Ivee picked out especially for our queen. The women behind her wear similar attire, their skirts so wide, they look as if they might not fit through the doorway.
Kerris’s gaze meets mine, and she motions for me to join her.
So much for not having people stare. I can feel their eyes on me as I slip from the pew to meet my cousin at the back door. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that Ivee won’t stop sobbing. I’ve tried to calm her down, but nothing is working. Will you try?”
Ivee and I are barely on speaking terms, even now; I highly doubt she’d be willing to confide in me. Still, I’m already back here. Might as well give it a go.
I follow Kerris into a side room to find the bride in an ivory gown with skirts twice the size of everyone else’s. You can barely see the poor woman drowning in tulle.
“Ivee? What’s wrong?”
Tears glitter in her eyes as she raises her splotchy face. Kohl streaks down her cheeks; her lip stain is smeared across her chin. “It’s . . . It’s . . . It’s . . .”
Kerris takes her hand, patting gently. “Breathe. Just breathe. We’re here. Tell us when you’re ready.”
Half of Ivee’s ringlets have fallen from their pins, lying limply against her slumped shoulders as she gulps for air. “It’s . . . Nolan.”
Of course it is.
I told her she deserved better, didn’t I? Why didn’t she rescind her offer before this? Why did she wait until now to change her mind?
I kneel in front of Ivee, taking her free hand. “What about Nolan?”
“He sent me a note.”
Not unheard of. Many grooms give their brides a note or a card before exchanging vows.
From the way she grimaces, I have a sinking feeling this wasn’t a love note. “What was in the note, Ivee?”
Tears roll in silent streams down her rouged cheeks as she blinks at us. “He said he doesn’t want to marry me.”