I looked over at him; his curly hair whipped in the wind. “Was what?” I shuddered against the chill.

But Eliot shook his head. “It just makes things… complicated.”

I blinked. And then I laughed. “Eliot Gray, you make things complicated.”

“How do I know he can defend you if his frostbitten feelings are muddled?”

“Eliot, you’re not my Patrolman anymore. Even when you were, you were awful at it,” I said. “Somewhere in the Midnight Forest, Mara Rouge is still laughing about that,” I added with a mutter.

Eliot’s shoulders tightened, but he sighed. “I’m trying to figure out what’s happening to you. You lost your wits right in the middle of a feast. Maybe your energy spent pining after him is why.”

I could have slapped him.

“Well, Eliot, right now me losing my wits has nothing to do with why I want to kick you off this sleigh.”

His laugh surprised me. “Ragnashuck, let’s forget it. I know things are scotchy but try to have a pinch of fun tonight. It is a wedding, after all.”

A wedding.

Like the wedding he would have attended when he was going to let me marry Quinten.

They turned me.

Digging in your heels to resist Nightflesh will only break your legs.

I looked ahead, spotting a canopy of branches sprouting bouquets of feathers above a long table with carved trays of antique cutlery.

I felt the queen’s cold eyes on us as Eliot led me through the clearing for the dance. When the flutes and drums started, we tip toed through the snow and Eliot turned me where I needed to go. Others joined in, and to my relief, the spectacle of the Emissary and his wife was lost to the multitude of swaying couples.

I found myself scanning the treeline for a boy with electric eyes. I spotted Zane making small talk with some guests while stuffing his face with gingerbread snaps and icing.

Eliot huffed, and I realized he’d danced us to the edge of the floor where Zane was announcing how he once took down a gruesome snowsquatch just outside this kingdom.

“If you want to dance with Cohen, you have my merry blessing.” Eliot passed me off in Zane’s direction, and I raised a brow. “It’s not like I’m really your husband, Helen.” He cast me a flat smile and slipped into the crowd of guests.

I looked at the people gathering to listen to Zane’s tall tale, and I shook my head in disbelief. “Save some of that gloriousness for a dance,” I suggested, and he stopped talking. He licked the icing off his lips and felt for the table, ditching his plate, a smirk forming.