Oh, really? I thought, watching Trent help Ellasbeth down the wide stairs, a hand under her elbow as she continued to warble about home and family, and how she had been an idiot.

Idiot. Sure. My thoughts drifted back to her standing at the basilica’s altar, furious at me for ruining her wedding day as I handcuffed Trent for suspicion of murder. I’d ruined her day.

Ray perked up at the sound of Jenks’s wings, and she watched with sleepy eyes as he dropped down to me. “Tink’s little pink rosebuds, you two are like dogs snarling,” he said, and I scowled, looking at the top of the stairway.

“I didn’t hit her, did I?”

He laughed, but I still felt ill. If Ellasbeth was going to be in Trent’s life, I’d probably better start kissing ass if I ever wanted to see the girls again.

Jenks landed on my shoulder as I went to help Quen up the two shallow stairs. I was still wondering about that finger motion. “Is he seriously considering . . . that?” the pixy whispered as Ellasbeth’s voice rose from the great room.

“Looks like it,” I breathed. “If you ask me, she’s nothing but bad news. But they look good together.”

Quen grunted as he got to his feet, unbalanced from Ray and his injuries that he wouldn’t tell me about. Shaking off my offer for assistance, he headed for the nursery, his left leg sluggish on the two stairs.

“Is that what you see?” Jenks said, jerking me back to my last comment. “That they look good together?”

I tried to eye him, but he was too close. “You don’t think they do?”

Pushing open the nursery door with his foot, Quen shook his head. “The joining of the two houses would do a lot in bringing the two factions of our society together. I’m glad someone finally talked some sense into that woman.”

He seemed genuinely pleased, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Ceri, Ray, and Quen if Ellasbeth entered the family.

“Good thing the man likes frustrating women,” Jenks said, and I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear to shove him off my shoulder. I could still hear Ellasbeth’s tearful protests bracketed by Trent’s musical voice. The farther they got from us, the more hysterical she was getting, and her voicing her doubts wasn’t helping.

“She is wearing your ring, Trenton!” echoed, and then the door slammed shut.

We only had days, and despite Trent’s confident words, I didn’t have a plan; I had a goal whose solution revolved around a book I hadn’t seen yet.