Quen was headed for Trent’s door, but before he could get there, Trent had opened it himself. Blinking in the strong afternoon sun, he gazed at the sky, his eyes moving as he traced the lines of the front tower outlined against it. His jeans fit him nicely, properly faded and hitting his boots just right. A silk shirt of a deep green that matched Ellasbeth’s ribbons gave him some flash, going well with his tan and fair hair. He looked good, but not happy.

Seeing the five elves together, I wondered at the differences. Ellasbeth’s mother had Trent’s same wispy hair, but her father’s was closer to Ellasbeth’s—rougher, almost looking like a poor attempt to match it. Beside them, Quen’s dark features and ebony hair looked like the other side of the coin, but no less elven.

Ellasbeth brought her gaze from the scrollwork above the big doors when Trent and Quen approached. Her gaze lit upon me, and her expression froze. I smiled as she realized we had our hair up in the same way. Her face under her perfect makeup went stiff.

“Hello, Ellasbeth,” I said, having been introduced to her by her first name the night she’d walked in on me soaking in her tub. Long story, but innocent enough.

“Ms. Morgan,” she said, extending a pale hand. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you.” I took her hand in mine, surprised that it was warm. “I’m honored to be in the wedding party. Have you decided which dress yet?”

The woman’s expression went even stiffer behind her shades. “Mother? Father?” she said, not answering me. “This is the woman Trenton arranged to work additional security.”

As if they can’t tell I’m not one of her friends? I thought, taking their hands as they were offered. “Pleasure to meet you,” I said to each of them in turn. “This is Jenks, my partner. He’ll be working the perimeter and communication.”

Jenks’s wings clattered to life, but before he could charm them with his sparkling personality, Ellasbeth’s mother gasped. “He’s real!” she stammered. “I thought he was a decoration on your earring.”

Ellasbeth’s father tensed. “A pixy?” he said, taking a wary step back. “Trent—”

A burst of dust spilled from Jenks to light my shoulder, and I all but snapped, “This is my team. I may be bringing on a vamp if I think it necessary. If you have a complaint, take it up with Trent. My backup can keep his mouth shut about your precious secret identities, but if you show up for the wedding dressed like extras for some ridiculous movie, it won’t be my fault if someone figures it out.”