His mouth snapped shut. “Why are you telling me this?” he said, his face pale and the scent of green leaves almost an assault. “I’m getting married in two days!”

I put my hands on my hips. “What does your getting married have to do with anything?” I said, not surprised he would consider himself first and foremost. “She’s not a broodmare, she’s a woman with her own agenda. And as much as it might surprise you…” I poked a finger at his chest. “…it doesn’t include the great and desirable Trent Kalamack. She wants to meet you and give you whatever sample you need. That’s it.”

Emotions crossed his features too fast to be recognized. Then the wall came down, and I shivered at the icy control. Saying nothing, he turned on a heel and walked away.

I stared at him, blinking. “Hey, does that mean you aren’t coming?”

Moving stiffly, he crossed the room to talk to his parents-in-law-to-be, clearly trying to escape.

A prickling at the back of my neck pulled my attention to Quen. His eyebrows were high in question, and I looked away before he decided to come over. Arms clasped about myself, I headed for a back table where I could sit out the rest of the evening. Jenks landed on my earring in a gliding slide of gold sparkles, his almost nonexistent weight comforting and familiar. “You told him about Ceri?” he asked.

I nodded as the music ended, the singer’s voice rising beautiful and alone.

Jenks’s wings fanned my neck. “What did he say?”

Sighing, I sat down and started fiddling with the sugar packets. “Nothing.”

TWENTY-FOUR

My feet hurt, and as I walked the last few blocks from the bus stop to my church, I paused to lean against a maple to take my flats off. A car whizzed by going way too fast, and I scowled at it, listening to the brakes squeal as it turned the corner. Jenks yelped in surprise from my shoulder when I bent at the waist to remove my shoes, darting off in a clatter of wings.

“Hey!” he snapped, the pixy dust sifting from him. “How about some warning, witch!”

I glanced up. “Sorry,” I said wearily. “You were so quiet I forgot you were there.”

His wing noise dulled, and he returned to my shoulder. “That’s because I was asleep,” he admitted.

My shoes hooked over two fingers, I straightened. The party had broken up early so all good elves could get home for their midnight siesta. Pixies kept to the same clock—sleeping four hours around midnight and four again at noon. No wonder Jenks was tired.