Unlike Tobias, Trevor has the decency to look at my face when he speaks.

I tell him it’s all right even though I’m not sure it is. Never making time for someone with whom you wish to start a relationship doesn’t bode well for the future.

I’d appreciate a husband who wants to spend at least a little time with me.

Then again, perhaps this is what marriage is like in the city. Take my aunt and uncle, for instance. Uncle Arlo rarely arrives home from the counting house until well after dinner and yet my aunt seems happy, baking away to her heart’s content.

Perhaps I was spoiled by my parents’ relationship and should lower my expectations.

Have low expectations ever begotten true happiness?

Do I really want to settle when there’s someone out there for whom my blood sings?

The closer we get to the square, the more packed the streets become. People must’ve travelled from miles around to attend tonight’s festival.

Maypoles have been erected around the fountain, with ribbons fluttering and flowers spilling from pots affixed to the tops. Children race toward the poles, fighting for their favorite colors. I remember doing the same when I was smaller, before the families with children moved off the mountain. Theo would never participate, even when I begged.

A few people we pass comment on the stunning silver bloom behind my ear, their gazes bouncing between Trevor and me, rife with curiosity. More than once, I hear them whisper about the prince, but I ignore them all.

With whom I choose to spend my time is none of their business.

Trevor and I meander through the vendors selling pies, buns, cakes, and biscuits of all flavors. We find Nia at one of the stalls, helping her mother arrange pies. When she sees us, she skips to my side, our argument from last week finally forgotten.

“Will we go for drinks?” she asks, bonfire light sparkling in her eyes.

It’s one of the first times since our fight that she has looked at me without animosity. How I’ve missed her smile. The three of us head over to where the line meanders in front of the temple. To my eternal delight, Ivee arrives a moment later in a flurry of lacy pink skirts.

For once, she doesn’t glare or glower at us, which immediately makes me suspicious. “Did you hear the news?” she gasps, her cheeks as pink as her gown.

Nia manages to control her scowl as the three of us shake our heads.

Ivee leans closer. “William told Shiela that the Unseelie didn’t come to the well today.”

Why is Nia looking at me like that? This is hardly my fault.

They’re probably still hunting. Or maybe something went wrong. I hope Ever is all right. If there weren’t so many people, I’d venture to the bridge to find out myself.