Page 4 of The Brightest Fell

“Not all of us,” I said, nodding toward Dianda.

The Duchess of Saltmist was staring at the Luidaeg, hands clasped so tightly around her beer bottle that I was worried about her crushing it and getting broken glass everywhere. The Luidaeg used to spend most of her time in the Undersea, which only makes sense for someone whose most frequently used title is “sea witch.” She stopped after the slaughter of the Roane—better known as her children and grandchildren. So far as I know, she’s lived on the land ever since.

This might have been the closest Dianda had ever been to the Undersea’s most powerful, most legendary Firstborn. She was looking at the Luidaeg the way I would have expected her to look at Oberon himself, if he’d still been around to be seen.

May sighed. “She needs to take a deep breath and remember that you and the Luidaeg are friends.” A fresh cocktail appeared by her elbow. This one was as green as Danny’s was pink, and garnished with several wedges of fresh kiwi.

I eyed it. “I’m not sure what’s more disturbing. This party or that drink.”

“Both. Neither. Everything.” May grinned. “You’re having fun, October. Just relax and let yourself enjoy it. You never go out and just have fun anymore, and I’ll be damned before I let you march off to your own wedding like it was your execution.”

“I’ve been sentenced to death before, and I assure you, nothing I do with Tybalt is nearly as unpleasant,” I said.

Danny laughed. “I don’t wanna know what you and the kitty-cat get up to when I’m not around,” he said. “That’s the sort of thing that should be between two consentin’ adults, and not their designated driver.”

“I don’t need a designated driver,” I protested. “My body burns alcohol so fast I can’t even stay drunk for more than five minutes at a time. And the house is barely more than a mile away.”

“Don’t care,” said Danny. “I have a taxi for a reason. Driving the bride-to-be around is part of it.”

I considered pointing out the ridiculousness of a man who’d consumed six pink cocktails claiming to be my designated driver, and decided against it. Danny probably weighs upward of six hundred pounds, and most of his body is made up of something close to, if not identical to, granite. I’m not sure he can get drunk. I’m absolutely sure that if he can, he wasn’t going to manage it on less than several gallons of straight whiskey. He was still perfectly safe behind the wheel.

Instead, I said, “I’d prefer it if you’d drive the bride’s drunk friends home.”

Danny grinned. “That’s a compromise I can live with.”

The Luidaeg finished her song. Everyone clapped. If the applause from the other members of our party was a little more enthusiastic than her performance warranted, well, who could blame them? Failure to properly appreciate one of the Firstborn was probably bad for silly things like “continuing to have a pulse.”

The DJ called a name. An actual stranger this time, someone whose song choice wasn’t going to make me choke on my drink or otherwise lose my composure. I took advantage of the break to turn and smile wryly at May.

“All right, you got me,” I said. “You were right, and I was wrong: I am having a good time. This is a good party. I bow before your infinite wisdom.”

May preened. “I told you you’d have a good time if you’d let yourself. Everyone else is having fun, too.”

She was right about that. Walther and Marcia were carrying their song selections to the front, while Bridget—possibly the only person here aside from me and Quentin who wasn’t over-awed by the Luidaeg—was congratulating the Luidaeg on her performance. Arden was laughing so hard that she looked like she was going to hurt herself, while Madden grinned and took a drink of his own beer.

So many of my friends and allies were here. So many people who trusted me, and who I trusted to have my back, no matter what. It was an odd thing to realize that I was outside my house and utterly relaxed, but I was. Maybe for the first time in a year, I felt like I could drop my guard and just exist.

The stranger finished his song. Stacy jumped up onto the stage without waiting for the DJ to say anything, grabbing the microphone.

“We’re here tonight because our friend Toby is getting married!” she shouted. The bar cheered, even the parts of it who weren’t with us.

I groaned. “Oh, sweet Titania, no.”

“Yes,” said May, taking my beer away.

“Yup,” agreed Quentin, and pushed me off my stool.

Kerry and Cassandra were suddenly there to grab me by my wrists and haul me to the stage, where Stacy had produced a headband that looked like a cross between a bridal veil and one of those ridiculous “fairy crowns” hippies like to sell at open-air farmer’s markets. They pushed me up the stairs. She plopped it onto my head and shoved the microphone into my hands, turning me to face the karaoke screen as the lyrics for “White Wedding” began to appear.

“I am going to kill you all,” I said, and lifted the microphone, and sang.

My life’s not so bad these days.

TWO

THE MINT STOPPED SERVING alcohol at two; the karaoke DJ left at two-thirty; thanks to some reservation magic on May and Stacy’s part, they didn’t kick us out until three, by which time everyone was well on their way to sober, or at least competent to get home without passing out on somebody’s front step.

We thronged on the sidewalk, hugging, laughing, and saying good-bye one by one, like we wanted to make the party last as long as possible. I realized, with some surprise, that I was doing just that: I didn’t want the night to end. For once, nothing was trying to kill me or complicate my life. I didn’t have any quests to finish or problems to resolve. I got to exist, with no qualifiers. It was nice. I wanted it to continue.