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Grandmother moves to the couch and pats it. “My couch has sentimental value. Go ahead and put it on the wagon. I don’t care if it doesn’t fit in with the decor. I won’t see it either way, and it’s mine, so I’m taking it.”
Grandmother’s bossing the fae around like she’s royalty. They actually skitter away from her. It’s…unbelievable. People who wouldn’t even spit on her before are rushing around to follow her orders.
She points at one fae, who was whispering to another one, and the tall man widens his eyes in shock as she does so. “Don’t think that because I can’t see you, I don’t know where you are. My hearing’s intact. You don’t move in silence. My couch, ugly as it may be, is coming with me.”
“Of course, my lady,” he says, bowing and gesturing for another fae to grab the other side of the couch.
Seriously… what the hell is going on?
“Grandmother?” I approach her, reaching out to let her know I’m close by.
“Cassia!” She sweeps me in a hug that’s so tight it steals my breath.
“Is everything okay?”
She laughs, squeezing me again before releasing me. “Of course. But why didn’t you wake us up last night when you came home to let us know what happened? I know I fuss at you and your dad about my beauty sleep, but becoming the bride to four fae princes is a damn good reason to interrupt it.”
I open my mouth and close it. Okay, logic told me the fae were here because my family knew what happened, but it’s like I couldn’t process it until she said it aloud.I’m officially fucked.
No, I can come up with an excuse. I can say something to stop this.
She’s smiling brighter than I’ve seen in a long time, and it’s enough to make me stop and think before I keep talking. I don’t know what I planned to tell them, but I certainly planned to make my reservations clear. Now though, with her so happy, what am I supposed to say?
“Last night was just.. a lot,” I say, unsure of how else to phrase it.
I haven’t processed it all the way myself. There’s this part of me that still thinks there’s a world in which I can just marry Prince Sulien and just be his wife in name only. Where my grandmother and father could still have a really wonderful life, and I didn’t have to lose every piece of myself. But it feels like every moment that passes, my chances of that are growing slimmer.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply through my nose. There’s no point in focusing on that right now. I have to let her be excited, because in life there are so few good moments and so many crappy ones. I can’t take this away from her when she’s already had so much taken away in her long life.
“Was the ball as beautiful as they say?” she asks, and I notice the other fae listening.
“It was. It was just… a lot.”
She laughs. “You keep saying that.”
“I can’t think of a better way to describe it… all the food and drinks. All the beautiful women and men…” There. That wasn’t a lie, and it doesn’t give away my terror about everything either.
“There was also a lot of matching witha lotof men,” Grandmother retorts, laughing to herself. “What are you going to do with four princes? You only knew Prince Sulien as a child, and you don’t know the others at all.”
My thoughts exactly. The other princes could be awful. Is Prince Zane as cold as the rest of the Winter Fae? Will Prince Cobar bring other women into our bed like the other Spring Fae? And is Prince Forrest as rough and cruel as the rest of the Fall Fae?
I swallow around the lump in my throat.None of that matters if I don’t have to marry them. If I find a way out of this.
“Cassia?”
Realizing I hadn’t answered, I scramble for something to say. “We’re… matched with each other, so I guess we’re meant to be, and it’ll all work itself out.” Except, we’re not, and it won’t.
Grandmother shakes her head. “That fae tradition of being matched on the solstice is so odd to me. I mean, we humans get to meet someone, fall in love, and choose to marry.”
Yes, we do.Imight have. I’d never really thought about actually meeting a man, falling in love, and marrying him, but I guess now that will never happen. Never. Because I’ve accepted this fake marriage.
For the first time, that actually feels like a loss.
“That does sound lovely,” I say, and I swear I feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes.
Grandmother tilts her head to the side. “We also end up living in the worst parts of the city with the worst jobs. Maybe love’s overrated.” She shrugs.
“Maybe it is,” but the words feel false.
