When she turned into him to hide her face so that they wouldn’t see her silent laughter, Tate shrugged.
“The one gaping at me like he’s seen a ghost.”
Tannar’s family must have understood the message — the longer they wasted, the more they would have to hear the commentary from hersupport. The officiant climbed the steps, standing before the marble plinth holding the remnant of the cord that had bound their hands.
Tate ducked his head before she was forced to step away. “He’s probably gawking at the blood. It appears you’ve been bitten. Remember, dove.Theydon’t matter.”
***
They flew home immediately after the ceremony. Silva paused long enough to sign the document, not sparing anyone a backward glance on her way out the door, still gripping Tate’s hand in hers.
All in all, Silva considered, it could’ve been worse. All they needed to do was pick up Aelin from her parents’ house and put this day to bed.
Tate had already met her father.
Her mother had invited them to dinner on neutral ground, meeting at one of Cambric Creek’s finer establishments, while Dynah babysat Aelin for the evening.
Her father’s jaw had been clenched, his hand in a fist at the edge of the table . . . until Tate had produced his own version of a wedding barter, informal at that point, and not technically something he even needed to give her parents. That wasn’t the way Elvish marriages were negotiated, but he understood the position she was in.
Her parents were wrong, but they were acting in love. Silva understood. She was chagrined to realize, as an adult, just how specist her upbringing had truly been, something she was working on in therapy.
Like her mother, she knew her father would have never been pleased. But it was too late — Aelin already existed, was loved and adored. Tate providing a record of the businesses he owned, the properties in his name, both in Greenbridge Glen and across the sea, a stock portfolio, proof of savings, all added up, and she knew her father was mollified.
“Tell him what you did,” she encouraged that night, rolling her eyes.
Her parents would never be happy, but when her father learned that Tate had bought a house out from under JackHemming, he threw his head back and roared with laughter, continuing to chuckle throughout the night.
When the subject of her unbinding was brought up, they found new common ground, berating Tannar together.
Tate was the one to relay how appallingly gauche the ceremony had been as they picked up Aelin, how disrespectful, howtacky.
Her parents would never be happy, but her father had never had the opportunity to agree with someone more.
They were back in their bed, curled around their little girl by dinnertime, watching an animated movie about a swan who was secretly a princess. Aelin was tucked to Silva’s chest, Tate curled around her back, playing with Silva’s hair.
“If I barter for your hand, Silva of Cleghorn Crook, would you say yes?”
She looked up at the unexpected question, tears instantly forming.
“Yes. I would say yes.”
Aelin giggled at the movie when his head bent, his lips meeting Silva’s upturned face.
Are you family? Of course, we are.
***
“Mommy! Something’s going to eat you!”
Silva paused at the bottom of the staircase, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin.
“Tell her it’s going to eat her eyes first,” she could hear Tate whispering to Aelin.
“Mommy! It’s going to . . .ew! No, it’s not!”
Silva laughed, hearing Tate chuckle at the top of the steps. A moment later, his footfalls on the wooden staircase leading into the cellar.
“I told you I was only going to be a minute,” she chastised, popping open the cat food tin. Cat food, a bowl of water, and a sleeve of crackers. She had no idea if the boggart in the basement had kept its word to her, not that it ever given it to begin with, but Silva liked to imagine that it had. He had found his way home to her. The least she could do was bring a tin of cat food to the basement every time they were here.
