The ceremony itself was an involved thing that took a few hours, tradition twining Gerard and Órlaith together in their own sort of legend. Gerard only had eyes for his bride throughout the entire ceremony, and Órlaith never looked away once. It was sickeningly sweet, and Wade was happy for them, but he was even happier when it was over and they were married, and the entire party left the living hall for the palace gardens and the endless mounds of food waiting for the guests there.
“Wade—” Jono said.
“Be right back,” Wade said before swiftly cutting through the crowd with one goal in mind.
He’d leave the mingling to the rest of the pack. Wade was far more interested in the epic food options on display for the guests to eat. The long tables in the many gardens set aside for the food were piled high with roasted game, grilled vegetables, salads of all sorts, an entire table filled with bread from savory to sweet, another table dedicated to potato dishes of all kinds, and a completely separate garden reserved for all the many desserts on offer.
Wade took a moment to stand there in pure bliss before getting in line and grabbing a thin wooden plate off the stack at one end of the feast table. Apparently, the fae were all about getting your own food on your own time and partying it up in the gardens with all the guests who’d been invited. None of the typical sit down at a fancy table and be restricted by courses trend that always left Wade hungry.
The celebration was supposed to last for a week, but Wade and the pack were definitely not staying that long. So he was going to make the most of the food while he had the chance. That meant making a mini mountain on his plate from just the first table alone. Pleased with his efforts, Wade grabbed a fork and made his way back to the others, shoveling food into his mouth as he went.
Sage was the first one to spot him, a resigned expression crossing her face. “Why am I not surprised?”
“They said it was safe to eat,” Wade protested around a mouthful of food.
“Chew with your mouth shut,” Patrick said, gently knocking a fist against his shoulder.
Wade eyed Patrick’s suit, noticing the shiny jewels sewn into the lapels and cuffs of his jacket and the edge of his vest. The dark green fabric almost matched his eyes, while the gold broach he wore looked more like a medal than an adornment for a wedding. The other three Hellions nearby seemed to have thesame sort of jewels on them, while the fae who had stood with Gerard did not.
Patrick caught the direction of his gaze and tapped at the intricate gold brooch. “It’s a gift from Gerard to us mundane human groomsmen. No, you can’t have it.”
Wade stabbed at a piece of meat on his plate that tasted like chicken and bacon roasted together and took a bite. “It’s shiny.”
Patrick reached out and snagged one of the long slices of bread smeared with something that maybe tasted like onion on it. He shoved it in his mouth before Wade could properly protest. “Oh, that’s good.”
“This is my plate,” Wade grumbled. “Go get your own.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
Patrick grabbed Jono by the hand and dragged him off toward the nearest garden dishing out food. Keith did a double take from where he stood some yards away before hurrying over. “Where’d Razzle Dazzle go?”
“To get some food before Wade eats it all,” Sage said, heading in the same direction.
Wade was left behind, but he didn’t mind so much, content to plow his way through his first plate and watch everyone around him enjoy the wedding celebration. Everyone was discussing the nuptials and Órlaith’s gown and Gerard’s formal return and a bunch of other details that had no bearing on him or his pack. Honestly, it sounded boring.
He finished his first plate and wandered into a different garden that was saturated in a floral scent from all the flowers blooming around the next food table he was going to try. Most of the dishes on this one seemed to be full of pots with stews and soups and baskets of thick bread in all kinds of shapes and flavors. Wade spent a good hour sampling every single pot on the table, one small bowl at a time.
He took a break after that, wandering off to watch some of the performers and drink some of the mead on offer at various refreshment stations. It was sweet and thick on his tongue, and he wondered if they’d let him take a bottle or two back home with him. It wasn’t as good as Thor’s in Chicago, but he’d take what he could get.
By the time he decided he wanted something sweet, the dessert table in a different garden filled with topiary was pretty packed, but there was a spot of space around a dark-haired fae that would give him a perfect opportunity to grab some cake. Wade snagged a plate, sidestepped around some chatting fae who clearly could’ve caught up somewhere else, and planted himself firmly in front of a platter that held one last slice of something that smelled like it was baked with honey and hazelnut.
Wade slid the last slice onto his plate with his fork and was contemplating something else to go with it when the dark-haired fae made a displeased sound from his left. “That slice was mine.”
Wade glanced at the fae, eyes narrowing as he took in the dark purple clothing, silver adornments in the sunset-orange hair, and pale yellow eyes staring at him like he was a bug. He sniffed delicately, getting a whiff of the fae’s scent, and wrinkled his nose. “Oh, you’re from the Unseelie Court.”
The fae looked absolutely affronted at that. “I amnot.”
“Sure.” Wade reached for the nearest serving spoon and dumped a scoop of what might have been a parfait onto his plate. “I didn’t think Gerard had invited any of you.”
The fae stepped close enough to be a threat, but Wade knew better than to give ground. He merely raised an eyebrow and reached for a different serving spoon, never breaking eye contact, and scooped another dessert on his plate.
A muscle in the fae’s too-beautiful face twitched. “Mortals aren’t welcome here.”
“I have a fancy invitation that says I am.”
He didn’t bother telling the fae they were wrong about him being mortal.Technically, dragons weren’t immortal, but their long lives made it seem that way to mundane humans who lived only a fraction of the time they did. It was something he was working through with his therapist, the knowledge that he’d outlive his pack and their future generations. But the fae didn’t need to know that.
“I believe the mortal came as Lord Cú Chulainn’spersonalguest, Lord Diarmait,” someone said with a surprising hint of a Boston accent to their voice.
