There is odd music coming from the reception hall, the same fiddle tune from the queen’s tea party.
From the top of the stairs, I take in the gilded room. It’s filled with dozens and dozens of Others, clad in a pastel rainbow of colors. The women’s gowns have bell sleeves so long they graze the floor, and the men are in vibrantly embroidered coats, just the same as Bram’s. Some wear scarves of odd objects, forks and fishing netsand flour sacks embroidered with golden thread.
They’re laughing and dancing to the reel like this is all one big celebration. I’m astonished by how inhuman they look. Seeing them all together as a group, it is easier to register the overlong limbs, the eerily perfect faces, the pointed ears. I can’t believe I ever thought Bram could pass as one of us.
And then I realize. It is done. He’s opened the door between our worlds.
There’s blood on the floor, like someone has spilled a bucketful, but I can’t identify the source.
Bram is standing near the front of the room, a golden goblet in his hand, surrounded by fawning courtiers. He’s got a crown of emerald vines on his head and a matching earring dangling from one ear.
He spots me, and a wide smile spreads across his face. He raises his cup to me. “My bride!”
The fae courtiers raise their glasses with sharp, hungry smiles.
Bram bounds up the stairs and takes my arm. “Come, wife. I have so many new friends for you to meet. Let us begin.”
