The Iron Knight (The Iron Fey #4)

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Human weddings have nothing on fey weddings, at least not the ones I’ve seen over the years. I wore the black-andsilver uniform of a Winter prince, as I had when I first saw Meghan at Elysium, so long ago. Though I was no longer part of the Unseelie Court, I wanted everyone to remember that I was still Ash, that I still belonged here, in the Nevernever. Mab and the Winter Court stood behind me, and I could feel their chil against my back, the frost coating the f lowers around me. On the opposite side, Oberon, Titania and the Summer Court loomed tall and proud, glaring at Winter over the aisle separating them. And surrounding us all, the Iron fey, the third court of Faery, looked on. Gremlins and wood nymphs scampered through the grass and the trees, snarling and hissing at each other. Iron knights, their armor polished to a blinding metal ic sheen, stood at attention down the aisle, opposite the sidhe knights of the Summer and Winter courts, awaiting the procession. For a moment, I marveled at the im-possibility of it all; not long ago, the Iron fey were the deadliest threat the Nevernever had seen, and no one would tolerate them to live, much less share space within the wyldwood. But gazing around at the gathered faces of Summer, Winter and Iron, I felt a f licker of hope. It had taken a determined, halfhuman Summer princess and an ancient prophecy to mend the rift between the three courts, but she had done it. It would be hard, and it would take a lot of work, but maybe we could live in peace with each other, after all.

Movement in the crowd caught my attention. Directly opposite of me, on the Seelie side, a familiar redhead poked his head from the crowd and saluted, giving me a devilish grin. I suppressed a wince. Puck and I hadn’t spoken much since the wedding announcement, and though he’d never show it, I suspected this day was going to be hard for him. I also had the sneaking suspicion that the Great Prankster had a few surprises in store for us, and that the after-party was going to get a little wild. I hoped that, whatever happened, the party wouldn’t turn into a riot and then a bloodbath.



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But when the music started, I forgot about all of that. I didn’t think of the crowd and the courts and their endless squabbles. I didn’t see Puck and Mab, Oberon and Titania, or the Iron fey. I didn’t see anyone but her.

Meghan was stunning in her long white gown, bright gray embroidery scattered about like stars, catching the light. Her hair had been pinned up beneath the veil, with a few wispy, silver-blond strands hanging down to brush her bare shoulders. A satin train Bill owed behind her, a rippling river of white, carried over the grass by a trio of packrats. Her adoptive human father, Paul, stood beside her, his young-old face beaming with pride and a little fear. As the trumpets blared and the knights raised their swords, the faeries around us howled, raising their voices in a joyful cacophony, the tumult echoing over the trees and making the air shiver. As my brideto-be drew closer, our eyes met through the veil, and I nearly stopped breathing. This was it. This was really happening.

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as she reached the front, taking her place at my side. Meghan smiled back, and for a moment, we just stood there, lost in each other’s gaze. The howling fey, the stares of Summer, Winter and Iron, the blaring trumpets, all that faded away until it was just me and Meghan and nothing else.

Then Grimalkin leaped onto the old stump between us and sighed.

“I still do not see the point of my presiding over this ridiculous spec-tacle, but very well.” The cait sith yawned and sat down. “Of all the favors I have granted, this is by far the most tiresome. Shal we get it over with then?” Grimalkin sat up straighter and raised his voice, somehow being heard over the crowd. “We are gathered today,” he began in a lofty tone, “to witness the joining of these two in the completely 299/387

useless, ostentatious ceremony of marriage. For reasons beyond me, they have decided to make their love official, and—”

“Grimalkin.” Meghan sighed, though she wore a faint, exasperated smile. “Just this once, could you please not be an ass?” The cat twitched an ear. I could sense he was secretly amused. “I make no promises, Iron Queen.” He sniffed, and looked at me. “You have your own vows, then?”

We both nodded.

“Thank the heavens.” Under Meghan’s glare, he blinked and nodded sagely. “Very well. Let us get on with it. You may proceed when ready, prince.”