Mouse wondered if her emotions showed on her face—she was afraid, desperate, and oddly elated all at once.
There were worse ways to start a marriage. It was not a love story as grand as her mother and father’s, but it was something.
He is a Faerie, a voice shouted from somewhere deep in her mind.What does it mean to marry a Faerie? You should be asking yourself these questions, not daydreaming about weddings. What is happening to you?
Mouse jolted, but as soon as the thought occurred to her, it started to fizzle away. She reached for it, trying to hold on, but it was gone, leaving her wondering what had startled her so much.
It was her wedding day, after all.
But that thought felt foreign, as though someone else had dropped it into her mind.
Honeyed light dripped out of John’s cottage windows. The building stood out like a beacon against the ever-darkening woods. Mouse reached for the car door, and the owl driver shrieked. She pulled back. The creature clicked menacingly at her before the door opened of its own accord.
The owl driver turned its gaze back to the road. When it made no move, Mouse sprang out and flew to the garden gate, careful not to touch anything else in the car as she left it, just as Thornwood warned. The gate swung wide, and Smudge was at her ankles, jumping up to paw at her knees before pressing firmly against her shin. The cottage door banged open, revealing John, his expression as dark as a rain cloud.
“Where have you been? I called hours ago from the village, but the operator said no one answered, and Beckett was at the pub, saying you’d done all that work for nothing. How is that possible?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Mouse said and held up her hand when he started to talk over her. “It doesn’t. Thornwood had an idea, and I think it is the only way to save Thistlemarsh from Carlyle.”
John scoffed. “Thornwood? What does he know about anything?”
“Please, John, he is trying to help. I can’t explain now, but I will in time. I promise.” Her voice was breathless. Smudge pressed deeper into her leg, whining. “I came to you because we need an officiant.”
He went still. “An officiant for what?”
“What does anyone need an officiant for?” Mouse said, tugging on her sleeve impatiently. Thornwood told her to be back by eleven thirty. How long did she have left?
“You are marrying him?”
“Obviously, yes.”
“And it hasn’t crossed your mind that it is suspicious he’s here at all? Suddenly appearing within days of your arrival and offering to help you with the house?”
“What are you trying to say?” Mouse asked. Her mind was so fuzzy that it was as though his words were traveling through treacle, and by the time she processed them, they had warped into nonsense. She could not understand him, although she knew he was speaking English.
“He’s a fortune hunter, Mouse. That is clear enough to everyone else.”
Mouse laughed, although it did not really feel like her making the noise. The sound was brittle as glass.
John’s eyes narrowed. “This is no laughing matter. You are not acting like yourself.”
“I told you before: Thornwood is no fortune hunter.”
“How would you know? They can be very charming. Thornwood is exactly the type of danger Bertie told me to look out for—someone coming to prey on you while you are vulnerable.”
“Please, John, we do not have time for this tonight.” She reached for his hand, but he jerked it away. The movement stung.
“No. You can do what you like, you always do anyway, but I will not stand by as you make a foolish decision in the heat of the moment. Come and talk to me tomorrow. Do things properly.”
“It has to be tonight.”
“Then it will be without me.”
Without another word, he was through the cottage door, pulling it shut behind him.
Mouse leaned back until her legs met with the garden wall. She could hardly breathe. What would she and Thornwood do now?
Listen to John, the voice in her mind said, but it was even quieter this time, and Mouse forgot the words in a moment.