Anwen accepted the boxes from Ruairi with a mumbled thanks and closed the door in my face.
Ruairi refused to meet my questioning gaze as we ambled toward the next house belonging to a grumpy, stone-faced grogoch. “Ye will have to excuse Anwen. Herself and Tadgh—”
“I gathered as much.” I wasn’t foolish. I’d known the cursed life my fiancé had led would come back to haunt me someday.
We visited ten more Danú, seven residents and three displaced, their receptions each as chilly as the one before. In time, they would learn that I wasn’t like the humans who persecuted them. At least, not anymore.
I approached the final house with a heavy heart. Ruairi suggested keeping the pie for ourselves, and as good as that idea sounded, I needed to see this mission through. I might not have made a connection with any of the people this day, but at least I’d made a start. To leave this pie in the basket felt a lot like failure.
So I steeled my shoulders and knocked.
The stooped woman who answered had more wrinkles than not and a pair of spectacles perched on the end of her slightly hooked nose. When she saw me, she startled.
“My name is Keelynn, and I’ve come from the castle with a gift.” I handed over the pie.
The woman lifted the lid and inhaled deeply. “Thank ye. It smells delicious.” Her crinkled lips fell into a frown. “Not sure I need a whole one, though. It’s just me in this big, drafty place.”
At least her refusal had been polite. I was about to take back the box when the strangest thing happened. The woman opened the door wider and invited us to join her.
Perhaps I hadn’t heard her correctly. Best to be sure, just in case. “You want me to come inside?”
“If ye have the time. I just put the kettle on.”
“But…you don’t know me.”
Her wispy gray eyebrows came together. “Aren’t ye the human who killed that wicked witch who cursed our prince?”
Ruairi let out a gruff chuckle.
All right. Perhaps shedidknow me. “Yes. I am.”
“That’s what I thought. Get yerself in here for a nice spot of tea and tell me all about it.” Her soft brown eyes lifted to my escort. “And bring yer handsome friend as well.”
The woman’s name was Nettie May, and it turned out she was a witch as well. She didn’t bat an eyelash at my humanity or my engagement to the prince, only offered a heartfelt congratulations to us both. We stayed for as long as we could, chatting about her life in Tearmann and laughing like old friends. In spite of all the cold shoulders and glowers today, I left her house feeling as if I’d finally done something right.
That was until we passed Anwen’s cottage on the way back to the castle and found a murder of crows collecting by the front gate, picking at a feast of mince pies.
Ruairi tried to make excuses, saying maybe they’d gone off, but we both knew that was a lie. After all, we’d eaten more than our fair share of Eava’s pie at Nettie’s house. The heaviness in my heart returned tenfold. By the time we reached the castle’s warded gates, all I wanted was to curl up in bed and cry.
Instead, I got to stand in the great hall and try on my wedding dress.
Melody nodded in greeting as I closed the door behind me. A swath of ivory silk hung over the back of Tadhg’s throne.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting.” I started unfastening the buttons on the front of my dress until the garment pooled at my feet. “Will I keep my shift on or remove it as well?”
Melody barely spared me a glance from where she dragged pins and shears from her carpet bag. “Take it off if you don’t mind. That way we have a better idea of size.”
I stood in my corset and knickers in the middle of the drafty hall. As Melody helped me into the gown, I had a sinking feeling this was not going to go well. Not only did the dress look nothing like I’d imagined, it looked as if a child had sewn the seams.
“This doesn’t come off my shoulders.”
Melody fluffed the lace at my throat. “I thought a high neckline would better suit your slender neck.”
If I’d wanted a high neckline, I would’ve asked for one. “And the ruffles?”
She tugged and dragged the fabric over my backside, nearly taking my knickers with her. “To give the illusion of hips. You’re thin as a post.”
I resisted the urge to say that Tadhg loved me despite being “thin as a post.”