A small crowd of Fae have gathered on the lawn of their castle. It's a massive, medieval-looking structure. All walls and parapets. It looks like a fortress meant to repel attackers, and not like a home at all.
But all these people have made their home here.
I see little Tress laughing and smiling. Gabrielle nods to me in a respectful way, her eyes betraying nothing. The other elder women watch in mild disapproval, but it seems the sight of Fabien in his wedding suit melts their hearts. Smiles erupt on their sour faces. Lysander watches from beside the small stage that's been built for us. Zedona, acting as my father, stands on the opposite side. He looks stiff, like he misses the gun he used to carry.
He looks more like a nervous bodyguard than my dad.
