She sighed.
And Urian looked at her. “I think I like you better as a car . . . or a horse.”
Callisto flashed sharp teeth at him in what he was fairly sure was a smile, not that he’d bet his life on it.
Then she sauntered off into the crowd with a repeated, “No weddings, pup!”
And Urian was left feeling far less confident than he was accustomed to feeling. He looked at Katherine, hoping she wasn’t looking at him with tainted eyes. No faery in this world was omnipotent, so being smacked around by wild magic wasn’t emasculating.
What he worried was that the revelation that Katherine had almost married him accidentally would send her fleeing.
She met his gaze, and instead of censure, he found joy. “Huh. Guess you like me as much as you said.”
Urian’s unexpected laugh escaped. “Told you.”
“True.” Katherine nestled close to his side. “Maybe we ought to start with dating instead of . . . you know . . .weddings.”
“If you prefer,” he agreed.
“I do,” she said, then realizing what words she had just said, added quickly. “I dopreferdating.”
“How about we grab a drink and talk?” he suggested, gesturing to a table laden with assorted wines and liquors. “Pick your drink, Katherine. I’ll keep answering questions, the sort where we stay clothed.”
Her answering smile was wicked in all the right ways. “For now,” she murmured.
And somewhere in the throng of dancing faeries, Urian heard Callisto laugh.
ChapterTwenty-One
Katherine
They made their way to a table that looked like it still had roots on one end, as if a tree had simply bowed deep and the assembled faeries decided to rest their drinks on it before it straightened again.
“Why do I feel like this is a test?” she asked quietly.
Various faeries watched her, some subtly and others overtly. Unlike most of her encounters with the fey, these faeries didn’t hide their notice of her. If anything, they seemed more interested than she could understand.
“No test, love, unless you want to take one.” Urian gestured at the bottles. “What’s your preference?”
Normal liquor was there, but there were a few that were very obviously something else. She realized that they were fey in some way or other.
One of the bottles looked like sunlight captured in a thick green glass bottle. Another looked like it was slick black ink writhing all on its own. A third bottle was more jug than liquor bottle. It seemed like ice was barely contained inside that one. A thin layer of rime seemed to crackle the bottle, and the table under it had a sheen as if it alone was frozen. Another looked empty, although she knew somehow that it wasn’t. Something ethereal filled it. Yet another was filled with what looked like a bunch of thunderclouds or shadows.
Assorted other bottles, all less unusual, lined the table. It was those five that drew her attention, though.
“One of those five,” she finally said.
Somehow, she knew that was the question. They were a test if shewantedto take it, he’d said.
“Which one?” he prompted. “If you want one . . .”
Katherine knew in her heart that there was only one she wanted, but she was afraid of making a mistake. “What happens if I pick the wrong one?”
“No one does if they trust their instincts.” Urian kissed her cheek, and while he was close, he whispered, “You can avoid those drinks if you want, love. No pressure onanything, remember? No one will look upon you differently, and”—he pulled back and looked around—“if anyone did judge you, they’d have to answer to me.”
Katherine looked at him, truly looked, and her heart felt like it was stuttering at the impossible adoration in his expression.
Faeries can’t lie.She wondered if that meant that his affection was as real as it seemed.Could he be confusing lust for love?