***
Ashley waited beneath the arbor, so intent upon seeing her that he could not draw his eyes from the church courtyard entryway. “Hmm… Perhaps she changed her mind,” one of the Trusted Few said.
“She had better not,” Lord Ramsdale grunted. He stood beside Ashley beneath the arbor. A grub worm poked its head from the earth and chattered at them. “What the hell was that?” the viscount asked.
“No idea,” Ashley muttered.
“He’s offended by your frantic pacing,” Ronald said. “He actually threatened bodily harm if you don’t stop it.”
“Bodily harm from a grub worm?” Ashley shot an incredulous look at the gnome.
Suddenly, the earth shook beneath his feet. Ashley held out his arms to the side to steady himself. “Don’t tell me,” the viscount muttered.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The gnome whistled innocently.
No matter how long he stayed in the land of the fae, Ashley would never grow used to the magic, he feared. His daughter, on the other hand, was quiet enchanted by it all. “Are you certain Anne is all right with your wife?” She didn’t know Lady Ramsdale, after all.
“My wife is enjoying every moment. And I’m certain Anne’s fine. You can stop your worrying about it.”
Just then, a sparkle from the entry to the church courtyard caught Ashley’s eye. It was gone in a flash. Then it reappeared. Well, Sophia appeared. It was as though she appeared in bits and pieces, as shimmery as her magic. When the whole of her took shape, he looked at her and he couldn’t believe his eyes. She was dressed in white and sparkled like a diamond, and holding hands with her was his daughter, Anne.
“Hi, Papa,” Anne cried with a small wave. She was dressed in something the likes of which he’d never seen. It was tightly fitting, and the skirt hung only to her knees where it drifted in wavy, detached pieces of fabric. “They let me have a fae dress,” she exclaimed. “Do I look beautiful?”
It was almost too hard for him to answer. To do so, he’d have to draw his gaze from Sophia. But he forced himself to look at his daughter and praise her appropriately. “Do you have a bit of fae in you, Anne?” he said as he crouched down on one knee.
“No wings,” she whispered back.
“I don’t have any either,” he whispered.
“But I saw some. They’re real.”
“I know they’re real,” he affirmed. “I have seen them myself.”
“Can I have some one day?” She cocked her pretty little head to the side.
He shrugged. “I believe anything may be possible in this land.”
Just then, the birds began a song, a most melodious song, and Ashley wondered at the way they had lined up along the top of the fence posts. But then, a row of turtles joined them, each holding curved drumsticks, and they began a basic rhythm on their backs. They were joined by spiders that made four silken strings, each several feet in length. Upon these strings sat a handy little bug, which Ashley didn’t even recognize. The bug began to pick at the strings, until he found a rhythm to match the rest of the symphony.
Sophia clapped loudly. Then she leaned close to him and whispered. “They haven’t done this in years. This must mean that the balance is being restored. They’re happy.”
Ashley tucked a lock of hair behind her pointy ear. Would he ever get used to their differences? He supposed not. But life would never be boring. “Are you happy?” he asked softly.
“I’d be happier if I could marry you as myself,” she said quietly. “But this will have to do.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I wish I could show my wings,” she whispered for his ears alone.
“Why can’t you?” he whispered back.
“Because they’re the wrong color,” she murmured, flushing as she remembered why the color change had taken place.
“I love you no matter their color. And I think you should be proud of them, because it was only by our actions that I arrived here. We’re together. And we’re making it legal.”
Sophia appeared to mull it over. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it. If she did that much more, he would have to kiss it. She closed her eyes, and within seconds, her wings appeared. Her grandmother’s antique dress was laden with fae magic, so her wings didn’t disturb the beauty of the dress. They were the color of her skin. They flushed as much as she did. They weren’t pink. Or red. Or any other telling hue. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, shaking her head.
Her mother stepped up beside her. “You love him.” That was all she said. As though the answer could be found in those three little words.