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We were careful.

After what we had gone through to get Monica, nothing seemed worth the risk of losing her. But then one day, it was her who asked us, “Why aren’t you married?”

She was only five, but she’d overheard the kitchen staff talking.

Kaya could laugh it off but it bothered me.

I was a bit old-fashioned like that. I wanted to call her my wife, the queen of the castle.

“Am I not the queen of your heart?” she teased me but then she relented and said perhaps we could have a small ceremony, inviting only our dearest and closest friends. It would not be a big fancy affair but we would hold it outside, in the glade by the river, where the daffodils bloomed in spring. I had always thought it would be ideal for a wedding and had hoped that I would one day be able to marry there. The dream had never died, no matter how many obstacles presented themselves.

As our wedding day approached, I became nervous and Kaya was anxious too. We worried about skinwalkers inhabiting one of the guests’ bodies or of vampires sneaking in through the tunnels, one of Simon or Ulrike’s family members coming to avenge their deaths. The Gustafsons had told me they would not forget and a wedding was just the kind of venue they might choose to launch an attack.

I ordered extra security for the castle grounds.

Kaya kept Monica with her at all times, as if she thought faeries might steal her away at any moment, which was not unheard of, of course.

Finally, the day of the wedding arrived.

My company CEO, Max van Patten arrived, along with Kaya’s nearest and dearest, her best friend Pearl, whose daughter she had helped raise. Princess was sixteen now and close to Monica. She had almost forgiven me for turning Kaya into a vampire. Josie flew in from Washington and even Elizabeth, my sister’s granddaughter, attended.

The guests took their seats as the sun set.

Kaya was a vision in a white satin dress that clung to her figure and shimmered as she moved. Her hair was swept up and she wore no jewelry, just a thin leather band that had once held the occillite that had saved all of us. The leather band was a reminder of who she was or used to be.

We stood in the field of daffodils and said our vows, holding hands.

Then I kissed her, probably our most chaste kiss yet, as the wedding guests clapped and cheered.

It was a moment of pure joy.

And then, Kaya said suddenly, “Where’s Monica?!”

She’d been there moments ago, standing with us, dressed in a lovely flower girl outfit. Now she was gone, nowhere to be seen.

“Monica! Monica!” Kaya started screaming, looking for her.

The guests jumped up from their chairs, all looking and calling for Monica.

Everyone knew how precious she was.

I found Zoran, who said he’d go check the security cameras but there had been no breach, no incident from security’s side.

I joined Kaya searching for Monica, calling her name and then I saw her, standing at the river.

“Monica!” I swooped down and swept her into my arms.

“Where did you go? We were so worried about you?!”

The little girl seemed unconcerned about the fuss she had caused.

“Grandpa was calling me,” she said earnestly.

“Grandpa?” Kaya asked, frowning.

I asked what he looked like and she described my father. But there were pictures of him all over the castle.

Then she said, “He said he wanted to show me his bridge. It was made for children like me, he said.”