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She looked down at the humans scurrying about. So much effort to celebrate the joining of two pairs of young lovers. But maybe the effort mattered as much? Perhaps love was more than just the spark and the kiss?

She lost the train of that thought as Gwyn descended the stairs with several of her sisters. Wedding guests had begun to trickle in and the girl did her duty, greeting new arrivals, mixing and mingling. Thistle kept hidden and watched for Locryn’s appearance.

He’d been difficult to keep track of over the last few days, as he’d spent much of his time closeted with his aunt in her stillroom. Thistle knew better than to cross that lady. She was a friend to the Pixies and a rare human with true magic. She did manage to catch a footman leaving the room at Lancarrow and carrying a message to Gwyn at Keyvnor, but the girl had burned the parchment after reading it, much to Thistle’s frustration.

She’d taken to following the girl, then, and had an easier job of it. And she’d found much to approve of, especially when she’d seen her sighing over a box of dried sea holly thistles—the same blooms Locryn had given her, eight long years ago.

Oh, surely he would make an appearance here today. The wedding was the reason for his visit to Cornwall, was it not?

She waited.

The great hall filled. The family took their seats at the front of the space, near the massive fireplace. There were so many guests that all the seats filled and others stood at the sides and in the back. Thistle watched closely, but saw no sign of Locryn. She moved to a pillar toward the back, and ducked into a garland of greenery and hothouse flowers as the two happy brides came down the stairs on either side of their beaming father.

At that point, when they moved through the crowd to join their grooms and all eyes were fixed on the spectacle, the great outer doors opened and Locryn came in.

Thistle’s heart pounded. He would seek Gwyn out. She knew it. And if he did not, then she would do . . . something. Lure him with the scent of sea holly, perhaps—

She stopped. Locryn carried a large box with him. He gave it over to a footman with whispered instructions. The servant nodded and departed, climbing the stairs with it.

Locryn moved quickly and quietly into the great hall. He kept to the side, hugging the wall beneath the minstrel’s gallery and making his way forward through the crowd.

This made it easier for Thistle to follow. She popped from pillar to pillar, peering ahead and picking her spot carefully so that she would be concealed behind the evergreens and ribbons.

When Locryn reached the front of the hall, he stopped. Gwyn sat near the bridal couples with her family. He watched her from the shadows and the light that the girl engendered in him flared higher and more brightly than Thistle had yet seen it.

She sighed at the sight—and drew strength from it, too. This was about more than her own guilt. These two were meant for each other, meant to create light and love. She would help them find it.

The ceremony was nearly over. Announcements were made. The happy couples turned to beam at their guests. The crowd sighed. Some wiped tears away. Others applauded. A few stood and moved to embrace the newly mated humans. Locryn began to maneuver through the crowd. He made his way to a space behind Gwyn and touched her on the shoulder.

The girl spun around and the light flared in her too. Thistle sighed. Perhaps they could use the cover of the crowd and kiss?

But no, Locryn only passed her something, something small enough to fit in her hand. Thistle scanned the area near them, desperate to get closer. A pedestal with a massive arrangement of hothouse flowers stood nearby. She concentrated, picking a spot to pop into—but then she gasped.

Froze.

Morcom.

Morcom was already there, peering out from behind a huge white lily. He wore a frown that intensified as Locryn leaned in to whisper something. Morcom held out a hand, poised to—do what? Magic?

But Locryn pulled back, bowed and turned to move away. Morcom’s expression eased as his gaze followed and after a moment, he disappeared.

Thistle sank back into the shelter of the evergreens. What had she just seen? WasMorcomthe reason the pair of humans had not shared a kiss? She knew her curse hadn’t been preventing it! Had he sent that bird? Interfered in some other way, in the garden? But why?

Why would he be so kind for so long, but work against her dearest wish now?

She didn’t understand.

She had to understand.

Popping herself out of the castle and into the familiar woods, she headed for the Pixie’s barrow.

CHAPTER6

The Yule Ballwas in full sway and the castle looked wonderful. Bright candles lit all of the dark corners. Wood and stone gleamed. The green, red and white of the decorations made a stunning backdrop for the brilliant variety of the ball gowns.

Gwyn barely noticed it all. She moved through the crowd, looking for certain members of her family.

“Rose!” Her sister stood next to Lord Snowingham—extremely close. “Rose, will you do me a favor?”