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He popped up from his back float. “Why don’t we leave?”

I laughed humorlessly. “Believe me, I’d love to, but we are trapped here.” I explained the whole situation to him.

“Marry Linden?” Jocko said, gagging slightly. “Doesn’t he understand polygamy laws?”

“Apparently not.”

“You have to do some of your magic and get us out of here,” Jocko stated.

“I agree, and I’m trying, but whatever magic Oonagh cast on me is affecting my already wonky magic.” I showed him. My hands sparkled, rosy and gold, then sputtered and died.

“Great,” he muttered.

I nodded in frustrated agreement.

“Maybe you can squeeze me under a door or through a vent or something, and I can make it to Etienne,” Jocko said, rising up on the edge of his bowl, looking around for a place to sneak out.

“You’re a crawfish,” I said, giving him a dubious grimace. “How long do you think it would take you to crawl your way back to St. James Bayou?”

He made a face. “I could just go across the street to your parents.”

“How long would that take?” And he couldn’t exactly dodge traffic with any sort of agility.

“Awhile,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“It’s a possibility,” I said, feeling the need to bolster his ego. He couldn’t help that he was a small crustacean. “But I think we can find a way out.”

“Ah, our little bride is awake.”

I spun to see Silver, Oonagh’s handsome and obedient husband leaning in the doorway. “Just in time for the beautiful ceremony we have arranged for you and your new love.”

“You know he’s not my new, old, or ever love,” I spat at him.

Silver grinned, the curve of his mouth more evil than amused. “But he will be.”

I looked around, spotting a metal nail file in a basket on the bathroom counter. The file would have been more useful to jimmy the bedroom door lock than fight off a unicorn Shifter. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

I grabbed and waved the small nail tool out in front of me. “Get back. And let us go.”

Silver laughed. “Oh please.” He waved his hand, and his magic darted out of his fingers and swirled around me. My last thought before I passed out yet again, was that unicorn magic smelled just like cotton candy.

When I came to again,I was propped up on a velvet chaise, and, to my utter horror, wearing a wedding dress. A hideous one. If Tim Burton had a garage sale of rejected costume pieces, and those were then dipped in white paint and sprinkled with dead lilies, you’d have this gown. There were at least three crinolines involved, not to mention tulle sleeves so stiff my arms were lifted out at the sides of my body.

Oonagh herself whirled around the room in a floor-length silver caftan, barking orders at invisible minions and gesturing at linen-wrapped chairs. Linden, meanwhile, floated through the room with the prideful swagger of a man who was convinced he was the main character at his own wedding. Even though the bride was, in this case, a heavily cursed, unwilling participant.

The only person not in motion was Silver, who stood sentry at the door. He wore a suit that looked custom-tailored for a Bond villain. His eyes, the strange licorice-black of the Licorne family line, watched me constantly, unblinking.

“Good, you’re awake!” Oonagh called out, clapping her hands. The sound was sharp as a gunshot. “Let’s see how you look with the veil.”

I struggled upright, limbs slow and shaky from whatever spell had been force on me earlier.

Linden appeared at my side, smiling down with all the smugness of a cat who’d eaten not just the canary but the entire bird store. “Mally, you look beautiful.”

“I look like a ghost that haunts JoAnn Fabrics,” I muttered.

His smile twitched, but did not fade. He took my hand in his, ignoring the fact that I instantly tried to pull away. “You’ll learn to love me.”

“Statistically, that seems unlikely,” I said, trying to focus my thoughts. My head throbbed in time to the fake wedding march playing over the mansion’s sound system. I was going to vomit, or punch something, or both.