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I gasped, but didn’t cry out. I needed to play this carefully. The element of surprise was gone, but maybe, just maybe, Jocko could do enough damage to buy me a second window.

The lights flickered back on, and the wedding music resumed. Oonagh joined us, face red with rage, and barked, “Don’t move until you’re called. We’ll be starting in five minutes.”

Linden came back, fixing his hair in a mirror and blowing me a kiss. “I can’t wait, darling.”

I shot him a look that would have melted tungsten.

Jocko was gone from view, but I could feel him, somewhere close. Waiting for another opportunity to create chaos.

I waited, my wrists throbbing, dress itching, but my mind clearer than it had been since this nightmare began.

The ceremony was about to start.

And I wasn’t going to let it finish.

Chapter Ten

The next five minutes were a flurry of activity and escalating chaos. Oonagh was running the show with the iron will and creative vision of an evil Martha Stewart. She arranged and rearranged the silver aisle runner, fussed over flower placement, and checked the lighting. Linden, meanwhile, kept sneaking peeks at his reflection in the polished cake knife, slicking back his hair with a nervous energy that made me want to see how he’d look bald.

I counted the seconds, waiting for Jocko’s next move.

“If you are going to reprogram me, why not do it before this fiasco of a wedding?” I asked, hoping to give Jocko some time to formulate a new plan.

Linden strolled over to me. “That was my request. I wanted the Mally Jourdain I have known so long to be full aware that you are finally mine.”

Gross. So gross.

“But don’t worry, I will reprogram you as soon as you say, ‘I do,’” Oonagh said sweetly.

“Small blessing, I guess,” I said wryly.

Then I saw Jocko make his move. With the grace of a seasoned saboteur, he scuttled from beneath the credenza, pincers gleaming. He aimed straight for a decorative flowerpot the size of a toddler and began to wedge himself underneath, preparing to topple the whole thing. He’d chosen well: if the pot hit the floor, it would roll directly into the path of the cake table, taking down the seven-tier monstrosity in one glorious domino effect.

He got halfway there before Oonagh spotted him.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a bolt of magic straight at the flowerpot. A shimmer enveloped the ceramic, and, to my horror, Jocko was sucked inside. The entire pot trembled, then stilled, and the only evidence of his presence was the faint clatter of a single, desperate claw tapping against the inside.

“A crawfish familiar?” Oonagh smirked. “How quaint. Reminds me of my own wedding to Silver. That one had a leech for a ring bearer.”

“That seems very appropriate,” I said, glaring at them all.

Silver strong armed me over the the archway, clearly tired of waiting for this wedding to begin.

“No,” I shouted and tried to summon my magic again. But this time, I didn’t go for the witch power. I reached deep for the Fue Follet in my blood—the mischievous, will-o’-the-wisp magic I’d inherited from my dad. It was wilder, less predictable, and almost never worked indoors, but it was all I had left. The others wouldn’t see it.

I pictured blue flames, trickster light, the dizzying pulse of swamp air in August. For a moment, the world shimmered and a thin ribbon of blue fire flickered through my body, unseen to them, but overwhelming to me. Almost so overwhelming, my knees nearly buckled. The magic pooled low in my belly—andI realized the fey magic growing in my baby was joining mine, making it more powerful. Amazing.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I heard Silver say.

I just focused on the fey magic more, even as Linden pulled me to face him.

The flowerpot rattled in the corner. Jocko was alive, but going nowhere.

That’s when Linden decided it was the perfect time for another round of mansplaining, which was fine with me. He was giving my more time to call to my father.

“Soon, you’ll forget all about that mongrel husband and the little monsters you called family. You and I—this baby—” He patted my stomach, which made me want to bite him. “We’ll be so much more. Our child will be the most powerful magical being ever born.”

“Funny,” I said, shoving his hand away, “because you seem to think the best way to raise a kid is to murder their personality and gaslight the hell out of their mother. Good luck with that.”