Page 113 of Made

“If I need to.”

“Alright. That might be the limb I’m hanging myself from. If he bites anybody at the party...”

“He won’t. He’s a good… um…” I stopped just short of calling John David a good vampire. Since I wasn’t sure there was such a thing, I thought better of putting that out there.

After an I-don’t-know-about-that waggle of her head, she said, “What the hell. If he tried to bite somebody, Diarmuid’s dogs would chase him across the universe and show him what a good biting is all about.”

“So that means you will make sure he gets an invitation that looks and sounds the same as everybody else’s?”

“You aresodistrustful!”

“It’s a fair observation. I think, since becoming magistrate, I’ve become more trusting in some ways and more skeptical in others.”

Evie’s demeanor slowly switched to serious. “I see that.”

“You too, I think.”

“I see that, too.” With a little nod, she added, “Yes. To answer your question. He’ll get an authentic invitation even if I have to personally hand-deliver both it and him. I had no idea you’d feel so strongly about including that damn vampire. “

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Didn’t say I either understand or agree. I’m just saying I will do this for you. Because you’re my mom. And, the next time there’s a question between us, I’ll win because it’s my turn.”

“That’s how we’re doing things now?”

“Seems fair. Right?”

“No, Evie. Taking turns is one thing. Fairness is another. If I won a hundred arguments a day for the rest of my life, you’d still owe me.Because I’m your mom.” Pause. “Ask any credible judge.”

“For the purpose of this discussion, just forget your side gig as magistrate.”

“Side gig!?! Pray tell, what for heaven’s sake do you think is mymaingig?”

“You’re the owner of a charming, magical/mundane antique store.”

I rolled my eyes. Whatever. Kids get strange ideas about parents sometimes. “Huh. Somebody forgot to tell Maggie.”

My girl giggled like a seven-year-old.Love that.

The party was every bit as mad and crazy as Maeve herself. She was definitely in her element as she bustled about giving orders and leaving no question about who was in charge at her, ahem, ostensibly-for-Rhiannon party. Her ridiculous costume could only be described as Glenda the Good Witch meets prom. She was in baby girl pink from head to toe with miles of tulle in her cake-topper skirt.

In addition to service crew such as cooks, stewards, and servers, there were dozens of entertainers made up of every kind of creature imaginable. They juggled or tumbled or ate fire or sang or played instruments inside in almost every hallway and outside on every patch of grass. Against the backdrop of flags, banners, and balloons, the assembly was a riot of color and activity.

All six non-Irish queens were in attendance, each with an entourage of staff, family, and elite nobility. And each of them came with a gift. Evie and Diarmuid sat on thrones on a platform six steps up from the floor. Thorn stood behind Evie and gazed on the proceedings resentfully. The tiny dragon stood on Thorn’s back trying to use his talons to remove the metal ribbon that tied his snout shut.

First, Squeaky couldn’t stand being silenced to the point where a psychotic break might be eminent. Second, he’d been “programmed” with an undermining mission to carry out at this very party. So far he’d been unable to follow the directions he’dbeen given by Vidar because his mind was entirely occupied with getting free of the cursed ribbon.

Evie appeared supremely regal as she held Rhiannon in her lap. The princess remained awake and bright-eyed for the entire gift-giving ritual. Really, my granddaughter behaved like an angel. There was a part of me that found that a gross injustice given the way her mom had always chosen to act up in public when she was that age. Of course, I wasn’t serious about wishing maternal embarrassment for my only child. And, since my eyes had been opened to the magical world, I was gradually inching closer and closer to believing in fate.

On the steps leading up to the dais, the Harlequin trio of royal dogs sat on their haunches, front legs stretched in front of them, ears straight up and on the lookout for potential misdeeds. They were so striking, wearing gloriously splashy coats as art, not to mention the heist-worthy collars, that they were the talk of the fae gathering. Everyone wondered how Diarmuid had scored such a prize and speculated that they’d been a gift from the gods in appreciation for his work as Prince of the Wild Hunt. None but the inner circle of the inner circle wouldeverknow the answer to that question.

Each fae dignitary, or family grouping, was called forward by a professional announcer who resembled a giant sloth in top hat and tails. Guests bowed to Evie and Diarmuid, spoke well wishes for the happiness of prosperity of the princess, then presented their gift.

Vidar’s teeth clenched when he arrived and assessed the state of play regarding the dragon. He was angry enough about being thwarted for his jaws to stay locked in that clench. He’d made a promise to his lover that he’d deliver her heart’s desire. How dare they interfere?

He spotted Ilmr, who was doing her best to be surreptitious in her quest to find him in the crowd. He started that direction, but didn’t get far before seeing Niall skulking about a carnival tent pole, beer stein in hand. Changing direction, he walked over to Niall.

When the prince looked up, he smiled. “Vidar!” He almost sounded excited. With a wave of the stein intended to encompass the whole of the circus playing out Maeve-style, he said, “Mum’s outdone herself this time.”

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