Danny laughed.
When May had informed me that I was going to have a bachelorette party whether I wanted one or not, I’d drawn the line at one very important point: it was going to be open to any of my friends who wanted to attend. I wasn’t going to lock out the men in my life just because she wanted to throw me a party out of a Miss Manners handbook.
To my relief, she had agreed to my demand, in part, I think, because she knew Quentin would kill her if he didn’t get to come. Technically, he and Dean were both too young to be here, but they had human disguises that made them look like they were in their mid-twenties, and no squire of mine was going to walk around not knowing how to get a fake ID. Given that Dianda is at least two hundred years old and still using an ID that says she’s twenty-two, it seemed like one of the lesser lies of the evening.
Raj, Tybalt’s nephew and heir, would normally have been present, since he and Quentin are functionally joined at the hip, but he was staying with his uncle for the night, keeping Tybalt company and learning more of what he’d need to know when he became King of Cats. Once Tybalt and I were married, he’d need to step down in order to avoid a situation where his family and his crown came into conflict. Raj was only eighteen. He was still ready to serve his people. Thank Oberon for that. I don’t know if I could have handled the guilt if he’d been taking the throne unwillingly.
The rest of the room was a weird cross-section of the local fae courts. In addition to Dianda, we had Queen Arden Windermere in the Mists and her Seneschal Madden, both of whom were pureblooded fae, and both of whom had been recognized by the bartender when we arrived; my changeling friends Stacy and Kerry, and Stacy’s daughter, Cassandra; Danny, who was pureblooded but associated with no noble courts; Jazz and May, and a good dozen others.
The only person who’d refused the invitation was Sir Etienne of Shadowed Hills, who sent his regrets, enough money to buy two rounds for the whole party, and his human wife Bridget. She was sharing a table with Marcia, both laughing as they pored over the book of song options. Thick rings of faerie ointment surrounded their eyes, letting them see through the illusions around them. They may as well not have bothered. For once, everyone was on an equal playing field, and everyone was enjoying it.
Quentin and Dean finished their song. The applause was more enthusiastic than it had been for May, probably because both boys had managed to stay within a reasonable distance of the right key for the entire song. It wasn’t that we were musical snobs. We just enjoyed our ears not actively bleeding.
“All right, all right,” said the DJ. “Next up, we have Annie. Annie to the stage!”
“Arden’s going to punch him in the nose for getting her name wrong,” I said, and took another swig of my beer.
“Uh,” said Danny. “That ain’t Arden.”
I turned. A dark-haired woman in tattered jeans and a white tank top was walking toward the stage. She didn’t look familiar. I shrugged.
“We’re not the only people here,” I said. “Everybody gets a chance to sing if they want it, right? She’ll be done in a few minutes.”
“Don’t you recognize her?”
“No. Should I?”
Danny looked frustrated. “I dunno. She looks familiar, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her before.”
I frowned, first at him and then at the woman. There was no sparkle in the air around her; she wasn’t wearing an illusion. She was, however, wearing one of May’s glittery red-and-silver “Bachelorette Backup” buttons pinned to the left strap of her tank top, marking her as either part of our group or as an opportunistic stranger who was hoping to get some cake.
The music started. I felt the blood run out of my face, leaving me cold.
“Oh, oak and ash,” I said. “This isn’t happening.”
I wasn’t the only one to have that thought. Quentin pushed through the crowd to stand on my other side, trying to snatch the beer away from me. I slapped his hand. It wasn’t that I specifically objected to underage drinking—especially since he was of legal age in Canada, where he comes from—it was that I really, really needed my beer.
“That’s the Luidaeg,” he said, sounding dazed.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed.
“That’s the Luidaeg, singing ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls.’ In a karaoke bar. In front of other people.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed again. Doing anything else seemed impossible. Well, except for maybe drinking my beer. Drinking my beer, I could do. I drank some of my beer.
The Luidaeg did not disappear. The Luidaeg remained on the stage, belting out the sea witch’s song from Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Given that the Luidaeg is the sea witch according to every legend I’ve ever heard, the overall effect was more than a little jarring.
“We’re gonna need more beer,” said Danny.
May flounced through the crowd and wedged herself between us, beaming from ear to ear. “Didn’t I tell you this would be the best place to hold your bachelorette party?” she demanded. “Tell me I’m a genius. Go on, tell me. I promise not to argue with you.”
“The Luidaeg is singing,” I said, in case she hadn’t noticed. May can be a little flighty sometimes. It was possible she’d been too focused on her need for another cocktail to realize that we were witnessing one of the portents of the apocalypse. “The Luidaeg is singing Disney songs.”
“Because I’m a genius,” said May. She leaned over the bar, waving to the bartender until he nodded and flashed her a thumbs-up. Then she rocked back to the flats of her feet, looking obscenely pleased with herself. “You can say it.”
“I didn’t even know you invited her.”
“Uh, duh, I had to? It’s the Sleeping Beauty principle. You always invite the biggest badass on the block, or they show up later and curse everybody just to make a point. Besides, she’s having fun. We’re all having fun.”
“Not all of us,” I said, nodding toward Dianda.
The Duchess of Saltmist was staring at the Luidaeg, hands clasped so tightly around her beer bottle that I was worried about her crushing it and getting broken glass everywhere. The Luidaeg used to spend most of her time in the Undersea, which only makes sense for someone whose most frequently used title is “sea witch.” She stopped after the slaughter of the Roane—better known as her children and grandchildren. So far as I know, she’s lived on the land ever since.
This might have been the closest Dianda had ever been to the Undersea’s most powerful, most legendary Firstborn. She was looking at the Luidaeg the way I would have expected her to look at Oberon himself, if he’d still been around to be seen.
May sighed. “She needs to take a deep breath and remember that you and the Luidaeg are friends.” A fresh cocktail appeared by her elbow. This one was as green as Danny’s was pink, and garnished with several wedges of fresh kiwi.