I looked away from Mab, because she was probably in the right. I’d made a deal and sworn my oaths. Mab, as my liege, had not only the right, but the obligation to marry me off if it meant a more stable and secure Winter.

But that didn’t matter.

Because I’d had a long damned week.

And Murph was gone.

And the Winter mantle didn’t do a thing for that kind of pain.

“You know what you can do with your wedding?” I asked Mab pleasantly, and even though I knew I was about to offer her open defiance in front of witnesses, and that there was only one way she could react to such a thing, I felt the words coming up.

Mab’s gaze turned icy and settled on me.

And some part of me said, What the hell? and started looking for the most childishly insulting thing I could possibly say to her.

But before I could come up with something really good, open my mouth, and doom myself, Molly and Lara had both come between us.

“This is inappropriate to force upon him at this time,” Molly said in a cool, rational tone to Mab, as she put a hand on my shoulder. Her fingers closed in an icy vise, hard enough to make my arm go numb. It wasn’t quite as effective as slamming a gag over my mouth would have been, but it was close. “In the immediate wake of the battle and his personal losses,” Molly argued, “there is nothing to be gained by putting further strain upon him.”

“Your terms are acceptable,” Lara said immediately upon Molly’s heels. “But the customs of both my people and his own call for a more graceful and appropriate period of time before a formal union is commenced—as well as for a mourning period after the passing of one of the honored dead. To ignore either of these requirements would be for you and me to openly disrespect each other. It would send mixed messages to our vassals upon the very foundation of our alliance.”

Mab looked coldly furious, but her gaze flickered aside to Molly and to Lara for maybe a tenth of a second. She stared at me and then arched an eyebrow, daring me to defy her. “Do you concur with this assessment, my Knight?”

The part of me that missed Murphy and was sick of hurting wanted to scream, Go pound sand, you frigid witch. I am not your Ken doll.

Molly’s hand clenched me hard enough to make things in my shoulder crackle.

Maybe she and Lara hadn’t shown up only in an effort to keep me from losing it on Marcone. Maybe they’d come in an effort to protect me from something a lot more dangerous.

I couldn’t stop from glaring defiance at Queen Mab.

But the part of me that wanted to survive rasped, “Yeah. What they said.”

Mab stared daggers at me for a solid thirty seconds of frozen silence. Then she said, “In the interests of building a solid foundation, Lady Lara, and in making best use of our Knight, Lady Molly, I will grant him the period of a year of mourning,” she said.

“Do you know what you can do with your year of mourn—” I began to say.

“Agreed,” Molly said hurriedly over me, and gave me a look that said, Dammit, Harry.

Mab gave Molly a narrow-eyed glance. Then she lifted a finger and added, “With the proviso that they make regular public appearances together. War does not wait for the mending of broken hearts. We must project the image of improved solidarity at once.”

Mab looked from Molly to Lara and back.

Molly looked like she was biting back a whole lot of what she had to say. But she inclined her head slightly and nodded.

Lara grimaced. She gave Molly a look that contained something like an apology. But she nodded as well.

“Excellent,” Mab said, her tone frozen. “See to the details, Lady Molly. Yourself.”

Lara winced.

Molly looked as if Mab had just punched her in the belly.

But she nodded.

Mab shook her head and said, “The world we have been building is at risk. Now is not the time for defiance. From any of you. Do not make me regret my investments.”

Something very like fear touched Lara’s face for a moment. She didn’t look up to challenging Mab. I knew how she felt.

“I would speak privately with my Knight,” Mab continued. “Lady Molly. Lady Lara. Thank you for your time.”

Mab didn’t exactly dismiss them, not directly. But her tone made it perfectly clear that they had been dismissed, nonetheless.

Lara turned to go. Molly hesitated for a second, her expression uncomfortable.

The way I understood it, Molly didn’t exactly have an option when Mab gave her a direct order. Power always comes at a price.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

My ex-apprentice gave me a faint smile. Then she traded a guarded look with Mab, inclined her head to the Queen of Winter, and walked with Lara out of my secondhand castle. There was some definite coolness between Lara and Molly: Actual frost formed on the floor at the Winter Lady’s feet.

And that left me alone with Mab.

Mab raised a hand as I began to speak and said, her voice tired and uninflected, “Yes. You defy me. Obviously. You always do. In the interests of efficiency, let us assume you have uttered some mystifying reference to mortal popular nonsense, I have glared at you and reminded you of the power I hold over you, you have confirmed that you continue to understand the circumstances that require me to tolerate your insouciance, and we have both agreed to continue this ridiculous dance in the future, presumably for the remainder of time.”

Which made me blink.

Mab didn’t usually get into meta-discussions about the nature of our relationship.

She took a step past me and looked around the bare walls of the great hall. “The Baron has garnered the lion’s share of respect among his elders by surviving a storm this violent at all, much less proving to have prepared for it, seizing the initiative, and fighting for his territory successfully. Yet you have claimed a choice prize of him, and he has had the grace to yield it to you. And there are many who suspect you have claimed the Eye by right of victory as well—a circumstance far more favorable to you than if they actually knew whether you had it or not.” She pursed her lips. “You begin to understand how to armor yourself with your enemies’ doubts. Your reputation grows more formidable.”

“Formidable enough the White Council doesn’t want anything to do with me,” I said.

She waved a hand, her voice utterly confident. “Sheep fear wolves, my Knight. And it is appropriate that they do so.”

“The big bad momma of wicked faeries just looked at me about a work problem and said, ‘Whatchagonnado?’” I sighed. “Maybe that’s a bad sign.”