Free A Sterkarm Kiss by Susan Price

thousand thanks for decorating the hall so beautifully.”
    Windsor nodded, shook hands, and said, “Har ayn god dah” —have a good day—before turning to the person behind Per—a craggy-faced, bearded, and wicked-looking individual whom he knew to be Gobby Per, the lad’s uncle.
    Andrea, struggling to greet the endless line of guests who came after Per, found herself peering at them through a blur of tears. Per’s smile, his flirtatiousness, and even his tactful manners had brought back, so sharply, such memories of that other time with him that her heart was twisted. But how could he flirt with her like that on his wedding day—especially considering how it would annoy the Grannams? And wasn’t it just like him, to flirt with her on his wedding day—especially when it would annoy the Grannams? And she was glad he had.
    While turning away to pick up a gift bag, she took the opportunity to wipe tears from her eyes, and turning back, she recognized Sweet Milk—big, hulking, fearsome-looking Sweet Milk, who had been her good friend. He didn’t know her now, but he smiled at her because he thought her pretty.
    Well, she thought, if I can’t have Per this time around, I can always have Sweet Milk. She gave him a wide smile and said, “A good day to thee, Master Beale! I be gladdened to see thee!”
    His face—usually so expressionless—broke into an expression of utter shock that a woman who had never seen him before should know his name—not his nickname, which even Grannams knew, but his real name, which he’d almost forgotten himself. Alarmed, he snatched his goodie bag and went by into the tent.
    Well, she thought, at least he’d remember her. Her eyes filled with tears again as she tried to greet the next person in line. Fool! she scolded herself. Fool! Now you’re stuck here, 16th side, when you could have been at home with Mick. And for what? Once Per’s married to that lovely girl, he won’t have any time for you.
    â€œThat’s right, lass,” an old Sterkarm woman said to her. “Cry at a wedding, laugh at a funeral!”
    â€œI’ll cry at your wedding, Katrin!” Andrea said to her, and the old woman’s smile turned to a wild-eyed fright. She hurried into the inflatable without even taking a bag. There might have been others waiting in line to be greeted, but Andrea couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see for tears.

5
    16th Side: The Wedding
    Per looked about the hall with amazement and delight. He was fortunate, he was blessed, to be living when Elves came to Man’s-Home. Barely a twelve-month since their Gate had opened on the hillside and they had driven out in their carts, bringing gifts—gifts that had never yet turned to dead leaves or dirt.
    This palace, built for his wedding, was a piece of Elf-Land brought to Man’s-Home. It wasn’t made of wood or even brick. It was silvery and glittered faintly, but it wasn’t silver or even metal. And here, inside!
    The roof wasn’t glass—how could glass be that shape?—but it let in light: the sort of light that would reach you through the petals of a white flower, if you were inside the flower.
    Flowers were everywhere. Little round-headed bushes, growing in pots and covered with white flowers. Wreaths and garlands winding up poles and hanging in festoons. Pink and white roses, and even Elvish roses of blue and lavender. Candles as thick as his arm. Little white flickering lights, like stars, threaded through it all.
    Long tables were covered with lacy cloths whiter than fresh snow, and decked with more flowers, and shining silver knives and spoons, and shining glasses. There were chairs enough for everyone to sit at the table, without having to share a bench. Even the small folk, the kitchen people, the shepherds—even they would have their own chairs. The Elves were treating them all like princes. Per had never