Chapter 174

Issen’s sister came over the mountains three days before Midwinter, in a sledge, with two elven aunts and a harp of her own and a list.

Her name was Maelis. She was taller than Issen and quieter and a great deal more frightening, and she had the whole wedding written on a strip of birch-paper in a tiny elven hand, which she unrolled on Nana’s table the first evening and read out item by item, as Quill would have read a treaty. There was to be a cord. There were to be words, one from each kin-stander, which must be true and must be short. There was to be a crossing of the threshold, which in Ellisar meant a doorway hung with green and in Vaelmoor, after some discussion, meant the stable door, because Rowan said it was the only door in the place he had ever felt at home walking through.

“And the horse,” said Maelis, looking up. “My sister tells me there is a horse.”

“There’s Pudding,” said Rowan.

“The horse will wear a ribbon,” said Maelis, and rolled up the li