"Oh blast, did I remember to put away that cow's heart before we left?"

Trinket raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Booker sitting beside her. "What were you doing with a cow's heart?"

"Research to improve my designs for that mechanical heart I showed you."

"For cows?"

"No, for humans. But people are so touchy about me opening up their dead relatives and rummaging around inside them, so I had to resort to a cow. Really, it's like they have some sort of sentimental attachment to their organs or something."

Shifting slightly on the coach bench, Trinket peeked out the window. "More likely they're opposed to the thought of their loved one being hacked open by a mad scientist."

Booker scoffed and crossed one leg over the other. "Please, I've never hacked anything in my life."

She pulled herself away from the passing scenery and began to fuss over her skirts. "Tell that to the corpse whose ribs you cracked during that last autopsy Jewkes had you do."

"Cracked ribs are inevitable, it's just part of the process." His eyes darted to her fidgeting fingers. "Are you all right?"

Biting her lip, she squeezed her hands into fists and flashed him a smile. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he reached out to take her hands in his own. "My dear, your brother invited you to his wedding. He wants you there."

She nodded but averted her eyes. "I know, I know."

There was a slight pause before he snaked his arm around her shoulders and drew closer. "And his opinion is the only one that matters today. Well, and Rae's. But that's it."

"Yes, yes, I know."

They hate you.

Go back!

This is a mistake!

She gave her head a quick shake to dispel the voices. "It'll be fine. I know it'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Just fine."

"You seem very convinced."

"The last time I saw my parents . . ." Her throat clenched, and she cleared it with some difficulty. "I have no idea what to expect from them."

"Well, if they're as prim and proper as you say, I'm certain they'll wish to not cause a scene at their son's wedding. So either they'll ignore you or they'll greet you with cold indifference."

"Are you trying to make me feel better? Because I thought we were working on your bedside manner—"

"We're not in bed, my dear." He gave her a devilish smile. "Although, if you'd like to skip the wedding altogether, we could certainly rent a room so you can teach me how to improve my—"

Shoving her palm into his face, Trinket pushed him away and sighed. "Incorrigible, Mr. Larkin. I do hope you intend to be on your best behavior this evening. It's bad enough I have to worry about how my parents will react to seeing me, I don't need the added stress of how they'll react to the mad scientist they now must call 'Son.'"

"Oh Lord, they're not going to call me 'Son,' are they?"

"No, they'll probably settle on Dr. Larkin. Or even just Doctor. Mother and Father are not much for familiarity. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they still refer to Rae as Miss O'Neill. Propriety is of the utmost importance to them."

"Then I doubt they're likely to make a scene upon your arrival. So, in your words, everything will be fine."

Trinket frowned and elbowed him playfully. "Teasing me at a time like this. How very uncouth."

Booker leaned towards her and plucked at her dark blue skirts, fingering the black lace lining the layers. "You look lovely, by the way. It's not every day I get to see you in such splendid attire."

"It would be a waste to dissect corpses and saw off limbs in my finest dresses, Mr. Larkin." She eyed him carefully. "You're looking rather dapper yourself."

Tugging at his black frock coat, he smirked and admired his reflection in the coach window. "I do clean up well, don't I?"

"Shall I leave you two alone?"

He turned back to her and pulled off one of his black leather gloves. "And look."

She furrowed her brow as he held his right hand up to her. Aside from the missing finger, nothing seemed that out of the ordinary. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"My nails. Look, no grease or dried blood. I gave them a good scrubbing last night. Impressive, right?"

Biting back a laugh, Trinket nodded approvingly. "I appreciate the efforts you've made, Mr. Larkin. No one would be able to guess you were dissecting a cow's heart shortly before we left."

Booker put his arm around her shoulders again. "Anything for you, my dear."

The coach lurched violently, throwing them off the bench and onto the floor. Booker caught Trinket and attempted to cushion her fall, but she still managed to suffer a blow to the head. Wincing against the pain, she tried to pull herself back up onto the bench.

"Bloody . . ." Booker cursed under his breath as he helped Trinket up. "What in the world happened?"

A slew of shouts and oaths came from the driver's seat. Sliding open the window, Trinket poked her head outside to investigate. It didn't take long to spot the red-faced driver muttering and kicking at the coach's front right wheel, which was off its axle and split down the middle.

"Is everything all right?" Booker asked as she ducked back inside.

"I think we hit a pothole. A rather large one based on the condition of the front wheel."

The coach shook, and the driver let out a yelp and another string of curses.

"Is the idiot trying to kick it back in place?" Booker said.

"I doubt that'll do much good, what with it in two pieces," Trinket said.

Letting out a sigh, Booker tugged off his frock coat and began to roll up his sleeves. "No, but a clockmaker's former apprentice might help. I apologize, my dear, but I may have to sully my clean nails for this."

With a smile, Trinket removed her gloves and set them atop his coat. "Well, what good will your clean nails be if we never get to the festivities?"

"Logical as always. Wait, what are you doing?"

She pushed the door open and raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't expect your assistant to stand idly by while you do all the work, do you? Come on now, before that blunderbuss fractures his foot."

~

"Lord, you'd think he would have been a tad more grateful considering we just mended his coach and prevented him from dislocating a toe," Booker mumbled as he and Trinket tumbled out of the coach at least three blocks from their destination.

"Calling him an incompetent lobcock probably didn't help," Trinket said, her skirt barely clearing the door before the irate driver snapped his whip at his horse and took off.

"You're the one who referred to him as a blunderbuss."

"Not to his face. Oh, blast, one of my hairpins fell out. Booker, can you fix this for me?"

Booker took the pin from her and gently stuck it back in place. "Where'd this come from?"

She glanced back and found him admiring the comb tucked in her braids. "Oh, Daphne bought it for me. She said I needed something special for today."

Running his fingers over the peacock and crow feathers, he gave a pleased hum. "She has lovely taste. I'll have to get her opinion next time I'm in need of a new walking stick."

"Well, to be fair, she wanted to buy me a rather elaborate hat, but I finally convinced her to settle on something a tad less conspicuous."

Time, time, time.

Trinket let out a sharp gasp and turned to face Booker. "What time is it?"

He fished out his pocket watch and snapped the cover open. "A little after six."

"Oh no! The wedding!"

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him down the road. "What time does it start?" he asked.

"The ceremony began at five-thirty. We've probably missed the entire thing. Oh, they're going to be so upset."

"Rae and Merrill are not going to hold you responsible for the coachman's faulty wheel."

"Come on, come on! Hurry!"

With impressive speed, they made it to her parents' new estate before six-thirty. They stopped a few feet away in order to catch their breath and right their appearance. Trinket gazed up at the elaborate structure, her heart pounding against her ribs. Was it from the sprint she and Booker had just run? Or was it anticipation? Or perhaps dread? True, this wasn't her childhood home. With any luck, she'd never have to set foot in that place again. But it was filled with memories of her life before Elysium. Her mother's elegant decor. Her father's expensive furniture. Did they still have the piano? And the fine china her mother brought out for special guests? What about her own belongings? Her dolls, her dresses, the pillow covers she'd sewn?

No, that wasn't likely. They'd surely cleared away every trace of her existence.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

Booker's voice snapped her out of her daze, and she quickly flashed a smile and nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am."

He held her arm and gave it a squeeze. "If you change your mind—"

Grasping his hand, she took a deep breath. "No. No, it's time I face this. Face them."

With her pulse still racing, she lifted her skirts and made her way up the front steps. She paused before the mahogany doors, her courage flickering momentarily. But before she could even consider fleeing, Booker nudged one of the doors open.

"Booker, what are you doing?" she hissed. "We can't just break into the house."

"Why not? They're your parents."

"Estranged parents."

"And we were invited. If anyone questions us, our names will be on the guest list. Besides, if we ring the bell and announce ourselves, we'll disrupt the festivities and your brother and sister-in-law will know we missed the ceremony."

"But—"

"Come on, you know I'm skilled in breaking and entering," Booker said as he tugged her inside.

"Gin would be so proud."

"She did teach me everything I know. Well, her and Frieda."

The foyer was empty, but the sounds of laughter and music from down the hall hinted at a large crowd in the rest of the house. Trinket's heeled shoes clicked and clacked against the brown and white marble tiles as she and Booker gazed about at the elaborate entrance. Light from the candles in the chandelier hanging overhead lit up the gold-embossed vines and flowers on the wallpaper, making it seem as though the entire room were sparkling. There was little in the way of furniture aside from a small desk with a tasteful arrangement of roses sitting atop it.

Booker let out a low whistle. "If this is the sort of luxury you were raised in, it's a wonder you can tolerate my shabby home," he said, glancing at the wide staircase leading up to the second floor.

"My mother was very particular about how she kept the house," Trinket said, laying a hand on the mahogany banister. "Appearances meant everything to her. Which is why I was such a problem."

A thick knot formed in her throat, and she pulled her hand away. Somehow it felt as though her touch would sully all her mother's hard work.

You ruin everything.

Everything.

Everything, everything, everything, every—

A dainty laugh echoed off the walls. Trinket tensed and turned towards the sound, not quite prepared to experience her first encounter with her past. Instead, she was met by a plump, rosy-cheeked woman in a peach gown and white gloves. She stumbled slightly as she entered the foyer, a nearly empty glass of champagne clutched in one hand as she fluttered a lacey cream-colored fan in the other. It took a few seconds for her to notice Trinket and Booker standing by the stairs, and when she did, her eyes went wide as she froze in place. For a moment, she looked almost afraid. But then her chubby cheeks rounded like apples in a dazzling smile, and she let out a delighted squeal.

"Miss Trinket! Mr. Larkin! What a wonderful surprise!" she exclaimed.

"Miss Alice," Trinket replied, somewhat flabbergasted at seeing the young woman in her parents' home. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed this wedding for the world! It's been the most anticipated event of the season. Half the town is here, not to mention the bride's friends and family from her hometown."

Trinket's stomach dropped. Friends and family from Broadfall? Her old neighbors? They were here?

The sparkling room was suddenly spinning, and she gripped the banister to stay steady on her feet. Shadows darted in and out of her sight, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Fortunately, Booker reached out and gently took hold of her elbow, keeping her grounded enough to push the hallucinations into the background.

"And what brings the two of you here?" Alice asked. "No one is ill, are they? Or injured?"

"Yes, because we'd come all the way from Tinkerfall to this little bumpkin town just to attend to a patient," Booker said.

Clutching her chest, Alice let out a dreamy sigh. "Such a devoted doctor, Mr. Larkin. I'd expect no less of you after how attentive you were to me when—well, you know."

She gave a high-pitched giggle followed by several hiccups.

Booker cast Trinket a side glance. "Our little adulterer is quite the lush," he murmured.

Raising her eyebrows disapprovingly, Trinket turned her attention back to the still-giggling Alice. "How are you doing with regard to that, Miss Alice?"

"Oh, very well. I've been able to keep it from my lady's maid by wearing socks to bed and donning my stockings before she comes in to dress me. And my husband is so mechanical and routine in our nights together that he doesn't even suspect. It's all worked out perfectly."

Trinket's cheeks flushed slightly at that last bit of unnecessary information, but she forced a smile all the same. "And what about He—"

"Lauretta, what are you doing out here?"

The loud whisper was followed by a short gentleman in rather tight-fitting trousers and a baggy frock coat. Though not quite as giddy as Alice, the pink in his olive face and the slight wobble to his step suggested he, too, had been imbibing.

Alice's entire being seemed to glow at seeing him. "Ernest, darling! Where have you been?"

"In the coatroom waiting for you like you told me to. What happened?"

"Look who I've run into!"

The gentleman turned to Booker and Trinket, and his face fell. "Miss Trinket. Mr. Larkin. Wha—"

"Good evening, Henry," Trinket said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

The terrified man's eyes flickered to Booker as he attempted something like a smile. "G-good evening. W-what brings the two of you here? Tonight? To this, ah, lovely occasion? Of, ah—"

"Don't worry, old chap," Booker said, slapping Henry on the shoulder and nearly knocking him over. "We're not here to collect any further payment."

"We were invited," Trinket added.

Alice gasped. "Is the bride or groom one of your patients? Does she have a mechanical foot? Or hand? Or maybe the groom has an enhanced, mechanical—"

"No, nothing like that," Booker interrupted.

Trinket let out a relieved breath, not wanting to hear what the tipsy Alice believed Merrill had mechanically enhanced.

"Oh, it doesn't matter anyhow," Alice said, waving her hands and slopping what was left of her champagne onto the floor. "You're here, it's wonderful, we couldn't be happier."

"I wasn't aware she was the hostess," Booker said under his breath.

"Come along, come along, let us show you inside," she went on.

Henry gently gripped her arm. "But my love, what about the coatroom?"

Fluttering both her fan and her eyes, Alice gave him a saucy smile. "The night is young, my sweet. No need to rush. Besides, the wait only builds anticipation, if you know what I mean."

Henry leaned in closer and curled a strand of Alice's chestnut hair around his finger. "Are you wearing silk stockings?"

She peered over her fan teasingly. "Why don't you check for yourself?"

Lifting her skirt slightly, she coaxed his hand under the petticoats and up her thigh, causing the gentleman's ears to burn bright red.

Booker gagged, and Trinket cleared her throat loudly as she looked away, hoping the two lovebirds would remember they were not alone. It seemed to work, as Henry pulled his hand away and fiddled with his cravat while Alice fanned her pink cheeks.

"Anyhow, come along. Let us accompany you into the festivities," Alice said, gesturing for them to follow her and Henry down the hall.

Letting out a long sigh, Booker turned to Trinket and raised his eyebrows. "They haven't changed a bit."

Trinket linked her arm through his and led him after the amorous couple. "No, but I suppose character development isn't for everyone."

Alice and Henry brought them into a small banquet hall lined with tables of food and drink. A stringed quartet played on a raised stage in a far-off corner of the room while several couples danced along to the music. The room was just as elaborate as the foyer, but the marble tiles here were a soothing blue-grey with swirls of faded white, giving the illusion that the guests were walking on a stormy sky. Powder blue wallpaper with a silver damask pattern completed the elegant look, creating the perfect venue to celebrate a marriage.

The flowery perfumes and musky colognes from the guests lingered in the air, making Trinket's head spin. Although, maybe the effect was more from anticipation. Because somewhere in this crowd of gowns and suits was her family. Her parents. More specifically, her mother.

Run. Just run.

She closed her eyes, willing the voice away despite how tempting its suggestion was.

"Lord, how can a person tolerate this many people?" Booker mumbled.

"The Seymours are very well-connected," Alice said, still fanning her pink cheeks. "And very respectable. The groom's father oversees several factories, and his son has been assisting him with the work. And his mother is one of the most proper ladies I've ever laid eyes on. Always dressed to the nines in the latest fashion. Never a hair out of place. Never a misspoken word."

"That sounds like her," Trinket sighed, scanning the crowd.

"Do you know Mrs. Seymour?" Alice asked.

Trinket's heart squeezed tight. "You could say that."

"Tell me, Alice, where is your husband this fine night?" Booker asked.

Alice's fanning stopped abruptly as she and Henry exchanged a nervous glance. "Oh, he's likely off enjoying a cigar with his business associates. He's never been much for social events. In fact, he finds them rather silly. If it weren't expected of him to attend, he'd skip them altogether. But one must keep up appearances."

"Yes, you know all about keeping up appearances, don't you?" Booker said with a snide grin.

"Booker," Trinket hissed.

"Honestly, if he'd had the option to skip our own wedding, I think he would have," Alice went on, giving a sad laugh.

"If only," Henry grumbled, snatching a glass of champagne off a nearby table and downing it in a single gulp.

"How was the ceremony?" asked Trinket.

"Oh, simply divine. I wore a gorgeous—"

"I meant the ceremony today."

"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. It was lovely, truly lovely. A little underwhelming in my own opinion, but lovely all the same. Were you not there for it?"

"We were unfortunately delayed."

Alice gave a sly grin. "Ah, I understand. Nothing like a wedding to get one in an amorous way. Isn't that right, my love?"

She covertly leaned in towards Henry and pinched his rear, resulting in a surprisingly high-pitched squeal. "My dove, not here," he whispered, eyes darting about anxiously.

Tittering behind her fan, Alice batted her eyelashes at him.

"Good Lord," Booker mumbled, pulling his pocket watch from his vest.

Something long and pale fell out as he did so, rolling a few inches away.

It was a finger. A human finger.

Not certain if it was real or not, Trinket turned to catch Booker's attention. But before she could, a passing gentleman accidentally kicked the body part towards Alice who, despite being decidedly tipsy, did not fail to notice it.

She let out an ear-splitting shriek, grabbing Henry's sleeve as she stared wide-eyed at the appendage. Her outburst drew several stares. Trinket hurriedly scooped the severed finger up with her handkerchief and stuffed it into her pocket. She glared up at Booker who responded with a sheepish smile.

"Whoops. I was wondering where that went," he said, holding out his hand. "I can take it if you'd like."

Alice gasped as she pointed at Booker's open palm. "Mr. Larkin, is that your finger?"

"My finger? What—"

He glanced down at his hand, and Trinket had to suppress a laugh when she realized Alice was referring to the finger he lost to Scales.

"Did it . . . did it just . . . fall off?" Alice asked, her face paling.

"Yes, because fingers often fall off of perfectly healthy young men," Booker snapped with a roll of his eyes.

"But then how—"

"You've been in my laboratory, Miss Alice. This shouldn't be that surprising."

"Is this from that murder victim you dissected a week ago?" Trinket asked.

"No, I think it's from the fellow Jewkes found in the sewers last weekend. It was unusually shaped, and I wanted to take a closer look, so I nipped it off for later but couldn't remember where I'd put it."

"How did Daphne or I not find it in the wash?"

"Well, I don't think I washed this vest after that."

"Are you telling me you didn't even bother to put on fresh, clean clothes for this wedding?"

"I'm sorry, it's hard to keep track of what's washed and what's not when you're busy amputating arms and legs and cutting open corpses."

"Kate!"

Trinket's heart skipped a beat as a familiar voice broke through the chatter of the crowd. She turned and searched through the faces of strangers and old friends until she found him. A smile tugged at her lips.

Merrill wove his way through his guests, Rae by his side. Both were divine in their wedding apparel. Merrill wore a beautifully embroidered teal waistcoat and a silky black cravat to match his perfectly tailored tailcoat. As for Rae, she was the very epitome of a blushing bride. Her white wedding gown was layered in two skirts, the first gracefully pooling about her feet and the second ending at her knees, giving it a playful spark. A long and delicate veil of peach silk and white lace sat atop her strawberry locks, bringing out the little pink roses sewn to the neckline of her dress as well as the pink in her cheeks. Excitement and joy radiated off them both as they tightly clutched each other's hands.

"Kate, you're here!" Merrill exclaimed, pulling her into an embrace.

"Of course I'm here," Trinket said, trying to speak around the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat. "We wouldn't have missed it for anything."

"Not even a murder victim," Booker said.

Merrill released Trinket and gave a strained smile. "Mr. Larkin, always a pleasure," he said, offering Booker his hand.

Chuckling softly, Booker accepted it and gave it a firm squeeze. A little too firm based on Merrill's wince. "An absolute pleasure, Mr. Seymour."

"Boys," Rae said, putting an arm around Trinket. "Let's behave, yes? This is a time for celebration, not childish bickering."

Booker and Merrill released each other's hands and stepped back politely. "Of course, my love," Merrill said, gazing adoringly at his bride. "It is your day, after all."

"Our day," Rae corrected. She turned to Trinket and pulled her closer with an excited squeal. "Oh, I'm just so thrilled you're here. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"It was a lovely ceremony, Mrs. Seymour," Alice said. "The finest I've ever seen. Truly. Like a fairytale. Wasn't it, Mr. Pettitt?"

Henry smiled at the happy couple. "It was exquisite. Congratulations to you both."

"I was so nervous," Rae said as Merrill made his way back to her. "I was sure I was going to trip over my hem or tear my veil or throw-up. I didn't look green, did I? Oh, I'll just die of embarrassment if I looked green."

She anxiously glanced at Trinket, as if looking for reassurance that she had indeed not been green during her marriage ceremony. The marriage ceremony Trinket and Booker had completely missed. A fact that would likely break her sister-in-law's heart.

Before she could even scramble to find a way to get around the truth, Booker stepped forward. "Mrs. Seymour, you were absolutely breathtaking. And in my professional medical opinion, there wasn't a tinge of green to be seen. A perfectly healthy and beautiful bride."

Rae looked like she might burst with joy, her smile taking up nearly half her face. "Thank you, Mr. Larkin."

"Come now, we're practically family. I think we can ditch the formalities."

"Does that go for the both of us, Booker?" Merrill asked, raising an eyebrow.

The muscle in Booker's jaw twitched, but he pasted on a grin and nodded politely. "Of course, Merrill."

They stared each other down for a long, awkward moment. Worried about causing another scene, Trinket cleared her throat and decided to sacrifice herself to keep the peace. Besides, she could only avoid this for so long. "Merrill, could I have a word with you? Alone?"

Both men's eyes flickered to her. "Of course. Is everything all right?" Merrill asked.

She nodded quickly, although the sick fluttering in her stomach said otherwise. "Yes, yes, just wanted to give you some sisterly advice. You know, seeing as I'm the more experienced one with regard to this marriage scheme."

He laughed softly and took her arm. "Ah, yes, the wise, old married woman," he said, leading her to a more secluded corner of the room.

"Wait, she's his sister?" Henry said.

"Wait, you two are married?" Alice exclaimed.

"Interesting young woman," Merrill said as they left the boisterous group behind. "Sweet, but there's something just a tad overwhelming about her."

"Yes, I think Booker would readily agree."

"So what sage advice do you have for me, little sister? Never go to bed angry? Or always start the day out with a quiet meal together?"

"Yes, and never forget to check your pockets for loose appendages before attending a formal gathering."

Merrill furrowed his brow. "That's oddly specific. And disgusting."

"I actually wanted to speak with you regarding something else. Someone else. Well, two someone elses . . . someones elses? No, that's definitely not it . . ."

Oh Lord, she was already babbling. How was she going to do this?

"Kate, what—"

"I think it's time."

The crease between his eyes deepened. "Time? Time for what?"

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

Stop! Don't do it! You'll ruin everything!

No, she couldn't keep running away. She had to face this.

She had to face them.

"Mother and Father," she said, each word heavy on her tongue.

Merrill's spicy green eyes widened. "Oh. That. Wait, are you sure?"

She nodded, glancing about the room nervously. "Yes, I've been preparing myself for weeks. But I don't want to make a scene on your special day, so if you'd like, I can—"

He shook his head and gently cupped her cheek. "Don't even worry about it. Besides, I owe you after letting you suffer in that horrible place for so long."

"Merrill, you don't owe me anything."

"And I know Rae is eager to see our family reconciled."

Trinket frowned. Reconciliation was asking for a bit much.

"Come on, I'll go with you. I think they're over by the quartet."

He took her hand and led her towards the musicians. As they drew closer, the conversation and music filling the room grew muffled with each step. Like they were underwater. They were moving at an agonizingly slow pace and yet were arriving at their destination far too quickly.

Run.

Trinket's pulse pounded in her ears, her face flushed and her fingers tingling with numbness.

Run.

She couldn't feel her lips. Or her tongue. They were like ice. And yet her cheeks were on fire.

Run!

They were right. The voices were right. This was a terrible idea. What was she thinking? There was no possible way that her parents would respond with anything but horror and reproach. What if they called the police? Or sent her back to Elysium? She couldn't go back there. She couldn't. Even if she belonged there, she just couldn't bear it.

The urge to flee took over, and she clutched her skirts, preparing to escape. But before she could even decide which way to run, she was distracted by something stiff and cold in her pocket. Oh. Right. The severed finger. She'd already forgotten she stashed it in there.

She glanced over her shoulder and managed to catch a glimpse of Booker. He was still with Henry and Alice, and though she could see right through his polite smile, she knew he was trying his hardest to mingle and behave.

For her.

He was here for her. He was enduring the company of people he couldn't stand and forcing small talk for her sake.

Releasing a slow breath, she turned back to Merrill with new determination. Her parents could call the authorities and threaten her as much as they wanted. It didn't matter. Because she knew Booker would risk life and limb to keep her safe. She'd done it for him, and she knew he'd do it for her, just as he had countless times before.

This will be different. This will be worse. This will be—

"Mother, Father, may I have a moment?"

Trinket drew in a sharp breath as a middle-aged man and woman turned to face them. The man was tall and burly, his neatly trimmed beard and slicked-back hair more grey than brown. His warm, chestnut eyes crinkled at the corners, though they held a glimmer of pride and judgement in their gaze.

As for the woman, she was just about the same height as Trinket, perhaps a hair shorter. Her faded blonde hair was tied into a dignified knot at her nape and seemed to sparkle in the light due to the number of white strands scattered throughout. There was a noticeable lack of lines around her pale blue eyes, suggesting a life void of much laughter, although her lips curled up ever so slightly at the sight of Merrill. But then she noticed Trinket, and any trace of joy vanished from her face.

"My boy, you've chosen an excellent bride," the man said, seemingly oblivious to the woman's shock as he slapped Merril on the arm. "Your mother and I couldn't be happier."

Merrill's gaze darted to the woman, and he gave a nervous smile. "Well, I'm pleased to find you in high spirits. I have a bit of a surprise for you."

He gestured to Trinket, and though the man turned to her with a friendly expression, he seemed lost as to what the surprise was supposed to be. "Is this one of Rae's cousins?" he asked.

The woman's jaw tightened as she gripped the satin skirt of her clearly expensive lavender gown, but she didn't utter a word.

"You don't recognize her?" Merrill asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

But Trinket wasn't.

Run! Run, run, run, run!

"Hello, Mother. Hello, Father," she said softly, barely able to meet their eyes.

Her mother's expression remained unchanged, but her father's cordial smile slowly faded away, his eyes widening as it apparently dawned on him who she was.

There was a long, tense silence filled only by the music from the quartet and the panicked warnings of the voices in Trinket's head.

"Good God, say something," Merrill said. "You haven't seen her in well over a year."

"What sort of sick joke is this?" her mother hissed. "To bring her here in front of all our friends? In front of Rae's family?"

"Mother—"

"We worked so hard to keep anyone from finding out what happened. Moving to another town, hiring an entirely new staff, paying off the authorities. And then you just let her waltz into your wedding celebrations?"

"I invited her," Merril snapped, gripping Trinket's arm protectively. "Rae and I invited her."

"Why? To remind us of our failure as parents? Where did you even find her? How did you know where she was? Why didn't you leave her there?"

"Mother, that's en—"

Trinket laid a hand on his shoulder to silence him. Her mother's eyes were narrowed in utter reproach and contempt, brimming with angry tears. It was hard to see the woman who gave her life glare at her with such hatred. It made her want to shrink back, to curl up into a ball and hide away from the world, from reality. But she was done with avoiding her past. She had to face it.

She had to face it all.

"Mother, I'm sorry," she whispered, taking a step forward.

Her mother stumbled back, shaking her head.

Trinket stopped and laced her fingers together. "I'm sorry that I put our family through so much. Truly, I am. What happened that night . . ."

Her mind went back to that moment, the bloody knife in her hand and Merrill bleeding on the kitchen floor.

She quickly pushed the memory away and focused on her parents. "What happened that night was horrific. And I don't blame you for sending me away. I really don't. You were unequipped to deal with what was happening to me." She took a deep breath, bracing herself. "But so were the people whose care you left me in."

Her mother stood in silence, hands still clenched into fists.

"I wish . . ." She took another breath, desperately trying to keep herself from crying. "I wish you had thought more about my getting better than you did about our family's reputation. I needed help. I don't deny this. But Elysium was not the place to get that help."

Merrill swallowed hard and averted his eyes while her father stared at her, mouth agape. But her mother remained motionless save for the slight twitch of a muscle in her jaw.

"I'd like to make peace," Trinket went on, her throat straining with unspent emotions. "To maybe be a family again?"

Her mother's eyes went wide, but before she could object, Trinket lifted a hand to stop her.

"I'm not asking you to let me live with you or asking you to take care of me. That's not what I'm looking for. I have a home and a husband and a life I wouldn't trade for anything. But it would mean the world to me if we could put the past behind us and move forward."

Another long moment of silence ticked by before her mother let out a strangled cry and rushed out of the room.

Merrill muttered under his breath and apologized to Trinket before chasing after her.

Sighing at her failure to make things right, Trinket went to leave, but a hand gripped her arm and prevented her from going. She peered over her shoulder and found her father gently holding her back.

"You . . . you said you're married?" he asked hesitantly.

She turned to face him again and nodded. "Yes. To a doctor."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A doctor? Is he . . . has he been able to cure you?"

Trinket smiled sadly. "I don't think anyone will be able to cure me. But he supports me and loves me, and that's all I ever really wanted. From anyone."

Hurt flickered across her father's face, but he smiled through it. "I'm glad to hear that. Your mother and I will have to meet him someday."

Gesturing to the crowd, she replied, "He came with me. You're welcome to introduce yourself, though I must warn you, he can be a bit much to take in all at once."

"Perhaps another night. I think I'd best see to your mother right now."

Trinket nodded. "Right. I'm sorry to have upset her like I did. It truly wasn't my intention."

"It's been a rather emotional day for her overall. She'll recover. She's strong and resilient if nothing else."

She'd have to be with you as a daughter.

As he moved to follow after Merrill and her mother, he turned back and looked as though he were about to say more. But then he snapped his mouth shut and gave a curt nod before disappearing into the foyer.

Trinket let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging and her throat relaxing. She did it. She finally did it. For better or for worse, she finally did it.

"Well, that wasn't too bad of a scene," Booker said from behind her.

She spun around and smiled up at him. "No one died, so I suppose there's that."

He laughed softly and put his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and leaned her head against his chest, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of machine oil and chemicals. Not so long ago, that smell would have sent her into a blind panic. Amazing how time could change so much.

Her mother's cold, reproachful glare flashed through her mind.

Trinket flinched. And yet so much remained the same.

She looked up at Booker and sighed as she wrapped her arms around him. "How did you escape from Henry and Alice?"

"Oh, it was quite easy. I just started to describe the latest amputation I performed, and they suddenly were parched and in desperate need of punch all the way on the other side of the room."

Trinket grinned. "My brilliant mad scientist."

"Your sister-in-law, on the other hand, listened very politely and only turned a slight shade of green. But at least it happened after she walked down the aisle."

"All this talk of surgery has me famished. What do you say we forgo the rest of the festivities and find some crumpets and tea?"

"Ah, a woman after my own heart. Oh, wait." He gave a crooked smile. "She already has it."

He leaned down and kissed her gently before taking her arm and leading her out of the banquet hall.

As they moved through the elaborate foyer and to the front door, someone called out to them. They turned and found Merrill hurrying down the stairs. He let out a heavy sigh when he reached them and offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry things didn't go better," he said to Trinket.

She shrugged. "No one called the police or tried to drag me back to the asylum. That's a win in my book."

"Are you leaving so soon?"

"I thought it might be best. This is your day. And Rae's. I don't want my presence to take away from that."

"Kate, you—"

"And I worry if I don't get this finger back to the laboratory, it may begin to smell."

Merrill furrowed his brow. "Finger? Do I even want to know?"

Trinket smiled and shook her head. "Probably not. Congratulations, again, big brother. I couldn't be happier for you."

Merrill pulled her into a tight embrace. "Thank you for coming. I know it wasn't easy for you." He let her go and put out a hand to Booker. "And thank you, Booker. For being there for my sister."

Booker reluctantly took it. "And I always will be."

Someone cleared their throat, and they looked back at the staircase to find Trinket's mother standing on the bottom step, watching the three of them carefully. Her frigid stare passed over each one of them and then landed on Trinket.

Clearing her throat again, she stepped off the stairs and beckoned Merrill over. He cast Trinket a nervous glance and made his way to her. They exchanged a few whispered words, and then her mother pressed a box into his hand and headed back upstairs.

"What was that all about?" Trinket asked when he returned.

"She asked me to give this to you," he said, passing the velvet box to her. "No further explanation."

She stared down at it in confusion. "So she runs out of the room in tears because of my presence and then offers me gifts?"

Merrill shrugged and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her cheek. "I think our parents are far more complex than we ever realized. Anyhow, thank you again for coming, Kate. Once Rae and I return from our honeymoon tour, the four of us will have to get together. I'd love to show you our manor."

Trinket smiled. "We'd love that."

"We would?" Booker said.

She elbowed him in the side, and he let out an oof.

Merrill laughed and gave a nod. "Goodnight. Safe travels."

They waved goodbye as he returned to his wedding celebrations, and as they made their way outside, Trinket examined the gift from her mother. "Do you have any idea what it might be?" Booker asked.

She shook her head. "Not at all."

"Well, as a man of science with excellent deduction skills, I'd say the best way to find out is to open it."

They stopped at the curb, and as Booker hailed a coach, Trinket gingerly opened the box. She let out a soft gasp. A sapphire pendant winked up at her in the moonlight, attached to a gleaming silver chain. Booker peered over her shoulder as she lifted the necklace from the box and gazed at it in disbelief.

"Good Lord, I was not expecting that," Booker said. "Is it hers?"

She nodded. "It's been passed down in my family for generations. It's supposed to go to the eldest daughter when she marries."

The pendant swung back and forth, like the pendulum in the grandfather clock at home. She remembered admiring the necklace as a child, long before the voices had begun to haunt her. Back when her mother had dreams of her becoming a fine lady and marrying a proper gentleman and raising a respectable family. Dreams that would never come true.

Well, at least not how her mother had imagined.

A coach rolled to a stop in front of them, and Booker put his arm around her shoulders. "Blast, I think this means I might actually have to learn how to get along with in-laws."

She glanced up at him and smiled. "You've done rather well with Merrill. I think with a little training, we should be able to tackle my parents."

Booker helped her into the coach as she clutched the necklace and box close to her chest. "I'll try to remember to check my pockets for loose appendages before we do," he said.

He settled in beside her and flashed her a playful grin. The driver urged the horses forward, and as the coach began to roll down the street, Trinket placed the necklace back in its box and tucked it away in her pocket. She then leaned her head on Booker's shoulder and released a satisfied sigh.

Maybe there was hope for reconciliation. Someday.

She suddenly lifted her head off of Booker's shoulder and looked up at him in a panic. "Booker, you didn't really make my brother and Rae a skeleton coat rack, did you?"