"Princess Seren," a sidhe man slid between me and my escape route. He was tall and thin, very prim looking, with his long corn husk hair pulled back in a braid. I tried to smile at him but my face was getting tired of smiling and my gaze drifted past him to the safety of the high table.

As soon as the dancing had begun, the offers of partners had started arriving. Man after man had approached the high table and asked to dance with me with varying degrees of poetic pleasantry. ...