"I'm not sure," Marcello said. She sniffled out of habit, even though it wasn't necessary, and burrowed her head against Niabheara. "I'm not, but I...Meg seems to be, and they both say he needs to speak to Seth, and I don't know what about, and I...I miss him. Not him. Little-boy-him."

"Darling, you knew he . . . " She shook her head. "It doesn't make it any better that you knew."

Marcello shook her head back, biting her lip, hard. "No," she whispered. "He...he said he was sorry for whatever he said that was hurtful to you."

Niabheara bit her lip and looked, for a moment, guilty. She stroked Marcello's hair. "I told him that I would rather he be dead as he was then restored to what he is. And he told me that meant I'd rather something be dead and innocent than alive and corrupted. And I thought, he's right, but he's wrong, and he doesn't know how wrong. It isn't fair that he should still be alive, and Tristan dead. So I hit him."

Marcello looked up at her. "Oh, darling," she said. "He...I don't know, love. I...you're right, though. I don't...he may just not understand that. I..." She shook her head. "I just don't know what to say. I don't--" She stopped, and looked Niabheara over. "Are you really all right?"

"I want to go home. I know it won't solve anything; it's just what I always want first when there's too much happening and I don't know how to fix it." She bent down and kissed her, hard and fierce, then stood with her hands cupped behind Marcello's head, looking into her eyes. "Are you all right? What are you feeling?"

Marcello slid her arms around Niabheara's waist. "I...a little glad you're bigger than I am right now," she said quietly. "I don't know," she said. "I don't know what I'm feeling, other than my stomach churning and my heart pounding and emptiness. Meg is saying it's the season affecting me."

"Season or no season, it's enough to spoil anyone's stomach." She kissed her again, this time on the forehead, smoothing the curls away. "Do you . . . do you feel there's something we could have done to keep him, too?"

Marcello winced, and nodded again, and looked up at her. "Do you?" she asked. "I...I feel like we must have done something to have him taken away from us."

"Not this time. This time there wasn't anything we could have done." Except she shouldn't have made the Puck angry with her. That part was hers. She swallowed and hugged Marcello around the waist.