Neely sighed deeply and pulled him back away from the stone. "Puck," he warned, "it is too fucking cold for this. She's the last of the clan. Halfling grandchildren are preferable to extinction. What are you plotting?"

"A little levity to lighten your spirits?" the Puck offered hopefully, bouncing a little now. "I will do it all the most harmless I can! No one hurt, only hilarity. Only what will withhold the wedding. Yes?"

Neely gave the Puck a grim look, his mouth drawing to a fine thin line. "Puck," he said, and stopped, then sighed. "If, and I cannot stress this enough, you are absolutely certain that this will put a halt to this wedding--without killing the countess, without raping the countess, without irrevocably traumatising the countess and turning her off men which will definitely put a damper on the grandchildren--if you can do that, go with my blessings. If any of the above occurs, I will rat you out like a terrier."

The Puck giggled with glee. "I promise you, princeling, I will practice only propriety with your precious poppet." He bowed and held a hand out. "Do we have a bargain?"

"No one said anything about bargains," he said tightly. "Your bargain is that I'm a bastard who doesn't want to see his only child wedded to tallfolk, and I'll conveniently look the other way if anything goes spectacularly wrong. But the rest of the time, I will be looking." He fixed his gaze on the Puck. "I will be looking very, very hard."

The Puck vanished. "Then I will remain invisible," it said cheerily. "Good neighbor to you, Shay! Tomorrow will be a better day!"