“Darling, let’s not be too hasty?—”
One of the glass rectangles floated toward Seymour while Talos and the green man kept arguing. As it lit up with the image of an eerily familiar face in white and blue, Seymour realized the rectangles were screens of some kind. The face smiled, and the other screens followed until they were all hovering above Seymour. “Ah! Mr. Madison. We meet again.”
“Wow, uh… Mr. Talos?” Seymour blinked.
“Yes, yes.” Talos smiled, and it was the same sharky smile as his puppet self. “And I see Sariel is with you. Howquaint. Please! Allow me to introduce Zolrya, King of the Fae.”
The green man barely looked Seymour’s way, far too focused on his argument with the metal man.
Who was also Talos.
Right?
Damn, this was weird.
“I’ve been told that you were successful,” Talos on the screen declared. “Thank you for your patience. My darling’s dances are very important to him. Never a good idea to interrupt him, you know. He can be, mmm, a tadspicy.”
“Right.” Seymour laughed nervously.
Because it was totally normal to turn people into flowers.
Totally fine.
“Do you have my head?” Talos asked with a bright smile.
“Yes, sir.” Seymour glanced at Sariel. “We have it, uh…”
The chest wasn’t with them. Those stupid twins had run off with it.
Fuck.
Seymour really didn’t want to spend the rest of his life as a bunch of petunias.
“Here, my lord,” Absolis declared as he and Vilanos appeared, holding the chest between them.
“We have it right here,” said Vilnaos.
“Here and all yours.”
“All yours.”
Seymour rolled his eyes and muttered, “Great timing.”
“Ah! Excellent.” Talos’s body left Zolrya to come over and examine the trunk.
Zolrya pouted but followed, his hips swishing as he fussed, “What is it, my darling? Why aren’t you paying attention to me?”He clapped his hands, and the throng of dancers disappeared. “Hello? Are you even listening?”
“Yes, my love,” Talos said with the patient sort of tone reserved for cranky children. “Just a moment. We will dance again soon, I promise. This is the little mortal who retrieved my head.”
“Oh!” Zolrya blinked over at Seymour, and he grinned, showing a mouth full of tiny, sharp teeth. “Isn’t he a lovely one?”
“Th-thank you, Your Majesty-ness.” Seymour gulped as he stared up at Zolrya.
Holy fuck, he was tall.
Eight or nine feet, easily.
Sariel’s wings fluttered, and he stepped a bit closer to Seymour.
