Devyn appears at my elbow, and my mother's face lights up even brighter.
"There he is! The man of the hour." She actually reaches out and pats his arm, and I watch Devyn's expression flicker with something that might be alarm. "Thank you for flying me out here. It means the world."
"Of course," Devyn says, and his voice is stiff. Uncomfortable. "Bailey's family is my family now."
"Oh, listen to him." My mother turns to me, pressing a hand to her heart. "Isn't he just perfect?"
I look at Devyn. He looks at me. Something passes between us—some shared acknowledgment of the absurdity.
"He's something," I say.
My mother beams like I've confirmed all her romantic suspicions.
Someone whisks her away to meet the Baron of something-or-other, and I'm left standing beside Devyn.
“Your mother...”
I nearly laugh. It’s so like my mother to leave even someone like Devyn at a loss for words.
"She hugged me."
"I saw."
"She told me I have kind eyes."
This time, I can't help it. I laugh. "She tells everyone that."
He looks at me sideways. "She seems happy."
"She is happy. She thinks this is a fairy tale."
"And you?" His voice drops. "What do you think it is?"
I don't have an answer.
Before I can try to find one, the man from the ceremony appears at my elbow.
The handsome one. Up close, he's even more striking. Dark hair artfully tousled, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes warm and sympathetic in a way that feels almost too perfect.
"Your Majesty." He takes my hand before I can react, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "What a pleasure to finally meet you. You must be completely overwhelmed."
"I'm sorry, have we—"
"Amos Karp." His smile widens. "I'm a friend of your husband's. Well, an associate, anyway."
Something about the way he saysfriendmakes me think they're anything but.
"It's nice to meet you," I say.
"The pleasure is mine, truly." He hasn't let go of my hand. "I can only imagine how strange this all must be. Thrust into our world with no warning, surrounded by strangers." His expression turns sympathetic. "If you ever need a friend at court, someone to help you understand how things work here, I hope you'll consider me."
It's a kind offer. The words are kind, the tone is kind, his face is kind.
So why do I feel like I'm being circled by a shark?
"That's very generous," I start, but I don't get to finish.
A hand lands on my waist. Warm. Possessive. Familiar.
