“Then why should she not visit with the Prima? The Prima’s friendship does your mate honor.”
“The Prima may unwittingly give offense,” the sheriff said, squaring his shoulders.
Bran tilted his head to one side—just a little. “Offense? Why don’t you elaborate? Explain how the Prima could possibly offend.”
“She does not know her place,” the mayor said.”
Bran leaned back in his chair. “So, you believe that a little time in my mate’s company will irrevocably corrupt your mate? Is your mate so weak of will, so impressionable that she cannot withstand association with the Prima?”
The female’s eyes widened even as she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. She seemed to shrink, to shrivel within herself.
“Hurvi, escort Mistress Soraia to the Prima’s parlor where she may relax and enjoy some refreshments.”
The female glanced at her mates whose small nods of permission released her from the oppressive weight of the Fangry’s Prime’s disapproval, though she did not sense he disapproved of her. She shivered with dread, for their humiliation at the Prime’s hand would undoubtedly land upon her.
“Oh, hello,” the Prima looked up in surprise. She smiled, which made the other female hesitate and hastily consider leaving the pretty room to which the castratus had led her. The Prima shot a speaking glance at the hulking berserker lurking in a corner and returned her attention to her unexpected visitor. She bared her teeth again and extended her hand toward the other female who looked at it in confusion. The Prima lowered her hand and sighed. “I do apologize.”
The female’s eyes widened at the Prima apologizing to her.
“I forget that you folks don’t smile or shake hands,” the Prima said with a small chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive me for being gauche.”
The female gulped at the concept of forgiving the Prima of any wrongdoing.
The Prima gestured. “Please, have a seat. Would you care for a refreshment?”
The female scurried to the chair and gingerly perched on the edge of the cushion. A castratus dashed forward at an unseen signal from his mistress and filled a small plate with small morsels of delectable treats. The female accepted the plate and wondered what to do next.
Seeing her guest’s discomfiture, the Prima sought to put her at ease. “I’ll have some, too.”
The castratus filled a plate and handed it to her when she reseated herself. The Prima popped a small, bite-sized pastry into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I do love those.”
She leaned forward, balancing the plate on her knee. She smiled again, keeping her lips closed and her teeth covered. The other female responded with a hesitant flicker of an answering smile.
“So, I’m Ursula. What’s your name?”
Fixing her eyes on her lap, the female answered in a soft whisper, “Soraia, my lady.”
Ursula glanced again at Zul.You knew she was coming.
I knew. Bran asked me to make sure you were available to greet her.
Ursula sighed.He could have just asked me.
She felt his amusement.It’s more fun this way.
Hah. Very funny. This poor woman is terrified.She refocused her attention on Soraia. “Please do try the chocolate truffles. I had to work with the chef here for months to get them just right.”
Soraia looked at the confections on her plate in confusion.
“The dark brown ones.”
Soraia carefully picked upon one of the chocolate puffs and bit into it. She chewed, eyes widening again as the flavor filled her mouth.
“Good, aren’t they?” Ursula asked, popping another into her mouth. “The flavor pairs well withti’chal.”
A castratus dashed forward at the mention ofti’chalto pour a dainty cupful and hand it to the Prima’s guest.
Soraia nodded and popped the rest of the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes widened at the rich, decadent flavor. “What is this?”
