Briony
Beaufort’s big brother has dropped to his knees and is moaning like I tried to skewer him right through the middle with my magic.
“I barely touched you,” I scoff, as he moans and groans in feigned agony, “and you deserved it, you chauvinistic pig!”
There’s a loud and shocked gasp and for the first time I realize not only is everyone staring our way, but we’re surrounded by a circle of smartly dressed guards. Automatically, Beaufort, Dray, and Thorne move to envelop me, their backs turned towards me, their fronts to the guards.
“You attacked him?” the guard from earlier this morning, Sir Cecil, asks me over Beaufort’s shoulder.
“She barely touched him and he deserved it,” Beaufort growls out.
“Whether he deserved it or not is irrelevant here, as you know. Violence in the Empress’s palace will not be tolerated.”
Shit!
“It was hardly violent,” Dray says, trying his usual charm, “she barely touched him. It was simply a bit of fun.”
“It wasn’t shadow magic,” someone from the crowd calls out and when I turn to look, I find it’s Lady Smyte, sneering at me with obvious pleasure. “It was some other kind of magic.”
“Dark magic?” Sir Cecil asks, all of his men raising their hands in unison.
“You know exactly what kind of magic it was,” Beaufort mutters towards him, but the head guard ignores him, keeping his attention on Lady Smyte.
“Yes, dark magic,” Beaufort’s brother whimpers, “it must have been.”
Terse whispering ripples through the crowd, and around me my mates stiffen.
“It wasn’t dark magic,” Beaufort insists, “it was lumomancy. Light wielding.”
Those words echo around the hall, people now bustling among each other to get a good look at me.
“Briony didn’t hurt him …” Beaufort continues, trailing off as the crowd in front of him parts, people bowing their heads, and the Empress herself sweeps forward.
She’s dressed in even more finery this evening, her dress made from a rainbow of colors that shimmer in the light, her hair woven into a spectacular knot on the top of her head and her crown twinkling with rubies, sapphires, and diamonds.
“What is the meaning of this?” she booms, her silver eyes flaring with anger.
“Beaufort’s whore attacked me,” Aaron groans from his knees.
The Empress assesses her older son and then me, before her eyes land on Beaufort.
“We do not remember extending an invitation to your thrall, Beaufort Lincoln. Are we incorrect?”
“No, your imperial majesty,” Beaufort says, bowing down low. Around me everyone does the same, even the supposedly injured man on the floor. Dray nudges me and I manage a not-very-elegant curtsey. Partly because I don’t know how and partly because of these stupid heels Fly made me wear. “But it was urgent that we speak with you.”
The Empress frowns. “We understand that we are meeting with you at the end of this week.”
“That’s not soon enough!” I can’t help but cry out. “We need to talk to you now!”
There’re more shocked gasps and I’m guessing I’ve once again done something awful.
The Empress pays no attention to me, directing her displeasure towards her younger son instead.
“You come to this state event, bringing uninvited guests, you disobey a direct order and you bring violence inside my walls!”
“It’s not his fault!” I persist, because I’ve broken all the rules already, what the hell does it matter? Besides, this isn’t my world – not really! I’ll be damned if I scrape and bow and play nice any longer. Fox is out there somewhere and he needs me. “It’s mine! In fact, Beaufort has tried to have me follow all the rules. Don’t you see, that’s why we’re here! But I can’t wait any longer. I need your permission to go out into the demon realm and I need your permission to take Beaufort and his bond brothers with me.”
A stunned silence grips the hall. You could hear a pin drop. Even the Empress appears somewhat startled, her beautifully sculptured golden brows rising a fraction up her forehead.
