Frilly Dress whirls around the prop table, pretending to fuss and straighten plates. “Come, it’s time for our dinner meeting!”
“Dinner meeting?” the male asks curiously as he sits.
Their voices easily carry over the crowd, either from the acoustics or magic.
Another performer comes bustling out on the stage then—a male with black and gray dots in his hair like a spotted fish. He must be a popular actor, because the crowd cheers wildly as soon as he enters.
“Welcome, welcome! Please, sit!” the frilly female tells him.
“What’s all this about, my sweet?” Green Hair says to her.
“Can’t you see? He’s a Vermin!” the female exclaims excitedly as she sits down.
The spotted-hair male clears his throat. “Vulmin,” he corrects, and then he points at a big wooden emblem hanging around his neck. It’s the symbol of the bird with the broken wing.
A frown digs between my brows.
She waves. “Same thing.”
Laughter sounds off throughout the audience, the wordverminrepeated.
“He’s going to make me a queen!” she goes on excitedly, clapping her hands as she bounces in her seat. She looks perilously close to having her breasts spill out of her low-cut dress—probably the point.
Green Hair frowns. “What are you on about?”
“Well, I’m a Turley, aren’t I?” she says with a huff. “The Vermin say my family should be the ones ruling Annwyn!”
My stomach drops. Shock and confusion whirl through me.
Why are they talking about the Turleys?
He scrunches up his face. “You’re a Turley?” he asks dubiously, then pauses, tapping his chin in thought. “Is that why your tits are gold?”
Crude snickering bursts around me, making me flinch at the people I’m pressed against in the crowd. My pulse stretches, wrapping around my muscles and making them go tense.
“That’s right,” Frills nods excitedly, turning to the fake Vulmin as she runs her hand along her cleavage. “Do you want to see?”
Her question spurs the amusement of the spectators even more. One male next to me shouts at her to give them a flash.
Anger, embarrassment, confusion, it all writhes through my nerves, coiling me tight. But then I remember something.
Cruel, sharp words that sliced through me.
Don’t give them a martyr. Give them a mockery.
My vision nearly tunnels with the words. With the satirical and taunting laughter that seems to be closing in around me.
Green Hair leaps up from his chair and comes around to the actress. “No, he doesnotwant to see.” He lifts Frills up fromthe chair. “Wait a moment, didn’t you have an uncle who took golden shits?”
People in the crowd snicker. My cheeks begin to burn, hands shaking beneath my cloak.
“No!” Frills says indignantly, crossing her arms in front of her to prop up her breasts even more. Then pauses. “It was his piss. Though it was hard to tell.”
Another round of laughter bursts from the city square, while anger boils up my throat and singes the back of my tongue.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m a Turley, so I can be queen! I can have fabulous balls and take everyone’s money and make them all bow to me!” she exclaims ecstatically.
Is this the truth? Is this a real story about my family?
