“He’s quite angry,” adds Breeda.
As one of the guards creeps forward, the djinn’s face clouds over with a snarl and he lifts his hands. Dust and sand begin to rise at his feet.
Foxglove whirls toward me and Aspen. “Tell the guards to stand down or he’s going to attack again.”
“Then why should they stand down?” Aspen says through his teeth.
Foxglove wrings his hands. “He’s clearly Bonded to the palace and trying to protect it. We must speak with him.”
Two orbs of dust have gathered in the djinn’s hands and are growing larger by the second. His eyes flash from one guard to the other.
Aspen lets out a grumble, then shouts at his guards, “Stand down!”
The guards falter, freezing in place. The djinn doesn’t lower his arms, keeping the enormous orbs of sand hovering over his palms.
Foxglove swallows hard. “I’ll go speak with him.”
Lorelei whips her head toward her friend, burning him with a glare. “Why you? I’m her ambassador. I should speak with him.”
He flushes. “My dearest Lorelei, while I respect your new position and am confident in your abilities, this situation must be handled with care.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You aren’t the friendliest with strangers,” he says with a grimace.
She pops a hip to the side, narrowing her eyes. “As ambassador, I will be…friendly…just fine.”
Foxglove raises a brow. “Really? Can you honestly say you’re planning on going up to the very male who just attempted an attack on your queen and speak to him with courtesy and calm?”
The two are locked in an icy standoff, neither saying another word. For a moment, I worry my decision to appoint Lorelei as my ambassador may have created an unforeseen complication—pitting the two friends against one another. I’m about to intervene when Lorelei’s lips pull into a smirk. “Good point.”
Foxglove nods triumphantly. “Well, then—”
“Actually, I should be the one to speak with him,” says Breeda, bobbing toward foxglove. “I am a fellow fire fae. He’ll listen to me.”
Before another argument can erupt, I say, “You both should go. Now.” I then raise my voice and address the djinn. “I am sending an ambassador and a fire sprite to speak with you in a peaceful exchange of words.”
For a tense stretch of silence, the djinn makes no move to lower his threatening orbs of sand. Then finally, he returns his arms to cross his chest and the sand crashes to his feet. “Very well.”
Foxglove sighs and removes his spectacles, rubbing them on his burgundy jacket before replacing them. His efforts seem to have done nothing but smear a layer of dust over the lenses. With trembling fingers, he runs his hands through his damp, dirty, brown tresses, which only makes his hair stick up at odd angles. “How do I look?”
The hope in his eyes catches me off guard. “You look…”
“Flustered,” Aspen finishes for me and grunts a laugh.
“Well, do you see his arms?” Foxglove says. “He could completely crush me in them.” Despite his words, I’m almost certain there’s wistful excitement in his eyes, not terror.
Realization settles over me; I’ve seen that expression before. “You fancy the djinn, don’t you?”
Foxglove blushes, a sheepish grin tugging his lips.
“But I thought you fancied Franco.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Forget Franco.”
“A motto to live by,” Aspen mutters with a smirk.
I roll my eyes. “Just go.”
