Bishop rushed inside, already speaking. “Your Royal Highness, I just heard royals were spotted…” He trailed off and then snapped his mouth shut at the view before him.
King Athon pinched two fingers together in front of his face, muttering, “You’re a wee bit late, Bishop.”
Queen Mikko snickered and then quickly choked. Her brown, swirling mist eyes rounded on her face as she stared outside the door—closest to it and capable of seeing out into the hallway. Whatever she noticed had her petite features completely shutting down in a hurry.
“Yes, it appears I am.” Bishop waved a hand at the entrance. “But I wasn’t late for this. The Misfits are here, and they wish an audience with you.”
Tension instantly buzzed around the five rulers.
They slowly glanced at one another. Silent.
King Athon inhaled heavily and dipped his head down, stating respectfully, “Allow them entry.”
Bishop’s nostrils flared as he turned back to the entrance, his honey-brown, solid gaze snagging on his king’s desk. He quickly masked his thoughts, shuttering his gaze swiftly, before looking out the door. He announced, “King Athon will see you now. You may come in.”
The ghastly Misfits trudged inside with their abnormally large, brown eyes scanning the shifter king’s personal office. Their clothes were just as tattered as before on their tiny, green bodies that were dotted with hideous moles—seemingly, the same clothes they had worn before, perchance all the time. The Misfits’ long noses swung side to side as their heads turned to and fro in their inspection. One carried an ancient book under his scrawny right arm.
Bishop exited quietly, the door clicking shut.
Gold Louie ticked a finger at each royal, stating in his high, childlike voice, “One, two, three, four, five…”
Blue Louie growled softly under his breath, his voice low, and so deep I had to listen closely. “Louie, you fucked up. There’s one missing.”
Gold Louie and Blue Louie glared at Red Louie.
Black Louie stood still and stared straight ahead with no emotion, not interrupting their banter or caring what they said.
My stomach cramped in frustration. I should be out there.
“Who are you speaking of?” King Traevon asked—even though he already knew. Father lifted his nose into the air, fierce protection radiating off him. “The rulers are all here. I don’t believe we need anyone else right now.”
“Hmm. Mayhap, I did make a mistake,” Red Louie hummed, ignoring my father and tapping one bony finger on his lips. The gremlin started walking around the rulers, his lips twitching behind their backs while he peered straight at me, into my spying eye. The Fae damned gremlin winked at me and then circled back around the rulers to stand by his brothers again. “But that is an easy fix. Princess Trixie is supposed to be here for this.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. I didn’t like the sound of that.
Neither did Father.
King Traevon snapped, “My heir is sure to be sleeping peacefully right now. Leave her be. I will tell her about what we discuss tomorrow morning.”
Gold Louie lifted a bronze statue—a small tiger—off one of the stone tables nearby and started gnawing on it with his sharp teeth. His high-pitched voice grated on my already frayed nerves. “Just fix it, Louie. I’m getting hungry.”
Red Louie chuckled softly and closed his eyes. “She may not appreciate this. I believe she is busy right now.”
I grabbed at my throat in panic. What was he doing?
A peculiar tingle spread inside my chest…
Abruptly, I blinked—dumbfounded—not understanding. I was now staring at the stone floor beneath me. I was on my hands and knees, my legs spread wide, and multiple pairs of feet surrounded me. I blinked again in astonishment, finally comprehending what had happened, and shot my head up with enormous, shocked eyes.
The rulers and the Misfits stared down at me.
I was right in the middle of their circle.
King Elon gurgled in his throat, tipped his head back fast, and kept his gaze on the ceiling, his long, shamrock green braids falling past his waist.
Queen Mikko quickly placed her hand over her mouth, mumbling under her breath with barely restrained humor, “I…don’t believe she was sleeping.”
King Elon snorted hard—still staring at the ceiling.
