Frelsi flits into the space between us, hands on her hips. Chirping, she declares, “Is itcharming? Watch yourself before you make assumptions. Who are you, buddy?”
Cael’s white robes shift as he draws a hand to his chest. “Forgive me my manners. My name is Cael. I’m a friend of Willow’s. Dani and I met before, albeit too briefly to consider it a true meeting. I take it she’s your origin? I can sense the traces of her scent in your magic.”
Frelsi sticks her nose in the air. “Idon’t have to tellyouanything.”
Cael hums. “I see.”
I’m totally understanding why Castor considers this manself-righteous. He oozes propriety with a clear focus on appearance that seems to rival my mother’s.
After several calculating moments, Cael turns his attention to Willow, who now appears to be taking landscape photos of the scene before her. He asks, “How did you manage to liberate her from Castor’s domain?”
“Didn’t.” Willow presses the lock button on her phone and stuffs the device in a pocket of her frilly skirt. “He dropped her off earlier.”
Cael’s brows rise. “What?”
“Said he hadbusinessto take care of and asked me to babysit. Naturally, I agreed since I knew I’d be bored once Zy left to do stupid things without me. This is what happens when you make my dear sweet kitty investigate something top secret…and leave me so very unsupervised.”
Patient disapproval mars Cael’s expression before he sighs. “I will perhaps never understand anything that goes on inside Castor’s head. Regardless.” He extends a hand to me, all grace and elegance. “Come, little one. Let’s get you some actual clothes.”
I look down at my dress, skate my fingers over the jewel-toned reams of silk. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Don’t tell me.” Willow’s eyesspark. “That isscandalous.”
“It is not funny,” Cael states, clenching his hand into a fist. “It’s inappropriate.”
“Please.These days, Zy makes half my clothes based on rough sketches and Pinterest boards. It’s not a big deal.”
“If Dani hasrequestedto wear Castor’s magic, it’s not a big deal. If she hasn’t, however, and I do suspect as much…”
I blink.
I look down at the fluttery, beautiful dress as delicate and pretty as butterfly wings.
This is Castor’s magic?
I’m wearing Castor’s magic?
That’swhy the options in my armoire are different every day. He makes them out ofmagicand changes them at will. Honestly, that is a much better alternative to the idea that Castor sneaks into my cage without my knowledge and somehow manages to silently switch everything out before I wake up in the morning.
Or. Actually. Maybe it isn’t.
Not if wearing someone’s magic isscandalous.
Is wearing clothes made of his magic like having his hands just…everywhere?
Suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, I say, “Why is it bad that my clothes are made of magic?”
Ripples of concern fill Cael’s eyes. “Because,” he murmurs, so gently that I’m beginning to second guess my initialself-righteousassessment. Maybe he’s justrighteous. I don’t thinkselfhas much to do with the sincere way he’s exhibiting his worry about me right now. With a sigh, he cups a hand to his mouth, and his gaze drifts while he seems to ponder a delicate way to articulate the horrors of the truth.
Willow interjects before he can find the words. “Because Castor could strip you naked like—” She snaps. “—that.”
Oh.
Well.
That is.
…news.
