“I would never ask you to reread it, Queen Leila,” Skye shook her head, and for the first time since I’d hired her, I saw the corners of her lips twitch. “I’d have you peruse the sequel, which follows the adventures of ‘Polite Paul’ and ‘Rude Randy’.”
I froze, and even the tantalizing smell of Italian food couldn’t drag me from gaping at Skye with horror. “Are you telling me there’s aseriesof these books?”
“One for every possible mishap, yes.”
I groaned. “That’s awful. You should tell Chase—he can use them as punishment for any wrong-doers.” I turned back to the buffet and pinned my clutch to my side with my elbow as I tried to decide what to go for first. I froze when I peered down to the end of the line and saw heaven: the dessert table.
I swiped up a cannoli, practically slobbering as my stomach rumbled. “Bless the Paragon for hosting the party here.” I closed my eyes in mental preparation—as excited as I was, I couldn’t scarf my food down—then took a big bite of the cannoli. The crunch of the rolled pastry and the smooth sweetness of the cream filling were delicious enough to make me hum in appreciation.
And then I felt the whispery brush of fae magic.
Oh, no.
My throat closed, and I couldn’t breathe.
Chapter Twelve
Leila
Itried to open my mouth to spit the cannoli out, but it felt like my teeth were glued shut.
It was spelled. What do I do?
I dropped my plate, and it shattered on the ground.
“Queen Leila?” Skye asked.
I fumbled with my purse, ripping it open and holding it upside down.
The bear mace fell out with a clank, my silver charm bracelet falling on top of it.
I dropped to my knees—my lungs were starting to burn, and the sweet cream filling was melting in my mouth and dripping down the back of my throat, but I couldn’t clear my airways.
“What’s wrong?” Indigo asked.
I grabbed my charm bracelet, then stared at it in horror.
I couldn’t open my mouth, and I needed to speak to activate my bracelet and cast a dispel charm.
My throat clogged. My heart beat like a drum in my ears.
“Queen Leila?” Skye repeated.
I reached up and grabbed her hand, then pointed from the cannoli to my mouth.
“…I’m sorry?” Skye frowned, thoroughly puzzled.
“Something’s wrong with the food.” Indigo dropped to her knees next to me. “She’s not talking.”
Skye, her forehead wrinkling, twisted her ring which was topped with a pink diamond and muttered under her breath.
Fae magic swirled around the ring, wispy but bright as it sucked the wild magic out of the air and twisted it into something Skye could use.
My vision was blurring and black around the edges.
Skye crouched and held out her hand to me.
The whispery feeling of fae magic intensified, then abruptly faded, as if it had snapped.
