Basil cleared his throat—quiet, dignified, and somehow sounding like an owl swallowing a mouse.
“Lucy,” he said. “We have… news.”
The Baroness beamed. “We got married!”
Lucy’s jaw dropped so fast it nearly cracked against the floor.
“You— You what?”
“Married,” Basil repeated, adjusting his tie awkwardly. “Just now. By the king. Who is… coping.”
King Arcturus groaned softly into his hands.
Lucy pointed at the Baroness. “But— But you— You’re in WHITE!”
“I know!” the Baroness said happily. “I look darling.”
Lucy pointed at Basil. “And YOU—!”
“Yes,” he said with an uncharacteristic smile. “Apparently I do, too.”
Lucy stared between them, trying to understand.
“Wh—why am I here?”
“Oh!” Irene clapped. “Because we’ve adopted you!”
Lucy screamed.
Not loudly.
Not fearfully.
Just a very long, spiraling scream of existential dismay.
King Arcturus winced.
“You’re what?” Lucy shouted.
“Your new parents,” the Baroness said proudly. “Baroness Irene Levon and Sir Basil Levon—oh stars, that sounds so good.”
Basil nodded, looking as though he was analyzing the structural integrity of the moment.
“We thought it appropriate,” he added. “Since Irene can not have children—”
Lucy choked. “Oh—Okay—We’re just dropping more lore like it’s nothing—”
The Baroness nodded graciously. “It’s why I never married before. Well, that and I was hopelessly in love with Basil, and he was busy suffering in the archives.”
Basil blinked. “Accurate.”
King Arcturus looked at Lucy with the dead eyes of a man who had been emotionally overwhelmed for too many consecutive hours.
“So,” he said flatly, “by the authority vested in me, et cetera et cetera—Lucy Levon, you are now Baroness of Rosewick.”
Lucy’s soul re-exited her body.
“I’m a what?” she shrieked.
