“Baroness,” her new mother repeated proudly.
“Against my will?”
“That’s how the best titles happen,” the Baroness said.
Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. “But—but what about heirs? Land? Responsibility? Taxes? What if you two have a miracle baby?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Irene said gently. “Even if that were to happen, you are our daughter. And our heir.”
Basil added, “We’ll be traveling for quite some time during our extended honeymoon. Therefore, you will… manage things.”
Lucy felt dizzy.
“I—I can’t be a Baroness. I’m barely functional. I’ve screamed twice today!”
“Yes,” Basil agreed. “You will improve.”
She staggered backward.
Esther slammed into her the second she exited.
“Lucy! You’re alive!”
Lupin leaned dramatically on his sword. “Blink twice if he harmed you.”
Sylva stood closest, ears angled forward, tail still.
Lucy stared at the group. Then declared: “I’m a Baroness.”
Esther froze.
Lupin screamed.
Sylva blinked very slowly, like trying to confirm reality with his retinas.
Vorrik burst around the corner holding the goat from the wedding. “We celebrate! With goat!”
“No goat,” Lucy whispered weakly. “No more goats.”
Sylva stepped forward, expression unreadable.
Quietly, privately, he said,
“You’re still Lucy.”
“Baroness Lucy Levon,” she corrected faintly.
A pause.
His tail flicked.
“I liked you better before the title,” he said honestly.
She glared. “Well, I didn’t ask for it—!”
“I know.” He hesitated. “But… I’m glad you’re staying with the guild.”
Her heart did something unsanctioned.
