Rowan takes my hand. “It’s going to be all right. The magistrate won’t believe you would purposely sabotage your own business, not when you have your aunt’s entire estate on the line.”
“I hope not.”
We fall silent, all of us worried about the tea shop’s future.
After a few seconds, Ryder sighs. “I forgot your box of pastries at the bakery. I’m going to grab it, and then I’ll be back.”
As soon as the elf leaves, Rowan pulls me into his arms.
“Two hugs, and we haven’t even opened yet,” I joke, wishing we could stay like this all day.
“I have a quota to fill.”
I smile, my cheek against his shirt. “I’m really happy you still love me.”
He laughs, sounding shaky with relief. “I’m really happy you still love me, too.”
Closing my eyes, I soak in the moment. After several seconds, I say, “I can’t believe there was a lure in the garden. Do you think it’s going to be okay?”
“I do. And no matter what happens, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”
I smile up at him. “Because we’re family?”
He kisses me softly. “Always.”
Chapter 26
Pixie on Trial
TWO WEEKS LATER
When Ash said I’d have to meet with the magistrate in Boston, I imagined a human courtroom like I visited the time I had to appear for jury duty back in Washington. But the room we’re in feels more like a royal chamber, and it’s inside a small estate that could easily be confused for a modest castle.
The fate of my tea shop rests in the hands of an elemental elf I’ve never met before. Alvertos Athelstan Brandyboar wears a respectable three-piece suit and a distracted sort of expression that makes me think he’s pondering what he’s going to have for lunch as soon as we’re finished.
The magistrate doesn’t sit at a bench like a judge, but atop a seat that looks suspiciously like a throne. The ostentatious chair is elevated on a stage-like dais, so the elf sits higher than the rest of the people in attendance, lest we forget he’s the most important person here. There’s even a plush, cream-coloredcarpet runner that bisects the entire hall, leading to the throne. It’s all very royal, pretentious, and undeniably elven.
I’m seated at a long table at the base of the stairs, with Ash by my side. The representatives from the Fae Preservation Society sit next to us. Keith, Elias, and a high fae I haven’t met, whom Ash told me is the society’s director, all showed up for the grand occasion.
Rowan watches from the side gallery seats, along with my parents and Ryder. Nadine stayed behind to watch the tea shop, but I have strict instructions to call her as soon as we’re done here.
You know, as long as I don’t end up in prison.
A mountain dwarf walks to the front of the room and taps a staff on the stone floor twice, sending a shockwave of magic throughout the space. “Please bow for the honorable Alvertos Athelstan Brandyboar, Lord Magistrate of the Maplehaven Court, appointed to this esteemed position by His Majesty, King Kentowen Nigel Hawthorne.”
Thankfully, Ash went over all this with me earlier, so I know what to do. We stand as a group. The men bow at the waist, and the women bow their heads.
“Please sit,” His Greatness instructs, bored. To the society’s representative, he says, “Hello again, Bertrand.”
I exchange a look with Ash, somewhat comforted. It doesn’t sound like he’s terribly pleased to see the man.
“Your Honor,” the high fae director says, “it’s a pleasure, as always.”
“Yes.” With a heavy sigh, the magistrate begins, “I’ve gone over the material the Preservation Society has submitted, and it appears Miss Kathleen Merriweather failed to report gnome presence, a crime for which I’ve found her guilty.”
I suck in a startled breath, not expecting this to move so quickly—and in the wrong direction entirely.
“However,” he continues, “I have a few questions I’d like to ask before I dole out the sentence.”
