“Your majesties,” I say, because I know enough of courts and royals to understand respect matters even when I’d rather throw Lord Yelling through a wall, “please forgive me for dropping in without notice.”
A hush falls over the room.
When I lift my gaze, the king and queen sit high on a dais of carved marble. They look nothing alike and somehow perfectly matched. His Majesty is all harsh edges. Her Majesty is softer at first glance, but there’s something ancient in her eyes, something dangerous under all that grace.
“Rise, griffin,” His Majesty says. His voice rings through the room.
I push to my feet.
“Tell us your grievance with this Fae.”
As if given permission to make the situation worse, Lord Yelling jerks against the guards hard enough that one nearly loses his grip.
“Release me!” he snarls. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I was simply?—”
“Wren told you no.”
The words roar out of me before I can stop them. Every face in the room turns my way, but I don’t care. I’m too angry to care about court etiquette anymore.
I square my shoulders and look straight at the royals. “Wren told him no to being his companion, and Lord Yelling pursued him all the way to Hex. He’s been manipulating Wren’s dreams for weeks. Today he showed up at the Summer Festival and got into his head again. He twisted Wren’s mind so badly Wren couldn’t tell me from him.” I throw a hand toward Lord Yelling.
Murmurs move through the court. Shock. A few outright scandalized gasps.
Good.Let them be horrified.
A Fae with long pink hair breaks from the gathered crowd and rushes toward me so fast two guards try to intercept her before apparently realizing who she is. Her eyes are wide and frantic, her hands shaking.
“Tell me Wren’s okay.”
The desperation in her voice hits me. I blink. “You’re his mother?”
She nods too fast. “Please.” Her eyes dart to the throne and back to me. “Please tell me my sweetling is alright. I can’t bear it if he’s been hurt.”
The panic in her expression softens something in me. Wren talks about her with so much love, and I can see exactly why.
“Wren’s okay,” I say quickly. “He’s rattled, but he’s okay. Lord Yelling got into his head at the festival, but Wren came back to himself.”
Mostly because I shifted and snapped the illusion in half. The thought turns my stomach all over again. If I’d hesitatedany longer, what would Lord Yelling have made Wren do? What would he have made Wren believe?
I point at the struggling Fae. “He’s the problem.”
Wren’s mother follows the gesture with a look so vicious I almost take a step back. It lasts only a second before her attention snaps back to me.
“You stayed with him?” she asks. “You helped him?”
My cheeks go hot. “Yeah.” I clear my throat and make myself say it. “Wren and I are dating.”
Her mouth forms a tiny O. Then, to my complete shock, she bounces on her toes and claps.
“Oh!” she squeals. “Oh, my sweetling found someone.”
Heat floods my face. I’m certain I’m red all the way to my ears. Somewhere behind her, I hear a courtier snort into their sleeve.
Wren’s mother grabs my forearm. “You’re very handsome.”
I nearly choke on my own tongue.
“Thank you?” I say, because I genuinely have no idea what else to say to that.
