Page 113 of Her Feral Beasts

There are three black Animus Academy SUVs in the driveway. Two guards head to the first car and the other two to the third. I walk around to the passenger side of the middle car.

“No driver today?” I say to Lyle half-heartedly. The first day he came to get me, I thought him an arrogant asshole for bringing a driver.

“Not today, Miss Aquinas,” he says.

I open my own door and am about to slide into the passenger seat when he says in a clipped voice. “Sit in the back.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, Miss Aquinas. The accused sit in the back.”

I don’t know why it makes my eyes burn. Perhaps that title is a low jab. But silently, I obey, though it’s a little difficult to do the seatbelt up with my hands restrained. Finally, our little criminal convoy is ready.

“What, no comeback?” he says as releases the handbrake and starts off.

“Not today, Mr Pardalia.”

We sit in uncomfortable silence for the entire two hours it takes to get to the city. I end up just tilting my head back and closing my eyes, pressing my cheek against Henry’s as he vibrates comfortingly.

I’m a little annoyed that Lyle won’t even make conversation in the car, even just to berate me. He only speaks when he parks the car in front of the imposing glass and stone building that is the Court of Beasts.

When I open my eyes, the sight of the courthouse fills my heart with a full and complete dread.

Because what I didn’t prepare for is the gaggle of journalists waiting before the marble steps.

I seize up, staring at the three sets of cameras and journalists pertly dressed with microphones at the ready. One of them is marked ‘Animalia Today.’

But then Lyle is at my window, blocking my view, his face made of stone and cold as ice as he opens the door, reaches over me to unbuckle the seat. I get one delicious whiff of his cologne and it settles me, a tiny bit.

He tugs on my elbow. “Let’s go, Miss Aquinas.”

Henry croons and I nod, sliding out of the leather seat in the most ladylike way possible, keeping my knees pressed together. Lyle’s hand is firm around my elbow as the guards surround me and we begin walking up to them.

Cameras are angled upon me from all sides.

“Aurelia!” one of the female journalists shouts. “Why did you kill Charles Halfeather?”

“Did you want his money, Miss Aquinas?” cries another.

“Would you like to make a statement, Aurelia?” A woman shoves her microphone at me. They never get far though, because luckily, Lyle chose the biggest guards for today and their big bodies won’t let anyone through.

We’re through the glass doors markedCouncil of Beasts, in gold and get checked through the metal detectors in no time.

Animalia have our own courthouse in the city because it needed to be fortified in case we throw a tantrum and break something. The front doors are fortified steel, and I know that inside, the benches and stands are made of titanium, not wood.

We’re through the gates and walking through the intimidating marble hallway. The ceiling is arched, and because the council has a flair for the dramatic, there are intricate sculptures of lions, wolves, bears and dragons all eating each other. I can’t help but notice, though, there are no serpents in the mix.

“You didn’t tell me the media would be here,” I say accusingly to Lyle, looking down at his hand still on my elbow.

His jaw tightens. “I didn’t know they would be. Someone tipped them off.”

“One guess as to who—”

From the other side of the corridor, a group of men step around the corner, all swathed in black. And in their lead is a man, tall and lean.

Dressed in a long black coat, business shoes, and black shirt and slacks, my father has always cut an intimidating figure. Though he stands straight at an intimidating height, his shoulders are sort of hunched and the shadows under his eyes are deep. Despite this, there is always a feeling of power writhing through him, like you can see the king cobra rearing up, staring at you straight in the eye, and that at any moment, he might strike.

A step behind him is my great uncle, the famous lawyer, a broad-shouldered man in his late sixties with a full beard and a gold hoop in one ear.

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