Page 23 of The Shattered Kingdom
“I’m asking to return home because my family loves and misses me. Lill and I already discussed this, and she agreed it would be best if I returned home. I don’t belong here.”
Abby chews at the dead skin on her bottom lip. She needs to drink more water.
“Am I a prisoner, then?” Abby blurts out.
I blink. Does she think she’s a prisoner? I haven’t offered to send her home, but I’ve been under the impression that she wants to be here. She’s protective of Lillian, and she hasn’t mentioned anything about returning to the human realm before today.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’ll have a portal readied for you assoon as we confirm Lillian’s claims.”
“And when will that be?” Mason asks. He’s taunting me.
I clench my jaw. “Soon.”
I won’t force Abby to stay, not when she has a life in the human realm she wishes to return to. It’s probably dull and monotonous, but it’s hers. I just wish to re-read the report and discuss the findings with my mother and Anox before making any decisions. I’m thorough, a trait Mason could stand to pick up.
I eye the bodice of Abby’s dress as Mason resumes flicking through Lillian’s file. I’ve asked for a small handful of garments to be delivered to her and Lillian, and today, Abby chose a summery, white dress. The sleeves are thin, and the fabric hugs her chest and torso before flaring at the waist.
It complements her shape.
Abby’s brown eyes narrow, and I look away before she says something snarky. I’ve never known somebody with brown eyes, and it’s quite exciting. The men of court have also noticed, if Lord Bishop’s reports are anything to go by. He was discussing her during the council meeting yesterday, happily sharing the details being spread about her.
People suspect we found her in the forest and brought her here out of pity. Some believe her to be secretly working for the shifters, but most don’t agree. They don’t think a human is capable of that.
“Do you intend to join the meeting this morning?” I ask Mason. “We’re looking to discuss your coronation.”
The coronation that’s taking place tomorrow afternoon. We’re announcing it later this morning, and I anticipate our statement will be met with a healthy amount of panic and outrage. We can’t put it off any longer, though.
“I’m leaving now,” Abby decides. “Let me know when you’re ready to send me home.”
She brushes her hands down her dress before spinning toward the door. Faeries wait until I excuse them, and I can’t help but smile at Abby’s rudeness. She’d make a terrible faerie.
Mason worries his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze darting between me and Abby. The human takes notice.
“I remember how to get back,” she says. “I’ll make a right at the courtyard, and when I can’t go straight any longer, I’ll turn right again.”
Mason frowns, and Abby looks pleased with herself as she throws her hair back and storms out of the room. She slams the door shut behind her, which I think is an attempt to anger Mason. It doesn’t work.
“Why did you lie to her?” he asks.
I shrug. “I had my men look into Lillian’s claims, and they found that—”
Mason lifts his arm, showcasing the file he’s been flipping through. “I can read. Lilly’s been drinking delysum to stay alive, and Abby’s parents have confirmed that Callie died several years ago. Lilly is telling the truth.”
He sets the file down, his fingers brushing against the top drawer of my desk as he pulls away. I twitch. It’s a slight movement, one I shouldn’t have made. Mason’s too perceptive, and I know I’ve been caught when he cocks his head to the side. His eyes roam over my face, but I keep my expression neutral.
“What’s in there?” His voice is heavy with accusation.
I blink. “Nothing.”
Mason lunges. I dart forward, trying to stop him, but he’s already ripping open my top drawer. The wood splinters, and everything falls to the floor.
The tiara I stole from Abby’s bedroom snaps as it lands on the ground, and the peanut container she used in the woods falls alongside it. I ignore both as I reach for the red fabric hidden inthe back of the drawer. Mason reaches it first. I doubt he even realizes what it is, but it’s red and I was going for it. That’s enough for him.
Shame warms my cheeks as I snatch the fabric out of his hand.
“Don’t touch my things,” I snap.
Mason stares at my hands for a long moment before meeting my gaze. His pupils are fully expanded and his shoulders are quivering, both telltale signs that he’s holding back a shift. He knows what the red fabric is, and it’s not hard to guess to whom it belongs.
