Page 37 of Never Been Gargoyled
His wings spread wide, casting shadows on the ground. I'd seen his wings before, but up close like this, they were magnificent. The membrane looked soft as the nicest leather, with intricate patterns of veins running through them.
Before I could quiz him about his wings, we were airborne.
My stomach dropped as we lifted off the ground. I buried my face in his neck with a small shriek, then forced myself to look up. We were already above the treetops, the estate growing smaller below us.
“Oh my,” I breathed.
“Good or bad?” Feydin asked, his arms tightening around me. His wings flapped, creating a breeze.
“Good. Definitely good.” I stared down at the landscape spread out below us. The gardens I'd been working on looked tiny from up here, neat patches of green and brown. “This is incredible.”
“I told you the view was spectacular.”
Sadly, the flight to town took only a few minutes. Feydin landed behind the tea shop and set me down gently on my feet.
“How was that?” he asked, studying my face, his own expression intent.
“Amazing.” I smoothed down my dress, trying to get my bearings. “I can see why you like flying.”
I swore joy flashed across his face before he smoothed it.
“We should go,” he said, smoothing his suit jacket. “We don't want to be late.”
The tea shop was adorably decorated, with cute tables and chairs—all empty, and a counter where they served tea. But I’d already seen they didn’t serve any food. It was a wonder they could stay in business. In fact, this one looked like it was failing.
We found a table near the back where we could see the entrance but still have some privacy. Although, that might not be an issue if they had no customers. My stomach was doing nervous flips, and not the good kind.
“She’s not here yet.”
“That gives us the advantage.” Feydin's lawyer voice was back. “Remember not to volunteer information.Answer her questions as briefly as possible but don't elaborate unless she asks for details.”
“What if she asks something I don't know how to answer?”
“Then you tell her you need to consult with your attorney.” He leaned forward. “That's me.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath and tightened my spine. “I can do this.”
“You can.”
The door chimed and a woman walked in, scanning the room. She was exactly what I'd expected from her photos: polished, put-together, and intimidating as hell. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a perfect chignon, and her navy-blue suit probably cost more than my car.
“That's her,” I whispered.
Feydin turned to look, his expression carefully neutral.
She spotted us and walked over, her heels clicking on the floor. Up close, she was older than her photos suggested, with fine lines around her eyes and a weariness that her makeup couldn't quite hide.
“Ms. Osborne?” she said, extending a manicured hand toward me. “I'm Rebecca Hartwell. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Of course.” I shook her hand, noting her firm grip. “This is my attorney, Feydin.”
Rebecca's eyes widened when she took in Feydin's wings and tail, but she recovered quickly. “Mr…”
“Budiere,” Feydin said smoothly. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hartwell.”
“Likewise.” She settled into the chair across from us, placing a leather portfolio on the table. “I hope you don't mind, but I'd prefer to get straight to business. I'm sure you're both busy people.”
“Not at all,” I said, though my palms were sweating.
