Page 117 of Made
“Yes. Please.”
Lochlan called Hengest over and whispered. Hengest nodded then struck his rod against the mosaic floor.
“The bench is dismissed for a brief break. All here will remain in your places.”
I rose and followed Keir out the side door.
Once in my chambers, I unfastened the front of my robe. “Oh, my gods! What was that?”
To his credit, Lochlan didn’t answer right away. He was struggling to refrain from saying he told me so. I felt my mouth involuntarily screwing up like a cartoon and made a correction so that I looked a little less humiliated.When would I learn? Gods strike me down if I ever ignore my clerk again.
A glance at Keir told me that experience, however brief, was even more painful for him. While I’m in the mood to confess, I admit to being too embarrassed to look at him again. Partly because of the smug way I rejected Lochlan’s concern. Partly because I’d been caught lusting after someone other than Keir. My mate’s olfactory assessment of horniness couldn’t be denied.
Two quick raps on the door preceded one of Hengest’s attendants ushering Serafina into my private sanctum.
“Hey, there,” I said.
“Magistrate,” she answered with a smile, eyes going down to my unfastened robe before coming back to my eyes. “How can I be of service?”
I could tell by the twinkle in her dark Italian eyes that she already knew. “Don’t play me, Your Highness. We have a castle court full of people waiting and, no doubt, gossiping. What can you do about this?”
Moving toward me so gracefully she almost appeared to be floating rather than walking, she stopped by the chair where I waited.
“This won’t hurt,” she said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. She lightly touched my right temple. “All done! And it’s permanent. You’ve been inoculated for life.”
I gave off a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Your plaque gets moved to the top of the arrangement until Lammastide.” I was treated to a grin and a half-bow.Wow.It’s nice to be queen. Sometimes it’s better to be magistrate. “And, needless to say, this is confidential.”
Her responding laugh told me that, of all the people in the courtroom, I was the only one who thought my shameful response to the sylph could be covered up.
When I retook my seat, I saw the sylphic smile, that landed somewhere between teasing and contempt, fade from his face until passivity had overtaken all other expression. That was probably for the best if he didn’t want prejudice interfering with the objectivity of my decision.
Retaking my seat with as much dignity as I could muster, I said, “Good morning, Counselor Bogdan.”
He stood and adjusted his capelet. “Good morning, Magistrate.”
“You’re representing the plaintiff, I see.”
“I am. Yes.”
“Please acquaint me with the grounds for the suit from your client’s point of view.” I hardened my tone just a touch. “And be brief.”
“Yes, Magistrate. My client entered into an entirely consensual and remarkably brief affair with an adult daughter of the House of Sforza, who is currently married to Milish Bergatti. Count Bergatti discovered the betrayal in progress.” My eyes went to the defendant of their own accord. As a married woman, I couldn’t help imagining how awful that would be if one was in love with his/her spouse. “When the husband made his presence known to my client, he had a spear-shaped flame thrower inhand. He burned my client’s wing, as you can see. It will take centuries to heal completely. In the meantime, my client’s ability to travel here and there has been sorely compromised.”
“Compromised how?” I asked.
“He is unable to fly above fifty feet. He’s also unable to fly quickly.”
“And what remedy is he seeking?”
“A fully loaded vineyard estate in Estalvia with all expenses and staff paid until his wing is fully recovered.”
I blinked. “That’s pretty specific.” Half-joking, I asked, “Is that all?”
It was clear from Bogdan’s answer that he didn’t get the subtlety of human humor.
“That is all for now,” he said simply and sat down.
Turning to the defendant’s table, I said, “Counselor Murelli. Are you serving as attorney for the defense?”
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