“Protocol?” Halvor asked Romulus softly.
Unlike the shifter formation, the leader here took front and center, advertising his status. The most vicious, advanced fighter of the pack hid in the middle, the place usually reserved for vulnerable people.
The guardians had no vulnerable people. Or so Halvor had said when Charity mentioned the shifter way.
Halvor was the secret weapon, as it were, and would explode out to attack anyone stupid enough to threaten the group. Charity had seen him in action twice so far, both times taking out the offending magical creatures by surprise and scattering them or killing them within minutes. The other advantage the maneuver afforded the most advanced fighter was positioning. He could explode out of any side if the situation demanded it.
“Charity,” Romulus said, his fingers twitching. That meant move closer, quickly.
She took her place beside and a little behind her father. The creatures’ dance-walk became less gaudy and more cautious. Their hair settled a little. They kept exactly the same speed.
“Yes, they’ve always had a flare for the dramatic,” her father said, not slowing either. “They like people to notice them, including the grunts. Try to contain your movements. It is better when our adversary doesn’t know what we are thinking.”
She’d thought she had been containing her movements.
“Second,” the lead elf said when they neared, her smile showing large teeth and her skin faintly sparkling in the noon sun. Given the others weren’t also sparkling, Charity thought she must’ve used some sort of sparkly facial lotion or something. “It is exhilarating to see you emerge from the Flush. I am sure the king and queen will be delighted.”
“Yes, of course they will,” Romulus said, and it was as friendly as it was arrogant. “The First has been planning a visit for some time. We must pay our respects.”
The elf’s eyes zeroed in on Charity. “If you’ll forgive the bluntness, Second, we have been instructed to take this…young lady in.”
“Is that right?” Romulus looked down on Charity. “Newly dubbed the Third and already her presence is requested among elf royalty? My goodness. We knew she was a shining star, but this is encouraging indeed. Unfortunately, the royal invitation was not sent out ahead of you.”
The elves shifted, clearly flustered. They weren’t remotely as good at keeping their thoughts to themselves.
“Yes, Second. It is an honor. The invitation…is coming. I think.” The elf took a small step forward and inched her arm out as if to reach for Charity.
“Well, once we receive the invitation, we will be sure to answer immediately with a suitable date. Now, if you’d be so good as to step aside, we have business in the Brink.”
The lead elf swallowed. “Yes, Second. Only, we’ve been ordered to bring her in.”
“I do so hate conversational redundancy,” Romulus said, his small, annoyed movements somehow getting his point across more than his words. He was losing his patience, and a sword would end the monotony.
“We’ve got orders for that one, too.” The elf on the right of the path, reminding Charity of a very pretty and dainty thug, pointed into the center of the group where Emery stood. “He’s in breach. He’ll need to be hanged.”
The lead elf tensed, clearly knowing that was the wrong collection of words for the moment.
Romulus smiled. “Hanged, did you say?”
“Oh. Well…” The lead elf plucked at a large, ornate button. “Yes, Second. That’s elf business, of course. The lad played a cruel trick on the royalty some years back. With his brother. They’ve been ordered to be hanged. I apologize, but it’s the law.”
Romulus laughed, surprising Charity. “What a hilarious joke,” he said. “Hanged. Why, that sort of brutality only applies to treason or heinous crimes. Per the doctrine of the Realm, initiated some few centuries ago, a custodes of high status would’ve had to stand in judgment of the ruling. Though, I will admit, we’ve been somewhat absent. Tell me, what was this cruel trick that warrants such a horrifying public punishment?”
“He… Ah…” The lead elf rolled her shoulders, then her neck, looking for breathing room.
“He did an illusion,” the dainty thug said. “I was there. The whole place was in an uproar—people yelling, the queen in a horrible temper, half the palace confused…”
“An illusion. Hmm.” Romulus half turned. “Mr. Westbrook, please step forward, if you would.”
Two fae parted to let Emery walk out with his shoulders slightly rolled, like a cage fighter ready to do battle. His jaw was set and his fingers moved. Penny stepped closer to the front of the group, her hands up near her chest and her fingers moving as well. They had a spell in the works, probably something nasty.
The fae resumed their position, enclosing Halvor in the middle once again.
“Now, Mr. Westbrook, please do elaborate on this trick you played with your brother,” Romulus said.