Page 32 of My Fae Lady

As we neared the courthouse in a slow stroll arm-in-arm, I tried not to dwell on the evolving nature of our relationship, considering how all this would end. I couldn’t deny that our united cause and time together had accidentally made us friendly.

“Do you even chew your food?” she snarked at me as I bit the entire top off the cupcake she’d just handed over from the bag of goodies on her arm.

Well, mostly friendly. Lips covered in icing, I grinned at her. Then I handed her the boring bottom part of the cupcake, and she ate it for me in quaint little nibbles.

Giselle produced a handkerchief from her reticule and wiped my face clean with the linen. “Now,” she said, tugging my neckcloth straight, “do be on your best behavior in front of the judge, please. We’ve almost reached our goal and can’t afford a setback.”

“My stomach is very full,” I said soothingly, patting my belly over the lapel of my traveling coat. “I’m unlikely to threaten to eat anyone in this state.”

“You’ve done smashingly so far,” she admitted, hiding her eyes under her big hat full of weeds and feathers and an odd band of fur. “You’ve more than earned a firstborn.”

Mention of our bargain caused the magic to tug painfully on my heart. She rubbed at the spot in her chest like it hurt her there too.

The courthouse was a bustling place, but the judge’s offices were even busier and doubly as crowded. Douglas and his annoying little brother had beaten us inside, and they’d summoned an army of solicitors to accompany them. The solicitors spoke over each other, shouting at the judge who slumped tiredly behind his desk.

The mob quieted as we entered, squeezing between men in suits to stand toward the back. Giselle locked her arm around mine in a plea for comfort. I squeezed her arm in return. I couldn’t see any resemblance between Giselle and her cousins. They had none of the angular features of the fae, their ears lacked a point, and their teeth were dull.

Judge Matherson rubbed his wrinkled brow. “As I’ve already said, the marriage certificate is legitimate. I recognize the magistrate’s signature. It’s even been witnessed by Sigmund Hilferty himself. I can’t gainsay Hilferty; since he witnessed the original contract assigning Rook Manor as Giselle’s dowry, there is no question that the terms have been met.”

“I won’t stand back and allow my poor cousin to fall prey to the coercive nature of the Unseelie,” Douglas crowed. His round face went red with rage. “We have a duty as gentlemen—”

“My duty is to the law,” Matherson said in the booming voice of a man accustomed to speaking over small angry mobs. His words echoed. Behind him, a bronze replica of the Seelie Scales sat in an honorary place on his shelf amongst his leather-bound tomes.

“The beast threatened to eat me!” Douglas roared.

“In defense of me!” Giselle said, stepping forward. She’d acted meek in the courtroom, but now her shoulders were set and some of her fire was on display. She took a moment to collect herself before adding calmly, “Lord Sylvan spoke in defense of his wife and in defense of our home. That is all. All this nonsense about me being coerced into a marriage is just that: nonsense. I’m standing before you of sound mind. If need be, I will state under oath that I’ve formed a union with my husband of my own free will.”

I did not come to Giselle’s aid. The capable woman didn’t need me to. She’d already bested the room with her plot, and everyone stuffed into that office knew it, whether they were ready to admit it or not.

Matherson’s powdered wig had gone slightly askew since he’d left his courtroom. His gaze snapped briefly to me. It was clear he didn’t like what he saw, and that was fine with me. I didn’t much like what I was looking at either.

The judge chuckled. It was an unfriendly sound. “Lord Sylvan is Unseelie. I would have found it alarming had he not threatened to eat anyone. In any case, his brash behavior has no bearing on the matter at hand.”

The solicitors began talking over each other once more.

Matherson made shushing motions until their voices dulled to an aggravated murmur. “My decision on this matter is final. I’ve been given no proof that Lady Giselle’s marriage is in any way illegitimate, aside from some loud statements about her groom’s immutable qualities. Rook Manor belongs to Lady Giselle as part of her dowry and will not be included in any further hearing over matters of inheritance.” The judge raised his gavel and dropped it decisively on his desk. “Now, for the love of light, get out. All of you.”

Giselle gave nothing away as she strolled demurely into the hall, her chin held high. We made it as far as the foyer before she spun toward me as though she couldn’t contain herself a moment longer. Her eyes were that same shade of joyful burgundy I’d seen in the carriage while she discussed her study of magical artifacts. She threw her arms around my neck.

“We did it!” she squealed in my ear.

“We did.” I hugged her back with enough gusto that her feet left the tiles briefly.

Douglas came surging out of the office in a temper. He stomped into the hall with his brother at his heels, and their entourage of officers of the court formed a wall of suits just behind them.

I released Giselle. She squared her shoulders and set her jaw, ready to meet whatever whimpering insult Douglas hurled at her with the steadiness of a warrior woman. Were I still a lord in command of armies, Giselle was exactly the sort of fae I’d put out in front. Her face gave nothing away, and she could tear a man to shreds with her barbed tongue before they even reached her shield. She was unshakable.

Her cousin, on the other hand, was the soft sort of dandy boy that I’d stick in the back where no soldier could see him. One look at his face would only encourage the enemy.

Douglas opened his mouth.

And I opened mine.

I snapped my sharp teeth at him and let out a growl. It was the same growl I used to scare off grizzly bears when they tried to steal my prey. A hush fell across the hall, and Douglas pulled up short so quickly his brother bounded into the back of him. Whatever he’d been about to say, he swallowed it down, throat bobbing.

“Giselle,” he said in parting, face pale. He straightened his cravat and marched off toward the courtroom where the hearing over the title would continue without us.

When they were gone, Giselle shook her head. “I envy you and all of those sharp teeth of yours,” she said. “I wish I could silence the likes of them just by snapping my jaws. But no. Because I’m a lady, I have to put on a pretty disguise and play a complex part. I have to repeat myself ten times and pretend that, yes, it really was their idea that they’re now taking credit for and not the thing I’ve been saying all along.”