“Well?”

“It was drawn by her ladyship, Your Highness,” he responded, even as I snapped, “It was a gift. Give it back to him.”

“A gift…” Tristan’s eyes drifted to me. “You know the laws, Pénélope. Fair value must always be paid in exchanges with humans.”

The way he said humans sounded distinctly like vermin, and I glared at him. “It’s just a sketch. Five minutes’ worth of work.”

“Of your work.” Tristan cast a sly glance at the human boy. “Did you know that Lady Pénélope is reckoned one of the finest artists living? A portrait by her is worth a small fortune. Granted, this is only a quick sketch, but I’d still estimate its value at…” He frowned as though considering the numbers, then named a price that was painfully high. And painfully accurate. “You could purchase it, if you wanted.”

The boy’s cheeks were flushed to a high color, hands balled into fists as though he intended to strike out. But he only shook his head.

“Don’t want it?” Tristan waved the paper in front of the boy’s face, silver eyes wicked bright. “Be mindful that you tell the truth.”

“I want it.” The admission came out from between the boy’s clenched teeth. “But it’s beyond my means, Your Highness.”

“How unfortunate for you.”

“At least I had the opportunity to see it, Your Highness. My memory will have to do.”

Tristan snorted out an amused laugh, then waved a hand at them. “Go.”

I waited until the door shut before saying, “Was it really necessary for you to be so cruel?”

Tristan flopped down on one of the chairs. “I didn’t write the laws, Pénélope. But I do have to live by them, the same as you.”

“There’s a difference between living by them and using them to justify your ill behavior.”

“True.” He held up the page, focusing on my sketch. “This really is rather good. I’ll buy it from you for the novelty alone.”

“It’s not for sale.” I snatched it out of his hand, then bent my knees in the most cursory of curtsies. “Good day to you, Your Highness.”

“Pénélope, wait.” Marc’s voice followed me out into the hallway, but I was too enraged to stop, my heels making loud thumps against the floor as I headed toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Marc’s hand closed on my arm, tugging me off into a side chamber. “I’m sorry for that. He’s at his worst around them.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Even if he does think they are lesser, that’s no reason to be cruel. And why do you put up with it?”

Marc shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t have much choice.”

My magic writhed around me, burning hot with anger that he was in this position. That he was forced to turn a blind eye to behavior so at odds from his own. But it didn’t need to be that way. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Pénélope, please.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice. “If it matters to you, I can get the sketch to Chris. He’s here with his father often, and it’s… it’s not hard for me to get contraband in and out of Trollus.”