A line of people—human, witches, and fae alike—waited in a long line to speak with her. The rest of the crowd gathered on either side, making an aisle for those wishing to speak to their sovereign. A pile of mismatched flowers dotted the steps below Lina’s feet.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the human man said, bowing his head and putting his cap back on. He moved off into the crowd as another man stepped forward. He wore a black totem bag around his neck, denoting that he was a witch.

With a bow, he placed a pale orange flower into the growing pile. His straight black hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away.

“Rise,” Lina said, lifting her hand. Thin chains of gold ran from her ring fingers up to her wrists, and her fingernails looked dipped in a gold leaf that dusted up to her knuckles. Bri cleared her throat. Even Lina’s fingers were utterly enticing.

“Apologies, Your Highness, but I need your help in settling a dispute between the baker, Maxfeld, and me.” He wrung his hat in his hands as his eyes and fingers flared a magical green. He blinked and it was gone—a green witch, then.

Witches couldn’t always control their magic when their emotions were heightened. Bri had seen the same happen to Remy and Rua several times—their eyes flashing red. Even though they weren’t witches by blood, red magic ran in their veins so emotions revealed it just the same, especially when they were glamoured. Bri shifted, grateful she didn’t have witch magic. How annoying it must be to not be able to lie.

“What is your grievance against the baker?” Lina asked. Her voice was smooth and warm, the snark from the previous night gone.

Bri shook her head again. Lina was clearly the same person and yet she felt like a stranger too, each mask she wore more endearing than the last.

“He hired me to help with the breads. He promised me a witch’s wage, but when payday came, he gave me the same as the humans. He refuses to pay me my worth even though I exhaust my magic by making his bread the best in town.”

The crowd murmured as Lina assessed him. She lifted two fingers off the armrest and the crowd silenced. Bri’s skin rippled with gooseflesh at the way Lina commanded an entire room with the smallest flick of her fingertips.

Lina cocked her head. “And what was your employer’s reasoning?”

“He said I don’t have a stitch of green magic, that the bread I bake tastes the same as all the others . . . but it’s not true. Here.” The witch took a tea towel out of the satchel on his shoulder. He unwrapped the fabric and held up two rolls.

“Darrow,” Lina said, flicking her hand to the side.

Darrow pointed to one of the guards beside him and the soldier stepped forward from behind the throne. He walked down to the witch and accepted the food.