“Stop.” Frances pressed a delicate finger to her temple. She was powdered and painted, so it was impossible to tell whether she flushed or paled, but her hand shook slightly. “This is a longer conversation than we can have like this. Umbrella, Vel, you will join Maisie and me in my parlor, and we will sort this all out. Until then, I have no choice but to put Keyes and Ursus in the dungeon.” She turned to Scratch, wincing slightly. “I am sorry, Sergeant Major.”

Scratch gave a bare smile. “It’s all right.”

“All right?” James squeaked. “We’re here to fight for you!”

Frances rounded on him. “You’re here as a gesture, Sergeant. You are my gift to the Koravian King, much akin to a bouquet of flowers or an artisan-crafted vase. You might be of use as a fighter for me, but until I make the decision to employ you in any way other than as a bargaining chip, your chief use is to be my vase.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you will refer to me as Your Highness. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness,” James replied meekly, his face going gray.

Brella came to stand beside Scratch. She vibrated with rage.

“I won’t allow it.”

“Brella,” Scratch implored in a low murmur. “It’s all right. Really.”

Brella flashed her with those eyes, burning hot and fierce. “She saved my life, Your Highness.”

Scratch coughed. “It was rather the other way around, actually.”

Brella made a throaty noise of impatience. “A bit of both then. But she’s done me a great service, and I can’t just stand here and let her get thrown in a dungeon.”

“Oh, Brella.” Maisie covered her face with her hands. “You stupid raccoon. Not this.”

“Maisie,” Vel warned. “Don’t.”

“You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?” Maisie hissed. “You incompetent frog. You’re all frothy about her being dangerous and, ‘Oh, we need to get her out of Ivinscont before she does more harm,’ and now you’re, what, her lover? You absolute paperweight.”

“I don’t think you should be lecturing me on whether it’s a good idea to share my bed with someone dangerous, you daft marigold!” Brella shouted. The room went silent.

“Brella.” Scratch watched Brella pale as her words sunk in. “No.”

Frances drew in a sharp breath, stiffening her shoulders and clenching her jaw. “Enough. Brella and Vel, you will be shown to a room where you will stay until I decide otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Vel put in quickly. Brella stood stock still, her lips pressed into a pale line. Scratch tried to feel for something in the blood bond, a little shard of that connection that opened their dreams, to push a good thought Brella’s way. She didn’t feel anything. She tried anyway. I have this. Don’t worry. Don’t make this a bigger mess than it needs to be.