Flights of Fancy: Faerietales, #5

By Jeannette DiLouie

Maybe she's insane.
But this plan's a go regardless.

Thanks to her almost sister-in-law, Sabrina had already decided to start making inroads into the upstairs world, paving the way for friendly faerie-human relations. 

Unfortunately, HPAC super-spy Melanie White is back in the picture. She's been working hard to get the HPAC back up and running at full strength, forcing Sabrina to up her own timeline in the process. Forget any five-year plans; if faeries are going to get out their "we come in peace" message to their unsuspecting human counterparts, they're going to have to act now. 

In order to do that, Sabrina finds herself turning to a known murderer, attempted murderer, and an all-around pain in the wing. Whether she can trust one-time HPAC Intelligence chief Brendon Iver is anyone's guess. And the same goes for whether she can utilize him like she needs to. 

She knows the risks. But the potential rewards?

They're just too valuable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeannette DiLouie
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781548020279

Jeannette DiLouie

Jeannette DiLouie was born a New Jersey girl and will die the same even if she grew up in Pennsylvania, lived in Maryland and is now back in Central Pennsylvania. She’s also a cookie dough-eating, travel-obsessed bookworm, and an editor who loves helping other writers achieve their own dreams. Ethnically half-Italian, Jeannette is tragically addicted to carbohydrates. Also ethnically half-Scottish, she’s counting down the days when she can go visit that lovely land again. And being just under five-foot three, she happily claims her short-girl rights to climb on any shelf or counter she needs to. If you enjoyed these past pages, she would love to see you rate and review them on Amazon and/or Goodreads. And if you have a fiction (or non-fiction) story of your own that you’d really like to write or are already writing, check out www.InnovativeEditing.com, Jeannette’s business page. It’s full of free and paid resources… all devoted to genuine writers and making their publishing goals achievable.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Italian Faerie Queen Sabrina didn’t have handcuffs on her wrists. She did have her cell phone on her. And the guards in the room were there to protect her, not to keep her in.

Yet sitting in the prison’s private visitation room, waiting for the actual jailbird to arrive, she was starting to feel like she’d never escape the boring monotony around her.

Shifting her gaze away from the open door, Sabrina rolled her green eyes in self-mockery. Knowing who she’d come to see, had she really expected to just be in and out without hassle?

Besides, waiting a few minutes more than she wanted wasn’t the worst thing ever. She should have been happy just to be back in Scotland considering how little she got to visit these days. And she was happy. Really. It’s just that she wished she was in Scotland for no other reason than to see her family. Instead, she was there on official business, starting with the meeting that should have started already. The one she really just wanted to get over with already.

Sabrina drummed her manicured nails on the simple metal table top, then glanced up and to her right. Hey, Michael?

It might have been her imagination, but it seemed like her American accent echoed off the painted brick walls.

Her tall, dark-haired security chief with the charcoal-grey wings didn’t look at her when he responded. He was too fixated on watching the doorway. Yes, your majesty?

His Scottish inflections echoed a little too, she realized. So she wasn’t going crazy after all. That was nice to know.

You know you’re not allowed to kill him, right?

I know that. He didn’t smile.

She hadn’t expected him to. Really? ‘Cause you could have fooled me.

No offense, your majesty, Michael replied, but I don’t think now’s the right time for conversation.

She didn’t exactly agree with him, but Sabrina didn’t bother arguing. Not when he looked so very tense. All six of the bodyguards in the room gave off those vibes, for that matter. The two in the corners in front of her. The two on either side of the still-empty doorway. Brown-eyed Richard on her immediate left. They were ready for war.

Giving up on making Michael talk to her, Sabrina found it very tempting to ask Richard a question instead. Tall and just as well-muscled as his boss, he was still a sweetie when it came down to it. So he’d probably cave if she pushed him to chat.

He’d hate himself for it, but he’d cave.

It was an attractive idea, though one she ultimately passed on for his sake. She wasn’t that much of a selfish jerk. Not when his bright blue wings were radiating the same kind of harshness that Michael’s were. Standing straight at attention behind him, their tips resembled two razor blades about to skewer the ceiling.

Sabrina sighed. She wanted to be out of there as much as they did, but it was for completely different reasons. She just couldn’t share their concerns for her safety. Not when the whole compound was safe and secured six ways from Sunday. Literally. The place had been under additional surveillance all week. And some three dozen of her brother’s men were even then roaming the property, all of them invisible to non-faerie eyes.

Sabrina went back to staring out into the boring, empty hallway, one hand playing with the collar of her business jacket right above where her phone was concealed. She’d refrained from checking it before, certain that if she did, the prisoner would come waltzing into the room right at that moment to interpret her impatience however he wanted.

He was inconvenient like that.

What time is it? Despite her pledge to leave Michael and his men alone, Sabrina couldn’t quite help it.

Since she wasn’t hearing footsteps out in the hallway, she needed to hear something else other than the slight sounds of her retro green and yellow wings brushing back and forth along her chair legs. She’d long-since stopped wrapping them around her body and now had them draped demurely across her lap. But since they were more than long enough to fall over the sides still, she’d taken to twitching them to a beat only she could hear.

Hmmm? She prompted when she got no response.

Michael deigned to give her a reproving look for even trying such a cheap trick.

That was it for Sabrina. Patience at its end, she reached for her phone after all, one part of her hoping it would tempt the prisoner into hurrying up already.

It didn’t.

Then again, the mobile device did show she had some reason to be annoyed. It hadn’t been as long as she’d thought, but the obnoxious jerk still should have arrived a decent five minutes ago. She had to wonder whether he was delaying the tête-á-tête on purpose, and if so, why.

There were a decent half-dozen reasons she could think of on the spot. One of the most likely being that she hadn’t seen him in seven months, and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. She’d left him questioning if he’d be executed for two counts of attempted murder, three counts of actual murder and numerous counts of being a self-absorbed, aggravating toady.

Of course, being one of the intended victims, Sabrina had far more reason to be mad at him than vice versa. However, he was HPAC. They weren’t logical creatures. So he might very well be holding a grudge.

Hence the reason why her bodyguards were so tense.

Since nobody would talk to her, Sabrina’s fingers flew across her phone to start a conversation with someone who wouldn’t be so reticent. He’s taking his sweet little time. I’ve been in the meeting room for ten whole minutes now, and he’s still not here.

She sent that one, then immediately decided she wanted to vent some more. It should only take what? Like four minutes? Why doesn’t someone just drag him in by his ears already!

She pushed send again, knowing full well that Dallas would be watching his phone as if her life depended on it. He wasn’t happy about her meeting with Brendon Watts, formerly known as Brendon Iver back when he ran the HPAC’s truly depraved Intelligence unit.

As expected, her fiancé’s response came very quickly. I’ll get someone to slap him around for being tardy. Make sure they mess up his hair while they’re at it.

That made her snort in genuine amusement. Watts was very particular about his appearance, or at least he had been back before he went to the human prison she was currently waiting in.

Lauren owes me big time for this one, she texted, even though Dallas’ little sister wasn’t the real reason she was there. It had started out that way, but Sabrina was now operating on a much bigger hope than ensuring her future sister-in-law a blissful interspecies relationship with one Ross McCullough.

Her screen winked with another quick response, but that was the precise moment she heard movement from out in the hallway. So whatever Dallas had written, she didn’t get to read. Sliding her phone back into her jacket pocket, Sabrina squared her shoulders, adjusted her wings in her lap and adopted the best blank expression she could manage.

Get your game face on, your majesty, she muttered to herself, running both hands over her yellow-blond hair and straightening her ponytail. Then she watched Watts walk through the door, completely carefree as if he wasn’t in handcuffs for trying to kill her.

Good afternoon, your majesty. His Scottish voice was certainly smooth enough, all bad-boy appeal that combined with his good-boy looks in so very many dangerous ways.

Good afternoon, Watts. Sabrina made sure she sounded just as assured.

Please call me Iver. He smiled like they were the best of friends. I’m so used to it by now; it’s really who I consider myself to be.

Please have a seat. She gestured to the space across from her. Watts.

As you wish. Your majesty. Smirking still, he moved his six-foot runner’s frame over to the chair on the other side of the table.

Sabrina wondered if he felt uncomfortable with her bodyguards staring at him so intently. He had to, no matter how cool he was playing it off. Her men might not be looking at her, yet she could feel the intensity of their stares.

To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting? Watts asked.

Right to business then. Sabrina could handle that. It’d be a relief if that’s actually how he wanted to play it.

The Italian faerie court would like to make you a deal.

Watts’ blond brows rose over his compelling blue eyes. She couldn’t help but notice how perfectly arched those eyebrows were, making her wonder whether the prison allowed their inmates to have tweezers. If she posed that question to Dallas, he would doubtlessly snip that there was a spa on site too.

Her fiancé had a very poor opinion of human jails in the United Kingdom, especially ones that were housing HPAC personnel.

The Italian faerie court, your majesty? Watts was mocking her, but it was a light mockery. More playful than anything. Not the Italian faerie queen?

Sabrina made sure her answering tone was much less friendly. This is a professional visit, not a personal one.

His eyes didn’t stop sparkling.

She glared, feeling her haughty mantle melt away to leave her feeling much younger and less sophisticated. You’re a jerk.

I’ve been called worse.

That doesn’t surprise me.

Watts let out a little laugh, so much more at ease than she was.

Sabrina knew she should bring the conversation back on point. But he was so blatantly daring her to best him. And she, it appeared, was too stupid not to take him up on the challenge.

She wished she could say she had no clue why he was able to get past her better judgements so well so often. Except that would make her just as much a fraud as him. That’s why she fully acknowledged there was something about him that was compelling: something that made her feel like they were old college friends or something.

That had been the case from the first moment she’d met him. It was almost like those stupid HPAC stories had gotten it all wrong. As if female faeries didn’t have hypnotic powers over male humans, but the exact opposite.

Sabrina could only be grateful the fascination was no more than personality-deep.

I’d say it’s nice to see you, he picked back up with grace and ease and insufferable levels of enjoyment. But you’d probably call me a liar next.

You are a liar, she pointed out.

You’re wrong there though. Why would I not want to see my favorite faerie queen?

Because I have you locked up behind bars until I decide otherwise?

He shrugged, his expression changing to one of simple honesty. Ah well. I did try to kill you.

She bit her tongue before replying, yet her next words weren’t anywhere as dignified as they should have been. Haven’t you developed quite the mature attitude.

Hardly, he countered, his aura shifting yet again. If that was true, I wouldn’t tell you how much I’m enjoying the current view. Best picture I’ve seen since my favorite canteen lady quit last month.

Richard actually growled at that, which made Watts smirk all the more.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, unoffended but equally un-flattered. There’s something wrong with you. You know that, right?

That I appreciate beauty whenever I can?

On her other side, Michael muttered an unkind though pretty appropriate comment about Iver. It wasn’t professional, but it did serve to make Sabrina feel better about her own behavior. She supposed she wasn’t acting so inexcusably after all if Watts could get under her men’s skins that way. Normally, out in public, they were nothing short of stoic.

Unlike the prisoner, who was looking at her with a flirtatious front of innocence.

Whatever. She flexed her wings behind her at a disrespectful angle.

He couldn’t see them with his human eyes, of course, unless he had HPAC technology on him in the form of their very white lights or very lame sunglasses. And even if he could, she doubted he was adept at reading the subtle complexities of wing language.

The gesture had been for her sake, not his. Contrary to his way of thinking, not everything was about him.

You think I look good? Sabrina started speaking again before she had fully relaxed her posture. I have an even better view to offer in exchange for your cooperation."

I’m assuming this has nothing to do with taking clothes off, he returned. But please, go on anyway. What exactly do you want from me that brings you here. In person. Offering me deals.

The first two pleased-as-punch statements deserved to be ignored altogether. And this time, that’s exactly what she did.

You used to help out Scotland Yard when you were teaching criminology. Sabrina paused for dramatic effect until he leaned forward, an involuntary act of anticipation. I need those connections.

Watts’ eyebrows arched for the second time since he’d come in. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

She let him muse it out on his own.

He cocked his head to the side. Let’s hear the bottom-line deal and work backwards from there. What do I get in exchange for these connections?

Your freedom, she stated. There will, of course, be some strings attached, but you can walk out of here a free man – today – if you sign on the dotted line.

He was interested. Sabrina knew he was interested. There was no way he couldn’t be. Yet he didn’t jump at the chance like some part of him must have wanted to.

He played it cool instead. Sounds to me like a dangerous deal.

I wouldn’t say that, she weighed in. Not for either of us. More of a nuisance than anything considering how it involves dealing with undesirable company.

Undesirable? Watts pressed both hands to his heart. Oh come on, Sabrina. I don’t look that bad, do I?

Looks can be deceiving.

Not in your case.

She smacked her wings out at Michael and Richard at the same time, a warning to keep their mouths shut and let her handle this. That’s what Stewart used to think.

She figured that would annoy him.

She was right.

Now you’re just being petty, he accused, his blue eyes radiating a convincing amount of feeling.

And you haven’t been? You just called me by my first name when you know you’re not supposed to.

Aye. Fair enough. A boyish grin replaced the irritation. In that case, I’ve got conditions for helping you out.

Inwardly, Sabrina startled at the sudden redirection. Outwardly, all she did was raise a regal brow. You mean aside from my very generous offer to get you out of here?

Correct. He placed his elbows on the table to lean forward again, chin in his cupped hands.

Sabrina didn’t have to have a clear view of all six of her bodyguards to know that every one of them tensed in anticipation. But for her part, she leaned back into her chair to regard him with every bit as much smug calculation as he exuded impish delight.

I’m listening.

I’ll find a way to connect you to Prime Minister Crawford and the whole royal family if that’s what you want, he offered. But in exchange, along with my instantaneous release, I get to call you Sabrina. You have to call me Iver. And you don’t get to compare me to Stewart.

Sabrina let out a sarcastic little snort. You do realize you’re not in the greatest position to bargain, right?

You wouldn’t be here unless the same was true for you, he pointed out.

After several years of dealing with politics, Sabrina could recognize a checkmate when she saw it. But she was also really good at spotting when there were still moves to play. So instead of admitting defeat like he wanted her to, she reached for her phone, bringing up a particular number and dialing it, her gaze on him while she did.

Your majesty? Claire asked from out in the hallway.

Would you mind bringing in the paperwork? It wasn’t really a question; just one more way of showing how relaxed she was.

Of course. Her chief of staff’s Irish accent came out prim and proper to the point of being outright snobbish.

Claire didn’t like Watts very much. In fact, she might actually hate him more than Dallas did. If that was possible.

Sabrina put the phone away, with the door swinging open two seconds later. When she entered, everything about Claire radiated disapproval and disdain, from her crisp, blue business suit to her brown hair swept into a bun, not to mention her eyes and wings.

Even the way she held out the manila folder and pen she was holding was far too brusque.

Sabrina smiled at her. Thank you.

Of course, your majesty. Should I wait here until you’re done?

I don’t think that’s necessary, but the offer is appreciated.

She doesn’t think I’m going to try anything? Watts asked with an incredulous breath of amusement. Does she?

Claire didn’t break protocol, no matter how much she must have wanted to wing-slap him into the wall. I’ll be right outside if you need me.

Surprisingly, Watts waited until she was out of the room to say anything else. It’s nice you have so many loyal people around you.

Yeah, she agreed. Particularly when there are so many treacherous people out there. Putting the folder down on the table, she flipped it open to take out one of the last pages, which was largely empty except for ruled lines.

Sabrina made sure to take her time while she wrote out his demands as Concession One and Concession Two. Then she slid the pen and sheet over. Time to put your money where your mouth is. Iver.

He mashed his lips together. Are you not going to let me read the contract first?

You can. If you want. The way Sabrina said it, she might as well have thrown out a schoolyard taunt telling him he’d be a sissy if he did anything so intelligent.

Watts wasn’t stupid. He knew she was playing him. Yet they both knew he enjoyed the game too much to refuse her childish challenge. So she wasn’t surprised when he picked up the pen and inclined his head, complete with an elaborate hand gesture reminiscent of eras gone by. Turning his full attention to the paper, he read over only what she’d just marked up, then signed his name on the dotted line.

Your turn, he told her, holding the contract out. Sabrina.

With a casual shrug and a victor’s smile, she signed her name above his with an intentional flourish, making sure to meet his gaze for two full seconds before she spoke. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Iver. If I didn’t own you before, I definitely do now.

Chapter 2

Not looking even a little deterred, Watts practically sparkled back at her. This is going to be fun.

I’m sure. Sabrina stood up. You’ll find two of my people in the hall waiting to escort you out of here.

Just like that? But he stood up too, his wrists turning in the handcuffs with an impatience he couldn’t contain.

She nodded, her eyes still cool. Just like that. We figured you’d say yes, so all the necessary paperwork is taken care of. You’re free to leave.

He held his hands out, his eyebrows raised in question.

Sabrina didn’t have to answer thanks to a human prison guard walking through the door, his timing so perfect she couldn’t have planned it better herself. So she got to stand there and watch as an unrepentant murderer was unchained, ready to be released out onto the world.

Sabrina still wasn’t worried about her physical safety, but Michael and Richard’s opinions on the subject hadn’t changed either. They both took a solid step closer to her, their respective grey and blue wings extending outward an inch or two in readiness.

Nothing happened though. Sabrina knew it wouldn’t. Watts – or Iver, as she needed to start calling him – was too controlled and calculating for such a reckless move. Besides, she was about to give him a long-term reason to play nice. There was something he wanted, and she had the power to give it to him just as long as he kept giving her what she needed.

He could and doubtlessly would flirt all he wanted, but Sabrina knew she wasn’t the real prize he sought. Watts – No. Iver – craved emotional validation above everything else in life, and Sabrina had a spotlight ready for him.

How big it would be completely depended on how useful he proved.

So where to from here? Iver asked. Does your humble servant get to sit at your feet for the lift home?

Yeah. Sure. He didn’t need to see the slant of her wings to know she was matching sarcasm with more sarcasm. You even get to hold a knife while you’re at it. And I’ll conveniently turn for you.

His lips pressed together, amusement written across his face as he considered his next words. Not poison?

Michael, Richard and every other guard in the room tensed a fraction more.

Sabrina, however, wasn’t rattled. Not poison. It’s too unreliable. That’s how he had tried to kill her seven months ago. I want to give you a fighting chance this time. Keep it interesting.

What I’m really hearing you say is that you don’t trust me. He tapped one toe. Even though I’m not an HPAC employee anymore.

You’re not an HPAC employee because there is no HPAC. Finished with the conversation, she started walking toward the door, her guards falling into step around her. You don’t get brownie points for quitting a defunct organization, Iver.

And a defunct organization thanks to her efforts, not his.

The personally and professionally problematic Human Preservation and Advancement Committee had been permanently disbanded by its last official president on threat of extreme repercussions. The man was under constant surveillance and, in addition, had to submit reports every first and third Tuesday of the month. The day he failed to do so would be the day he was brought before a faerie court, where he’d doubtlessly be found guilty and sentenced to death.

That was the agreement they’d come to, and it seemed to work fine for all parties involved. Moreover, it was an arrangement Iver was well aware of, no matter if he’d already been taken into custody when the official contract was struck, and no matter if he wanted to admit it or not.

Does that mean I’d get points if it wasn’t ‘defunct?’ He called after her.

Sabrina didn’t bother responding this time. She swept out of the room, nodding at the two faerie guards who were standing in the hallway, waiting to escort Iver to his new accommodations.

One of them was an attractive female, a pretty picture that should keep him occupied in the short term. Newly released from a men’s prison, he’d be too busy trying to flirt with her to think of escape.

The way Sabrina saw it, Iver’s second biggest goal in life was to make every faerie woman fall madly in love with him just so he could break their hearts. His idiotic vendetta could be traced back to his first girlfriend, Kim, a faerie who had first taken his virginity and then broken his heart.

Sabrina had gotten a thorough look into the melo-dramatic story after her last encounter with Iver. That was one of the perks of being a monarch, especially one who was engaged to the head of her own Intelligence department. She now knew all about Iver. And his ex.

Born upstairs, Kim had lived her whole life around humans, a lifestyle choice that hadn’t been too common a few decades ago. But there still were those faeries who had chosen to risk HPAC attention for some reason or another.

Kim’s father and mother had done so for business purposes, it seemed. Already the owners of several downstairs mines, they’d seen the chance to quadruple their profit by expanding into the world above.

The risk had paid off to perfection, allowing little Kimmy to grow up like a winged Scottish Rockefeller.

Perhaps it was hard to grow up in such a privileged environment and not turn out at least a little snotty. Sabrina wouldn’t know. She might have been born a princess, but she’d grown up far away from home, thinking she was an orphan. So she couldn’t say in all certainty that, had positions been reversed, she would have ended up any less the spoiled sorority girl.

Though when she’d broached that thought to Dallas, he had winged it away pretty fast.

Your brother isn’t a spoiled frat boy.

He’s not now, she argued. But what about before Mom and Dad’s murder?

Her fiancé raised an eyebrow. Can you really see Kenneth being that bad at any point in his life?

Sabrina had to concede that much. Her brother could be a ridiculous tease when he wanted to be, but that was usually with family members and always in appropriate settings.

Your parents clearly did a good job with him, Dallas added. I’m sure they would have done the same with you if they could have.

There was no need for him to elaborate further than that, but her mind had done so anyway, fixating on that key word. If.

If her parents could have. If the HPAC hadn’t killed them before she’d had a chance to so much as solidify their faces in her mind. If Kim’s parents hadn’t pushed buttons they had no business messing with.

The dossier Dallas compiled had been eye-opening, to say the least. While the investigation had never been meant as a witch hunt into a single individual’s personal affairs, it was impossible not to dredge up irrelevant dirt when there were so many pertinent and non-pertinent details tangled up together.

That’s why Sabrina knew Kim had racked up a full lineup of arm candy by the time she walked into Iver’s life at university. He’d fallen madly in love with her, and Sabrina was willing to bet the attraction was mutual in the beginning. They’d been the perfect couple, planning out their future and sharing everything, right down to Kim’s true identity.

That wasn’t the kind of information a faerie gave up without good reason. Like torture. Or love.

But love wasn’t enough to keep Kim from getting cold wings and reverting back to her old habits. She cheated on Iver. He found out. And they broke up, though they ended up agreeing to still be friends.

That last detail hadn’t impressed Sabrina one bit. Yet, reading over the next part of the compiled information, her disdain for Iver’s inability to walk away evaporated. His love life or lack thereof slipped so far from her mind, it might as well not have existed at all. Because right there, in black and white, were more details about her parents’ murder.

Sitting at her royal desk in her royal office, Sabrina hadn’t reacted like a queen. She’d reacted like a daughter, almost knocking her diamond decanter onto the floor in a burst of sorrow and rage.

No matter that it had been more than two and a half decades since their deaths. No matter that the only memories she had of them were through others’ stories. It still hurt to get another piece of the puzzle.

Sabrina had dialed Kenneth right away, hoping beyond all hope that he wasn’t in a meeting.

My wee bairn of a sister! was his immediate answer. Scotland misses you. How’s Italy?

For a second, she didn’t know how to start.

Sabrina? He prompted, his cheer draining away in the face of her silence. Are you there?

She closed her eyes. Dallas dug further into Iver’s relationship with Kim.

There was a pause on the other end. It’s that bad?

It’s that bad. Sabrina reached for her glass of water, though that was it. She didn’t take a sip. Her family has connections to the HPAC. To Mom and Dad too.

I see. Kenneth sounded calm. Too calm, when it came down to it.

There’s nothing to indicate they were directly involved in the hit. I don’t think they were directly involved in anything untoward at all. She shook her head for her own benefit. But they were cozy enough with management ten years ago for Kim to get Iver hired there.

Interesting.

If she was anyone but his baby sister, Sabrina would have been very concerned about his tone. They’re also the ones who the old president reached out to when he wanted to get ahold of Mom and Dad for that specimen deal.

She was trying to keep her voice steady, but she couldn’t hold back the venom when she said the word specimen. That was how the HPAC viewed her kind: things to experiment on in the pursuit of science and a supposedly better world.

So they knew them? Kenneth asked. Mum and Da, I mean. Kim’s parents knew them?

No. Her wings curled behind her. They knew someone who knew them.

Did they suggest getting in contact with them, or did the HPAC ask them to?

Sabrina hadn’t even considered that angle. She supposed she hadn’t read far enough down for the answer yet, which meant she had to stall for a moment while her gaze skimmed the next few paragraphs at breakneck speed.

The incriminating lines were at the very bottom of the page. They suggested it.

Then they’re just as guilty as the HPAC. The way he said it, there was no room for interpretation.

His judgement wasn’t flawless, but Sabrina didn’t point that out. He would reevaluate the situation well before he took any action. Of that, she was sure. So in the privacy of a sibling conversation, she wasn’t going to criticize him for his temporary conclusion.

In the moment, she rather felt the same way.

Anyone who knew anything about the former king and queen should have known they never would have sold their citizens to the HPAC. Not for any price.

Sure