But I could never, not ever, tell him anything about the real me.
Not only because he probably wouldn’t believe me, but because I’d curse me and Mom if I did it.
“Well, I suppose I’m now listening,” I grumbled.
“The business I had to attend to was that King Noctorno summoned me.”
“No sh…fooling?”
“Sh-fooling?” he asked.
“I was going to curse,” I admitted.
“You can be you with me, Satrine.”
Yeah.
Right.
I could do that…
Satrine.
“Can we talk about a summons from a king and not my foul mouth?”
He nodded. “This is why I couldn’t say what I was doing. When Tor calls, sometimes the matters he needs to discuss are confidential.”
“Right,” I whispered.
Badass, I thought.
“This time, it was about a couple of things, one of which was your father.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Dad?”
Another nod from Loren. “Due to the nature, audaciousness and extent of his crimes, the magistrate sent a bird.”
Update: they didn’t have phones, or telegrams, they had birds. Like carrier pigeons, but instead they were ravens and they pretty much never failed in delivering their message, unless they were shot down during wartime and such.
Another update: I’d learned that in a book. I’d also learned it when the modiste, Madame Toussaint, asked Mom, “Would you like me to send a bird to Benies? You need their silk. It’s from Firenze. It’s sublime. It’ll take perhaps six weeks to get here, that is, after the bird arrives with our order, so we’ll say ten weeks, but it will be very worth it.”
Further update: We sent a bird for the silk.
Last update (for now): The reason Ansley gave me that look when I talked about the birds singing to me and mice being my friends was because animals talked to you in this world. Birds. Cats. Mice. (I told you! This place was Disney in real life!) It happened to Mom and me with a stray cat at first. We were walking down the street with Maxie. We flipped out. This flipped Maxine out. Carling was escorting us to a patisserie. He flipped out when we all flipped out. It was a huge thing.
In the end, we had to pretend we were playing a game, and thank gods they bought it.
Wait, one more update: Mom adopted that cat, mostly because the cat asked to go home with us. His name was Mr. Popplewell (according to Mr. Popplewell). He was ginger with some white. He’d gained at least five pounds since we’d had him (and he was not svelte to start with) due to Mom stuffing him with chicken and fish. He slept with her. Doted on Maxine. And cuddled with me. Because, you guessed it, Maxine and I stuffed him with chicken and fish too.
“The magistrate sent a bird?” I prompted.
“Tor returned a bird and froze your father’s access to his assets. You, your mother, any representatives you decide, can access what you wish. Your father can make no decisions about his estate until, perhaps, after his trial.”
“Holy cow,” I breathed.
Well, that explained why Dad-not-Dad hadn’t taken any action.
Loren smiled. “Yes. It’s unprecedented. But I can say, by the time I arrived to meet him, Tor was still decidedly displeased.”
“I’d guess so,” I remarked. “But what did you mean by ‘perhaps’ until after his trial?”
“Tor is traveling here to sit and hear his defense personally.”
The king was coming to sit in judgment on Dad-not-Dad?
“Holy cow times a thousand. Really?” I asked.
More smiling and nodding from Loren.
“Will I meet him?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have no choice. He and Cora will be expecting us for dinner after they arrive in Newton.”
This just kept getting better!
“I get to meet the queen too?”
“Indeed.”
This was awesome!
“Do you think he’ll keep Father’s access to his assets frozen while he’s in jail?”
“The impression I get is that Tor is frustrated with his nobles behaving like they have the run of the country and can do anything they wish at any time to anyone, without any consequences. His father was a good man, a fine king, but he was a traditionalist. He tended to let the peers of his realm act as they always had, with veritable impunity. Tor is a far more modern sort of king.”
Wow.
How cool.
Loren went on, “And he’s felt he’s done what he can to make his statement moderately, but there are those who aren’t catching on, for instance, your father. So he’s looking to set an example.”
I could not for the life of me stop my smile.
Loren returned it.
“So what does that mean?” I asked.
“I’ve no idea, darling. But unless Tor’s mood improves significantly before your father’s trial, or Derryman finds some adequate defense, I’m afraid things aren’t looking good for him.”
“Good,” I whispered.
“Indeed,” he replied.
Except…
“Hang on, do you guys behead people or anything?” I asked.
“Not anymore,” he answered.
“I think that’s good.”
He chuckled.
“Okay, that was almost worth you stopping kissing me.”