If I had expected the Lady of Fangs to maintain her regal poise, to nod curtly and whisk us away with the elegance of a queen leading her court, then I was grievously mistaken. Because the moment I agreed, the very second the words "you have yourself a deal" left my lips, she flipped.
Absolutely flipped.
Her hands clasped together like a giddy child at a harvest festival, her golden eyes glittered like lanterns, and she let out a delighted squeal that was so painfully unbefitting her grandeur that I nearly choked on my own tongue.
She spun on her heel with a whirl of crimson silk and motioned for us to follow her as though she had just been told the bakery was giving out free samples.
I stared for a moment, slack-jawed, caught between terror and second-hand embarrassment. Was this… was this what a Queen-Class mage looked like behind the curtain? A fang-toothed tyrant masking the heart of a gleeful schoolgirl?
