I groaned. "Girl, if you fly any slower, I'm gonna vomit. ON PURPOSE."
But she didn't sass back. She didn't chirp. She didn't wiggle her wings. She looked… solemn. Like I'd just risen from the dead with flaming wings.
"Master," Raya murmured, voice trembling, "you just spoke to a giant troll. Lifted their curse. Sang the Ancient Song. I can't sass you. The hot Viking will cut off my head."
I blinked. Then rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw the back of my skull. "Viking is not cutting off your head. You're my baby. No one touches you."
Raya sniffed proudly and then—WHOOSH—picked me up like a delicate baby carrot and flew me down.
We landed in front of Viking, Sir Alex, Jin, and the rest of my warriors.
ALL STILL. ALL KNEELING.
Viking wouldn't even look up—his head bowed so low his braid touched the snow.
Sir Alex's cape was frozen to the ground because he refused to lift it.
My men were practically kneeling statues.
