Deena smiled and said, “As you wish.” She strolled over and fluffed a pillow before turning to sit down.
“And you,” he said, pointing at me, “in the kitchen.”
I shot Deena a look. She shrugged.
“Why?”
“Because that’s where the pixies want to get you ready for the investiture.”
“But it’s not for a couple of days.”
Louie’s face was grim. “The council bumped it up because you’re a flight risk. Why postpone it after you ran?”
I shrugged, letting Louie lead me to a gourmet kitchen with two sets of double ovens, a ridiculously huge island lined with oil-rubbed bronze barstools, and an enormous gas range.
“So, um, how’s Edon doing?” I asked, sliding onto one of the cushioned stools.
“Fine.”
“He’s awake, then?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I thought back to the deal we’d made about him being my escort. Trying not to get my hopes too high, I asked, “Does that mean he’ll no longer be able to go?”
Louie leaned against the island, folding his beefy arms. “He should wake up soon.”
“Ah.”
The doorbell rang, and Deena jumped up from the sofa. “I’ll get it,” she said.
“No, sit down. I’ll get it.”
“Such a gentleman.”
Louie glared at her. She smiled right back at him, a malicious gleam in her eye.
“Sit.”
Deena stayed standing.
“Please.”
Her smile broadened as she complied. “Look at you, learning so quickly.”
Louie’s jaw clenched as he jerked open the door.
Two human-glamoured pixies blew in like a tornado of neon pink and green tulle, their supermodel looks offset by flashy sequined tops.
The red-headed one wore her hair in a beehive updo. She tapped pink lensless glasses as she looked me up and down and turned to whisper to a pixie with tight cornrows that twirled into a braided bun on top of her head, sparkling beads threaded in against the black backdrop. The other pixie nodded, whispering back. They circled around me, eyes speculative, and reached for my hair. I jumped back. They glanced at each other and burst into giggles.
I scowled, but that only seemed to encourage them. Soon, the pixies were taking turns scowling at each other until they doubled over, clutching their stomachs as they gasped for air.
“Pixies!” Louie roared. The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had erupted. The pixies straightened up and looked at Louie glaring at them from the open door they’d stormed through moments before.
“You’re here for one reason, so get to it.”
They nodded like bobble heads and turned toward me, mirth lurking in their eyes.
Louie trudged over to the same sofa as Deena but sat down as far from her as the piece of furniture would allow, gesturing for the pixies to continue.
They did, moving quicker than I thought possible. They chatted away about my hair color, its underlying tone, the shade my dress would be, contrast or no contrast, various updos. My head spun just trying to keep up with the constant stream of high-pitched chatter. I looked imploringly at Louie, hoping that he’d somehow help me. His lips twitched in a smile as he grabbed a pair of bright orange earplugs, anchoring them in his ears. Smart guy. Griffin. Man-griffin.
One pixie pulled half of my hair to the left, the other to the right, my head weaving sharply to each side in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure on my scalp.
“No,” Beehive said, jerking her half of my hair toward her like some kid saying mine. “We need to smooth the curls.”
The left side of my head jerked toward Cornrows. “No, keep them. I should know.”
Beehive considered Cornrows for a moment. “But her hair isn’t like yours. Unless you braid your hair, it poofs up into a giant frizz ball.”
Cornrows gasped. I breathed a sigh of relief as my hair fell out of her grip, her hands now clenched to her heart. “A giant frizz ball—that’s what you think?” Cornrows folded her arms, her shock melting into a glare. “I guess I should have expected that from an artistic ignoramus who struts around looking like a conehead.”
It was Beehive’s turn to gasp, hand touching her hair. “Why I—”
“Cone. Head.” Cornrows said, pulling a strand of Beehive’s hair from her perfectly coifed updo.
A poof of neon pink fabric eclipsed my vision, swallowing up Cornrows with a shriek. All I could see was bright green and pink tulle competing for dominance amid shrieks too high-pitched for me to make out.
It wasn’t until a stray box of neon yellow hair curlers smacked into Louie’s head that he jerked to attention and roared, “Pixies!”
They froze, Cornrows holding a fistful of Beehive’s partially undone hair in mid-shake and Beehive with a bright pink stiletto poised to come down on Cornrow’s arm.
“If you cannot manage to do this quickly, the first thing I do once my glamour disappears is hunt you both down and eat you.”
Both promptly abandoned their fight, straightening up faster than my eyes could follow.
Beehive—well, half-beehive—cleared her throat. “Perhaps leaving her hair curly would best suit her after all.”
Cornrows nodded tightly. “Indeed.”
Beehive sniffed. “Tiara.”
“Of course.”
They exchanged another nod before re-attacking my hair with a vengeance.
Louie narrowly eyed the pixies as he sunk back into the couch, unfurling his paper as he crossed his right leg over his left.
Deena looked a bit unsettled. “Eat them? Exactly what kind of fae are you?”
Louie gave her the first genuine smile I’d ever seen on his face. “A griffin.”
His smile widened into a grin as Deena’s mouth dropped.
I clenched my jaw as they jerked my hair this way and that. They paused long enough to whip out a display of tiaras that ranged from simple wrought-silver to intricate masterpieces that easily topped a foot in height.
When Cornrows reached for the latter, I vehemently shook my head. “Uh-uh,” was all
