*Polly*
I find myself reeling backward, thanks to a hand pulling me free as if I were a dog in a fight. To my profound dismay, it's my mother. “Prince Fennec, what in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?” my mother demands.
I stand still, breathless, my eyes fixed on Fennec, feeling as if he’s somehow passed his intoxication on to me.
“And you, Pollyanna,” my mother cries, rounding on me, “what in the Goddess’ name do you think that you’re doing? Have I taught you nothing?”
A deep, cultivated voice says in a rather amused fashion, “They don’t call it the marriage mart for nothing, Mrs. Svane. Looks like your girl will be the first of the mating season to tie the knot.”
Fennec makes a choking noise and I turn around, only to find a group of fascinated spectators that includes
