“Well, of course, my lady,” Snow Hair said, like I’d asked whether water was wet. “You are a Lady and should be treated as such.”
Capital L. I could hear it.
Before I could unpack that particular identity crisis, Silver Streak and Shifting Hair had me by the elbows and were steering me toward the door.
“Wait,” I said, heels skidding a little on the rug. “Clarify ‘Lady.’ Like… courtesy Lady? Honorary Lady? Or the kind with land and responsibilities and… expectations?”
Shifting Hair glanced at me, brow furrowing. “You jest, my lady.”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “Jesting. That’s what I do. Hilarious over here.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they kept moving. The door swung open onto a corridor that made every hotel I’d ever stayed in look like a Motel 6. High stone walls, arched ceiling wi
