The High Seer Sibyl Belladonna adjusted her speed and slowed to a gentle glide once she passed the gates of Faria.
It was still fairly early but in the dead of winter, the sun had dropped below the horizon two hours earlier and now the city was all lit up below her.
Above her was an almost full moon. Sibyl tried not to fly during the days of the full moon because her little scooter always looked like a witch's broom cast against the brightness of the moonlight, but sometimes, it was unavoidable.
She aimed her scooter handle bars for the Gilded Rosehips Tea Shop and plunged down. As she got closer to the roofline, she dropped the scooter down until it hovered over the balcony of the second story window.
With a single motion of her hand, the scooter slowly sank down onto the balcony.
"Mattie! Tarot!" Sibyl called out, rapping on the glass window.
There was a rattling sound of footsteps running up the stairs.
"Mother!" An excited voice called out and suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around Sibyl, crushing her torso with the strength of a strapping young male.
"Ooof!!! Tarot! Ease up, ease up Sweetie. I can't breathe!" Sibyl gasped.
"Mother! You're back." Tarot pulled back and gave her a happy smile.
"Yes, I'm home again." She ruffled his long dark hair hair with loving fondness. "Have you been minding your aunt Mattie while I was away?"
"Yes Mother." He grinned cheekily, his flouncy pink shirt waving in the gusty winter air.
"Let's go inside. It's chilly out here." She gently nudged him back in through the balcony.
Fifteen minutes later, Sibyl and Mattie were seated by the fireplace, sipping on mulled cider while Tarot sat on the floor playing with Mojo the dead stuffed cat.
For a dead cat, Mojo was still quite mobile. He jumped and batted his paws with unerring accuracy at the goose feathered badminton birdie that Tarot kept tossing at him.
The witches watched Tarot play with Mojo for a while, not saying much. It was enough that Sibyl was finally home again. She had been away far too long.
"Mattie. Why is my son dressed in a flouncy pink shirt like some dandy?" Sibyl glanced at Tarot's flounced cuffed shirt in a tender rose pink over a pair of dark trousers.
Mathilda smiled. "This is the Gilded Rosehips Tea Shop. Pink is the shop's theme color and that's his work uniform."
Sibyl glared at Mathilda. "Are you trying to turn my boy into a girl?"
Mathilda laughed. "All the women come in and they can't get enough of looking at him. They think he looks like some hot male out of a dusty old romance novel. Good for business."
Sibyl rolled her eyes. "My son is not a male model to attract business for you. While I'm here, put him in normal clothing."
Mathilda sighed. "Fine, fine. He can wear his normal clothes."
She took a sip of her hot chocolate and turned to a more serious topic.
"So what are you going to do? I mean, you can't just show up at the King's Palace and say, 'Talia, let me in. I'm your mother!" Mattie grimaced
Sibyl laughed. "Why not? She's my daughter."
But then she sobered. "I can also approach her in a more roundabout way so it doesn't shock her as much."
"How?"
"I can send Tarot in with a message."
Tarot paused his playing, ears completely focused on the conversation between his mother and Aunt Mathilda.
He had heard about his older sister ever since he was a child, but he had never met her before. All he knew was that she had been sent to a school faraway.
He had always thought that once his sister finished her schooling, she would return and live with them, but suddenly, his sister had returned to Faria in the arms of the latest King of Faria, Cedric Blaxtone.
The knowledge filled Tarot with immense pride.
Of course his sister would be the Alpha King's Mate. Could she be anything less? She was his mother's child and his mother was the High Seer of Faria.
Aunt Mathilda was speaking again.
"Hmm. Sending Tarot into the palace…would that work?"
"Of course it would work. He is a Grand Duke after all, no matter what his age is. If he seeks an audience with the First Consort, she will grant it."
"Wait. First Consort?" Mathilda looked up. "Why would she be First Consort?"
"Isn't she his mate?" Sibyl gave Mathilda a questioning look.
"Yes, but why would his mate be First Consort? Wouldn't she be his Queen?"
Sibyl sighed. "Mattie. The position of Queen is a political one. It is used to tie two powerful entities or kingdoms into allied support structures for each other."
She shook her head with deep sadness.
"No king would waste such a position on a mate."
Mathilda looked into the fire to hide the sympathy in her eyes. She knew this was personal for Sibyl and did not want to pick at a wound that had never really healed.
"But Sib. I heard that the new king threw his fiancée out of the kingdom, along with his brother, the former Alpha King. There are no concubines left in the palace either other than a few old ones who belonged to the old retired king Cyrus."
Sibyl blinked. "He did that?"
"Yes. I've also seen him interact with your daughter. He seems to be very loving towards her."
Sibyl shook her head. "That doesn't mean anything. Kings will act loving toward their mate simply because it's their mate. It doesn't mean she will be holding a more important position in his life other than a Consort."
Mathilda sighed. "We'll have to wait and see how this new King treats his mate."
"I can go and find out more about her situation." Tarot spoke up for the first time.
Sibyl turned to look at her only son with proud eyes. He had grown into an intelligent strong young man.
She had raised him single-handedly all through the years, and the one year that she had left him with Mattie to take care of important work, he'd suddenly blossomed.
She could see the hints of the man he would become, with the thickening of his jawline and the strengthening of his frame.
He was starting to look more and more like his father.
Sibyl shut down her thoughts at that point. She would not think of that man. Curse him.
Mathilda turned back to Sibyl. "You say you will send Tarot in with a message for the new King. What kind of message would that be?"
Sibyl gave Mathilda a mysterious smile.
"One that he cannot refuse to listen to."