“Ceannaire! Ceannaire Banrion!” called a chirpy cricketoid character as they barreled through the crowd. Other Fae glanced to their plum-colored scarf and quickly scampered out of their way.

“Messenger,” the Chancellor hissed quickly to Fenn. “This cannot be pleasant… Nuacht dom?” she greeted the newcomer, switching easily back into her own language. A rapid conversation passed between the two. Fenn watched the chatter passively and wiped seadir juice off his chin, not understanding a lick of it.

“Uimh! Taimid tuirseach,” Banrion snapped through a slight snarl.

The messenger clasped their hands shyly in front of their chest. “Caithfidh tu… D'ordaigh Rialoir Morrighna e.”

Her mane flared, Banrion reluctantly nodded and dismissed them. “Go raibh maith agat, Emer.”

With a fluttering bow, the cricket scampered off through the snow. As soon as they vanished amid the market, Fenn tugged Banrion’s sleeve curiously. “My regrets, Pigwidgeon,” she said through sighs, nearly patting him on the head again. “Morrighna has summoned -- rather, demanded -- me to attend a ball she scheduled for this evening. As always, I helped her organize the event. I did not, however, agree to attend. She is fully aware that I dislike her gatherings. I suppose she simply wanted to subject you to them as well.”

Fenn frowned and wrung his hands together. He liked parties, but he didn't like the idea of attending one thrown by Morrighna.

“Cease your worry. All will be well so long as you stick by me.” She gestured back toward the palace. “Come along now. Our dear, glorious Regent will have toothy words for me if we aren't quick enough for her taste.”