TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING
“It’s because you’re the most important. They egg you first. It’s an honour. You’re the guest of honour at the egg festival.”
“I am not comforted by that—”
“My king.” Queenie has recovered enough to speak, barely, wiping her eyes. “I need you to understand that when we get home, I am commissioning a painting of this. The Lycan King, Effigy Form, With Moustache. I’m hanging it in the entrance hall. Right next to the—” she catches herself, glances at me, and we both dissolve again, because right next to the marble penis at the front gate is exactly where it’s going and we both know it.