FATED TO A TYRANT
As if he had summoned it, a gust of wind that had a lovely scent of lavender, intermingled with the soothing aroma of spearmint, blew into the room through the window, carrying with it flickering images of luminescent and translucent mint leaves.
The wind and magical fake leaves then coalesced into a shimmering but pellucid spiritual familiar in the form of a swan.
Because, of course, everything about Miss Banfey was beautiful and elegant. Including her spiritual familiar.
I couldn’t even stop the awe-filled ‘wow’ that pushed past my lips.
Enchanted, I watched closely as the swan gracefully floated in the air, moving closer to us.
“Beautiful, Gee,” the swan spoke, but it wasn’t Miss Banfey’s
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