Foulo puffs his chest, looking pleased. He steps forward, reaching around me to grab Alix’s hand. “Come. The king is in the throne room. I’ll walk you there.” “Oh—” Alix blurts out as Foulo tugs her roughly forward. “I’m fine on my own.” “Nonsense,” Foulo says, too enthusiastically. He grips her too tightly, dragging her like a limp rag doll away from me and further into the palace. Spontaneous rage erupts inside me. Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots out, gripping the back of Foulo’s jacket. “Let her go. Now.”
