And that was that. Ceremony over, all said and done, nothing to see here, move along.
Margaret looked impatient, clearly wanting to zippity-do-da her way back to Delusionland. But no way was she going while Mom still hovered, her Enforcers gathered around her in a tight, angry knot.
Mom, I sent, feeling the rush of her relief when she felt my magicks were partially at my disposal. Just go. It's cool. Go.
With a firm nod and a flash of blue power, she did, her Enforcers with her, so fast Margaret grunted at the rapid departure before waving irritably at the lot of us.
"Behave," she snapped. "Or else." Then, she gathered up her own posse and left.
Wow. Effective. Wish I'd thought to try telling the Queens not to hurt me.
Snort.
Batsheva turned in her throne and glared at Pannera. "Your turn," she said, all illusions of niceness, as thin as they were, vanished with the witches.