Pink magic snapped around Tristan the moment he touched her. He began walking back down the aisle, carrying her bridal style. She blinked, surprised that he had just scooped her off the ground in front of the entire Fae court like she was a cat stuck in a tree it had chosen, climbed, and then refused to admit it needed help.
Her mouth opened. Tristan looked forward and continued moving, communicating exactly how open he was to discussing her ability to walk or whether she should be protecting the woman he had just ordered the arrest of. Both topics were dead on arrival.
Her pink magic continued to spread. To the guards. To the guests. To every person within range. Apparently her magic had decided to protect everyone indiscriminately, which defeated the purpose of a threat display so thoroughly it became comedy.
