"Fine," she said to the sky. "Fine."
She sat up. Picked Onyx up with both hands, lifting him off her chest with the practical efficiency of a woman who had decided that if she was going to be humiliated, she was going to be humiliated on her feet.
Onyx settled into her arms immediately. His head found the crook of her elbow. His tail curled around her forearm. His eyes closed halfway, and the chirping dimmed to a steady, contented purr that vibrated through her ribcage.
She looked at the handlers, who were watching with expressions that ranged from stunned to terrified. She looked at the dragon in her arms, who was looking back at her with an adoration that was chemically indistinguishable from love.
"He is coming with me," Bellatrix announced. "He is bored, he is surrounded by idiots, and he could use a proper wardrobe. I will return him when I decide to return him."
She did not ask permission. Queens did not ask permission. Queens informed.
