“Yes, Mama!” he chirps, far too loudly, before diving back into his stew.
I laugh, the sound surprising even me.
Maybe for the first time since I was dragged into this insane place, I don’t feel quite so alone.
Corin’s spoon clatters against his bowl, and I laugh again, because it’s either that or cry, and I’m not about to cry in front of my Demon-maid-slash-Mrs.-Torino lookalike.
The laugh feels good, though. Normal.
Like I could almost forget I was dragged through a whirlpool by a horned man who kissed oxygen into my lungs.
Almost.
“Would you like stew as well, Lady Phoebe?” Amber asks, fussing now, trying to redirect me back to proper dining protocols, but I just nod at the nearest pot.
“Yes, please. Whatever that one is—it smells amazing.”
“White fish stew,” Corin supplies around a mouthful, grinning like he’s proud to share.
“White fish stew it is,” I say, matching his grin.
Amber sighs and mutters something under her breath about manners and Lord help me, but she heads off toward the hearth to fetch a bowl.
I lean on the rough wood table, watching Corin color his block with little black streaks.
“What are you making?”
“A boat,” he says proudly. “It’s gonna have sails and everything.”
My heart twists. A normal kid in a not-so-normal world. Maybe this isn’t all teeth and darkness.
Maybe—but then the air changes.
It thickens, charged like before a thunderstorm.
My skin prickles with tiny shards of awareness before I even hear the shift in the room.
The bustle of the kitchen slows, then stops entirely.
Voices die, pots are set down, spoons clatter.
Everyone moves in unison like waves drawing back from the shore.
Because now he’s here.
Kael.
Demon Lord of Water. And somehow, maybe mine?
Chapter 9
Phoebe
The Kitchen—Castletide
Storm-colored eyes lock on me the way gravity locks planets in orbit.
There is something mystical about them.
