A massive, over-the-top kitchen. My jaw hit the floor.
The walls were lined with floating shelves made from some kind of magic wood that couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be—mood lighting for the chronically indecisive, I guessed. Pots and pans hovered above the shelves like they were auditioningfor Kitchenware: The Musical, ready to leap into action at any moment.
Self-serving plates drifted across the room, carrying food and ingredients as if some invisible butler had finally snapped and quit caring about being discreet. The whole setup was equal parts fascinating and completely ridiculous.
At least twenty ovens—sleek, borderline sentient, and probably smarter than the average male in this place—hummed with magical precision. Their doors opened and closed on their own, trays of food levitating in and out with an insane level of efficiency. The flames inside burned a mesmerizing blue, flickering with a smugness which suggested they knew how perfect they were.
Even the floors were enchanted, the tiles swallowing spills like they’d taken an oath against messiness. In the corner, a sink filled and emptied itself with a casual wave, spouting streams of liquid light that obliterated grime as if dirt had personally insulted it.
Honestly, the entire kitchen had the vibe of a show-off magician who also moonlighted as a cleaning fanatic—Harry Potter’s house-elves meet Monica Geller in an "Extreme Makeover: Magi Edition"episode.
"Now this is more like it," I mumbled, thinking back to my first time arriving in Cyclos and finding myself comparing the two.
“Ye like it?” Sean asked, flashing me a grin.
“Very ‘if Merlin had Pinterest board’,” I replied, giving the place a mental nod of approval for its over-the-top magical flex.
Sean chuckled. “We might’ve taken some creative liberties with translation. Got to keep up with the wizarding world, yeah?”
I tried not to snort, half-expecting a flying gnome to pop out and offer me tea. “I’m sure a fantasy interior designer somewhere is weeping with joy.”
The room beyond was a bustling hub of activity. People were rushing around, laughing and chatting, the air filled with energy. Unlike the Offensives of Cyclos, who were standoffish and elitist, this team had the warmth and camaraderie of a close-knit family. As Caden moved among them, he engaged in conversation with almost everyone, his sudden charm and ease effortlessly drawing people in.
Guess even the devil has a charming side.
“I don’t get it, they’re all Offensives? Are there no other functions at Crown?” I asked Sean quietly.
He shook his head. “Crown’s way bigger than only Caerleon Manor. As a Collective, we’ve got most of the usual functions, like any other Collective. But yeah, here at Caerleon, it’s mostly Offensives, with a few exceptions.”
He pointed to a large man in the center of the room, who was clearly in the middle of an animated story, surrounded by an eager audience. “That’s Max, our tree worker. We’ve got a lot of grounds and nature around here, and he’s responsible for every inch of it.”
Sean nodded toward a blond guy with striking blue eyes. “There’s Tintin, our resident author. He’s a Historian, like your Leader, Maria.”
Finally, he gestured to a woman with almost white hair, who I’d recognized from our meeting. “And that’s Margaux, our Healer, like Maurice was. Most of the Healers are tucked away in Manors up north, but she prefers our company and stays here most of the year.”
Sean then led us further inside, and the room fell momentarily silent as everyone turned to see who had arrived.They were staring at me as ifIwere their enemy. Seriously though, what had I ever done tothem?
I was about to step back out when a strikingly beautiful woman entered the room, her presence immediately commanding attention.
Her long, red, curly hair and confident stride drew the attention of everyone in the room, but she seemed most captivated with Caden. She walked straight to him, and they exchanged a few words that were quickly absorbed into the din of kitchen. The woman paused for a moment, her laughter like a soft melody. Then, with a final, lingering glance at Caden, she turned and walked out, her figure disappearing through the door.
I noticed Sean hovering nearby, his attention pinned to the door the woman had just exited. My curiosity got the better of me.
“Who is she?” I asked, as I nodded subtly toward the gorgeous woman who had departed.
Sean’s tone was casual. “That was Saoirse. She’s an Offensive as well, second cycler like Enya but lethal with knives. Does a lot of solo-operations when she’s not out with Caden.”
I cocked my head slightly, and crossed my arms in response. I hated to admit it, but I was a little intrigued. “Is she his girlfriend?”
Sean let out a low chuckle, brushing a hand through his hair like the idea genuinely amused him. “Gods, no. Caden doesn’t do girlfriends.”
I rolled my eyes, not even a little surprised by this revelation. “So, who is she then?”
Sean exhaled slowly and turned toward me, hands slipping into his pockets. “He doesn’t really like what we call them, but we refer to her as one of his regulars.”
“If he doesn’t like it, what doeshecall them?” I pressed, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.
Before Sean could answer, Caden appeared out of nowhere, his face set in a stern expression. “Women,” he said curtly. “I call them women.”
