Jace looks at Gray and me like we’re his last hope for justice in an unjust world. “Tell her. Tell her about pancake jurisdiction. About sacred breakfast territory.”
Gray’s lips are twitching. “Well—”
“This is a violation,” Jace continues dramatically. “A culinary coup. An overthrow of established pancake government.”
That’s when Rhett and Theo appear, ready to get this Oath conversation over with.
“Explanation time?” Rhett asks, taking in the scene.
“Mairen made better pancakes,” I explain.
“They’re not better,” Jace protests. “They’re different. Illegally different.”
Theo picks up one of Mairen’s pancakes and takes a bite. His eyebrows rise. “These are really good.”
“Traitor,” Jace mutters.
“Try one,” Mairen offers, holding out the plate to Jace with maternal patience.
He eyes it like it might bite him. “I already know what my pancakes taste like.”
“These aren’t your pancakes, remember?” Gray points out. “These are illegal pancakes.”
“Exactly—” Jace stops, glares at him. “You’re not helping.”
“Just try it,” I say.
Jace takes the pancake like he’s accepting evidence of his own failure. Bites it. Chews slowly.
His expression goes through another cycle. This time ending on grudging admiration.
“Fine,” he mutters. “They’re good.”
“They’re better than good,” Theo says around another bite.
“They’re not Sanctuary Supremes though,” Jace insists. “They’re… they’re…”
“Superior Sanctuary Stacks?” I suggest.
Jace points at all of us accusingly. “You’re all banned from my kitchen.”
“Is it still your kitchen if Mairen’s the one making the food?” Theo asks innocently.
Before Jace can respond to that devastating blow, footsteps echo from the main hallway. Heavier. More deliberate.
Stellan appears in the doorway.
He takes in the scene with that particular stillness of his—Mairen at the stove, Jace’s theatrical outrage, the rest of us gathered around like we’re watching dinner theater. His gray eyes scan the group, noting who’s here and who’s not.
“Domestic bliss,” he observes. “How charming.”
There’s something in his tone that makes the easy humor drain out of the room. Not cruel, exactly but like he’s seeing something the rest of us are missing.
“Explanations,” Rhett explains when Stellan’s gray eyes scan the group. “That was the deal.”
“I can see that.” Stellan moves further into the kitchen, his presence immediately shifting the energy. “Though I suspect the truth won’t be as comforting as Jace’s… or Mairen’s cooking.”
The chamber. Riley. The ash and mirrors and the feeling that we’d stepped into a place that shouldn’t exist.
