“I don’t think plants are meant to do that,” I said, stepping into the room.
Cyrene jumped, spinning toward me. The plant did an enthusiastic twirl and promptly fell onto its side, soil spilling across the table.
“Kieran.” Her cheeks flushed a lovely pink. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“I brought breakfast.” I held up the tray like an offering.
Her eyes widened. “You brought me breakfast again? Personally?”
“I even helped prepare it.” I set the tray on a clear space at the table placed in front of a window. “The head cook was quite helpful.”
She blinked, and a slow smile spread across her face, warming me from the inside out. “Again, this is quite sweet of you. You know you don’t need to keep doing this for me. I can go to the kitchen myself.”
“I like doing it.”
“Yes, but the kitchens?” She laughed, the sound making my heart skip. “You’re the king.”
“And you’re the queen, yet you also visit the kitchen.”
Her gaze darted from mine. “They’re nice there.”
And those living inside the castle were not. I would fix that, and soon.
I pulled a chair out for her.
She sat, and I took the seat across from her. Quandary immediately abandoned his perch to fly over to the windowsill, eyeing the tray suspiciously.
“Did you poison it?” Cyrene asked, her eyes twinkling with humor.
“Only with my charming company.”
She rolled her eyes and picked up a tartlet. “Then I accept my fate.”
I watched, entranced, as she bit into the pastry. A small noise of pleasure escaped her throat, and satisfaction surged through me. I’d done that. I’d made her happy, if only for a moment.
“Good?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Mmm.” She swallowed. “Exactly how I like them. Did you tell the kitchens, or…?”
“You’ve made quite an impression on my staff. They know many of your preferences. The way you take your tea, how you like your eggs, even which direction the flowers should face.”
She glanced at the purple blossom, positioned perfectly to catch the morning light.
I said. “I should have been paying more attention.”
She shook her head, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “You’ve had a kingdom to run, Kieran. No one expects you to memorize breakfast preferences.”
“I expect it of myself.” I turned my hand to catch hers. “I want to know everything about you. Not just the important things but the small details too. The ones that make you who you are.”
Her fingers tightened around mine. “Ask me anything.”
“How do you prefer your roast, rare or well-done?”
She blinked, then laughed. “That’s your first question? Not about my magic or my past or my family?”
“Those too,” I said. “But let’s start with the roast.”
“Rare. My mother always cooked it that way, and I can’t eat it any other way now.”
