“Mimsy,” I sighed and glared at the green imp in exasperation.
“I washelping!” it insisted with no explanation ofhowthey were helping.
My arms and back throbbed with the knowledge that I needed to fix the problem tonight. The bath would have to wait.
I teleported directly into the kitchen. The smell of burnt vegetables, oil, and heavy spices smacked me in the face. My eyes watered and I choked, stumbling out of the open kitchen door to gulp in fresh air. “Mimsy!” I shouted, but the imp was two floors above my head and either couldn’t hear me or pretended not to.
Someone cleared their throat, and I turned toward the lacertian standing awkwardly outside of the kitchen. Iridescence shimmered over their scales as they flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, Lord of Grimnight, Master Wilde, sir …”
I wasn’t the Lord of Grimnight, but I had taken charge of the lair, so I motioned for the minion to continue.
“I’m sorry about all the fuss, but the imps thought that because we’re reptilian we ate rodents. When we tried to explain our preference for fish, they caught some live ones, and we don’t reallyeatraw fish. So we wantedto build a campfire to cook it, but then one of the imps claimed we aren’t allowed to start fires inside the lair—”
At least they remembered that rule.
“—outside of the kitchen. None of us had ever used a stove before, so the imp offered to help, and, well.” The minion gestured helplessly at the charred kitchen.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I will write up some instructions for the stove. In the future, never trust the imps around fire, even when it’s contained in a metal box.”
I turned my attention back to the kitchen, surveying the damage. The oven had become a black, twisted mess with smoke spilling out of it. Whatever food they’d tried to cook was splattered all over the ceiling and floor. Even the small dining table hadn’t escaped the destruction, though I didn’t know why it was missing two legs or a chunk from the middle.
Sighing, I focused on what the kitchen had looked like previously—the decades old stove; the blue and white tiles; the white ceiling; a clean,intacttable. I held that picture in my mind as I waved my hand through the air, the same motion as wiping a window clean.
The charred scent was sucked out of my nostrils so quickly I sneezed. I struggled to hold my focus on the spell through the distracting sensation of the air shifting around us. Wind could technically move any direction it wanted, but this was distinctlybackwards.
The oven righted itself, expanding back into its previous box shape. The metal was dark but no longer burnt. A pot of boiling vegetables appeared on one burner, bubbling pleasantly. Heat wafted from the oven, carrying with it the scent of seasoned fish.
Then Mimsy popped back into its position at the stove, stirring the vegetables cheerfully. When it spotted me, it waved excitedly and exclaimed, “Master Wilde! You’re home! I’m cooking dinner!”
“Out of the way,” I said, shooing Mimsy to the side. “How many times have I told you not to play with fire?”
“I’m notplaying, I’mcooking,” Mimsy insisted, but it relinquished the spoon to me and fluttered off to find its companions.
The lacertian stared at me from the doorway. “How did you …”
I snorted. “You work for an evil mage, but can’t recognize magic?”
“That wasn’t just magic, that was …” They shook their head and backed out of the room, leaving me to finish fixing their meal.
I couldn’t guarantee the taste of anything, but at least I wouldn’t burn down the lair. Once the vegetables seemed sufficiently softened and the fish thoroughly cooked, I took everything off the stove and set the table. “Dinner’s ready!”
I didn’t stick around to eat with anyone. A bath was calling my name, and I had a full day of work ahead of me tomorrow.
Chapter Four: Wilde
Three Days Later
The Kingdom of “Woe”
Picking Up a Passenger
Something looked different about Princess Delilah Woeful. I watched subtly from a spot beside the carriage as she tackled Trey to the ground, giggling with glee. The laughter didn’t fool me—I’d seen the claw marks she’d left behind on the imps.
Ah, that’s the problem.
This version of Delilah did not have cat ears or a tail. The only time I’d seen her without them had been during our final confrontation. Her neck was bare of the ever-present collar that granted her the feline features. It’d probably been lost while she’d fought the minions. It was a good thing she wouldn’t remember me, or she’d probably blame me for its loss.
As if she’d read my mind, her large brown eyes suddenly found me and narrowed into suspicious slits. Feline features or not, those were the eyes of a predator.
