“Riven. What the fuck are you doing standing over me?”
“Good, you’re awake,” I choke out as I rub my poor esophagus.
He sneers at me and squints his eyes when I flick his lamp on.
“Someone better be dead.”
“Oh, someone’s going to be. Don’t you worry your pretty little black heart. I need a favor from you.”
“What time is it?”
“We don’t have time for silly questions. In let’s say—well, actually, how long does it take to bake cookies?”
“I know good and fucking well you didn’t wake me up to ask about cookies.”
“Yes. Could you give me an estimated time of completion from start to finish?”
He groans, flopping his arm over his face. I pick it up and grin at the scowl he gives me.
“Thirty minutes or so, Riven. Why?”
“Thirty minutes…okay. Here’s what I need you to do. In one hour, I need you to bake a batch of cookies for me. Leave them on the counter when you’re done if I’m not back.”
“Fuck no. Get out of my room.”
I snatch the pillow he attempts to cover his face with and throw it across his room. My apologetic smile for whatever that was that crashed to the ground doesn’t work on him.
I don’t have time for this.
I’ll have to pull out the big threats.
“You will cook them, or I will give it a go myself.”
His eyes narrow.
“The last time you tried to cook something, you forgot about it in the cooker. The house smelled like char for days.”
“Well, practice makes perfect. I’ll try again.”
“No. Why can’t you wait until this afternoon?”
“Because I’m setting a trap for my little burden.”
Maybe I should’ve started there. That gets his attention.
“How many do you think she’ll want?”
“Be on the safe side and make two trays.”
I obviously need a tray for myself.
“What are you doing in the meantime if you want me to wait an hour before starting?”
“Duty calls.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Is there a death schedule I’m not aware of? Must be nice. There are no set hours for Empowering. I go where and when I’m needed.”
