“If you needed to teach her a lesson, I’m sure I could whip something up for you,” Bubba said with a wink. “Just say the word.” His eyes gleamed hungrily, and I laughed.
Bubba was a chef, but his culinary skills extended beyond the kitchen. He was a master of potions and spells, much like Spencer had been, which made him invaluable to Morgana. Before Morgana discovered him, he owned a shop in Ironfell, known not only for his medicinal and healing elixirs but also for his more unconventional concoctions. Bubba offered standard remedies like contraceptives, beauty tonics, and hangover cures. However, it was his more unusual brews that drew villagers and soldiers from across the kingdom to his doorstep.
Bubba had told me he created elixirs that reversed one's emotions, some that silenced the drinker for a considerable amount of time, even ones that had people speak only in riddles or song until they drank the antidote. He once told me he even made one that compelled the drinker to speak only the truth. Having seen some of these, I had to admit, his mixtures were entertaining.
I knew he missed the freedom of being able to create, of owning his own shop. But, like the rest of us, his choices were no longer his own. And now, with Jaxon having murdered Spencer—good fucking riddance—Bubba was sure to be even busier than usual here.
“That is tempting,” I replied with a grin, meeting his conspiratorial glance before turning back to Cynthia, who was shoveling cheese cubes into her mouth without shame.
My chest tightened, and I took another long sip from my glass. She wasn’t going to like what I had to say, but I was doing it for her own good.
“She knows, Cynthia.”
Cynthia stilled. Her warm brown gaze cut to mine, cheeks still full as she slowly chewed. She looked down into her goblet, face flushing as she swallowed the bulk of cheese in her cheeks, almost choking. “I know,” she rasped, coughing to clear her throat. Cynthia’s gaze cut to her glass, focusing instead on the dark swirl of liquid in her cup. She spun it once, then shot me an exaggerated look. “Wearing your dead mother's face and makingmebe your only friend was kind of a dead giveaway.”
Bubba looked between us, his brows creasing in confusion. “What are you two going on about?”
We ignored him.
I narrowed my gaze. “That’s why you need to leave.”
Cynthia dropped her glass with a curse, scrambling for a rag. She snapped her head up at me. “Leave?”
“Yes.”
“No,” she said immediately. “I’m not leaving you. Not now.”
“You are.” My voice cut sharply. “I’ll have Freya assign you elsewhere. Quietly. She won’t question it—”
“No!”
“—and she won’t suspect I was involved.”
“No,” Cynthia snapped more harshly and I slammed my hands against the table and rose.
“Yes, Cynthia, you are.”
Cynthia was about to argue, rising from her seat, her finger pointing threateningly toward me, when the door slammed open.
We spun in its direction, all of us reaching for our weapons.
The king stormed in, his heavy boots slapping against the floor. My father's face was cold and twisted with an angryscowl. His thick red scar pulsed on the side of his neck, his jaw clenching. I forgot how brutish he looked without his human glamor. The full force of his presence filled the room and charged the air around us.
Cynthia and Bubba leapt to attention, straightening the moment they saw him. I, however, sat back in my seat. Turning my back to him, I reached for some more cheese and tossed a few into my mouth, deliberately looking bored. I could feel his glare on my back, and I silently placed a shield around me and my friends in anticipation.
“Do you care to tell me what the fuck happened today?” he barked, and Cynthia and Bubba exchanged a look before taking a few steps back, clearing the space for his fury to focus solely on me.
“Is Morgana keeping secrets from you now?”
I glanced over my shoulder at him and watched as his blue eyes flared. Whips of shadow shot toward me, but they bounced off my shield, only making him more furious.
Smirking at him, I lowered it and sighed, facing him fully as I straddled the bench.
He knew I was more powerful than he was. And he hated it, but he had a soft spot for me… or at least I thought, and well, he was my only living blood, so I guess I didn’t hate him.
“You dare speak to your king like that?” he spat, and I rolled my eyes. He only dragged out his title when he was truly pissed.
“I did nothing other than clean up after Lana,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “Again.”
