[Lavinia's Pov---Dawnspire Wing—Continuation]
Marshi was still sulking like a giant, fluffy cloud of guilt. His head was lowered, his tail drooping, those big golden eyes shimmering with regret. I crouched down, patting his massive head like I was consoling a toddler who had just dropped his candy.
"There, there, Marshi. It's okay," I murmured, scratching under his chin. "It's just a dress, not the end of the world."
(Though, if Papa finds out, it might be the end of the world. For me. Not for Marshi. Because it's hard to convince sulky tyrant.)
I was still patting him when my gaze wandered to the tea set on the table. The untouched cup sat there, steamless, cold. I blinked at it.
"...Oh." I tilted my head. "The tea's cold."
Then I blinked at tea.
Then at Marshi.
Marshi blinked back, head tilted in confusion.
And then—oh, it was like the most wicked idea hatched right there in my tiny, mischievous brain. I smirked. Slowly. Deliberately.
