OUTSIDE, the sleek black car sat idling.
Lucson stood by the door, tapping his foot with royal impatience. Mason was already inside, and Carson was leaning against the wheel, tossing an apple in the air.
Seryn stood on the porch, looking at the car with a look of pure, exaggerated dread.
"Oh, Lucson," she sighed, her voice loud enough to carry. "Are we really leaving now? In this light? My human skin is so sensitive to the morning chill. I feel quite... faint."
"Get in the car, Seryn," Lucson said, his voice flat. "You've caused enough trouble for one morning."
Seryn leaned against a pillar, fluttering her eyelashes. "It's just that... I had such a lovely idea. Since I'm essentially a guest of the Ashfords now, and since Grayson's estate is so much better equipped for 'mortal' needs than the Manor's drafty towers... shouldn't we have one last meal together? A truce dinner?"
