The dining room in the East Palace had the peaceful warmth of late morning: sunlight folded itself in long golden rectangles across the tablecloth, carrying the faint scent of lemon polish and freshly baked rolls. It should have felt harmless. It should have.
But Serathine and Cressida sat across from Chris, and nothing was ever harmless when those two were quietly enjoying themselves.
Chris placed his palms on the table, inhaled, exhaled, and went directly to the point, because delaying anything in front of them would only encourage them to circle like well-bred sharks.
"I need a favor."
Serathine's brows lifted with soft interest and Cressida set her teacup down slowly, as though granting the sentence an appropriate stage.
"Do tell," Cressida murmured. "We do so enjoy morning entertainment."
Chris considered throwing himself through the nearest window, decided against it despite his instincts, and continued:
