Page 4 of Water and Wild

“Yes, the meal one typically enjoys after waking from⁠—”

“I know what breakfast is, you insufferable⁠—”

Another person who looked entirely too put together for this ungodly hour waltzed into the room, cutting her off. Elyria’s periwinkle hair was damp, the end of her braid still dripping onto her dark tunic as she planted a light kiss on Evander’s cheek.

“Ah, of course. The Gryphon,” she mused. “So that’s what defeated our darling Kitty Kat.”

“Not another word, Lightbreaker,” Kit warned, rubbing her temples.

Elyria smirked, dropping into a chair with the easy grace of someone who had not spent the previous evening overindulging.

Evander perched on the arm of the chair, shaking his head at Kit. “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re both irritating.”

“But you love us,” Elyria said breezily, plucking an apple from a platter Kit hadn’t noticed her carrying. She set the plate on the table beside the settee with a grin. “And lucky for you, we love you too.”

“Not enough to be willing to leave me alone,” Kit said with a groan. “Surely a visit to all four quarters of hell would be less annoying than putting up with the two of you.”

“I think we need to work on a little thing called ‘perspective,’ darling,” Elyria said before biting into her apple.

“Speaking of which,” Evander said, turning to Elyria, “come with me.”

Elyria blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What? Where?”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “To get a proper breakfast before I leave for the palace.”

Elyria waved her apple in his face. “I’m good.”

Kit’s eyes widened slightly at the cool edge to her friend’s voice. She propped herself up on her elbows, eyeing the assortment of fruit on the platter before her with dubious interest. “What’s at the palace?”

Elyria pursed her lips. “Ask him. He won’t tell me.”

Evander’s brow creased before he opened his mouth to reply . . .

And quickly shut it as someone new strode through the drawing room doorway.

Kit bolted upright, wincing as blood rushed to her already pounding head. Because there, in all her cool, calm, collected glory, stood Duchess Laeliana Ravenswing.

Her long midnight robes swayed as she entered the room, golden eyes sweeping over the trio. Kit grimaced, suddenly very aware of how she must look. Surreptitiously, she tried to flatten a rogue lock of her silver-white hair that was playing at defying gravity.

“Ah,” said Laeliana, voice smooth as silk. “How lovely it is to see my children gathered together, awake and dressed”—her eyes flicked to Kit, still wearing yesterday’s rumpled and stained outfit—“before noon.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Kit grumbled.

Laeliana arched a delicate brow, the sunlight streaming in from the window behind her making her tawny skin glow. Her gaze landed on the goblet resting on the floor next to the settee.

Kit followed her gaze. “Oh, relax, Mother. That’s from last night. I promise I won’t imbibe until I’ve at least had a bite to eat.”

Evander coughed into his fist. Elyria buried her grin in her apple. Laeliana’s brow lifted higher, surveying her daughter for a long moment before flicking her gaze to Evander.

“You should leave for the palace soon. The king expects you within the hour.”

“Again with the palace,” Kit said, throwing her arms in the air before finally snatching a handful of grapes from the fruit platter and popping one into her mouth. “What does our uncle need with him?” she asked between chews.

Evander’s expression didn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just politics.”

Kit squinted at her brother. “You hate politics.”