Page 57 of Claws and Effect

“Perfectly fine,” Marcello answered with artificial brightness. “Just sharing some family wisdom with my favorite niece.” He turned away with a small bow. “Until tomorrow’s council meeting.”

FORTY-FOUR

Laykin watched him go, the encounter leaving a chill despite the palace’s warm air. Her lioness prowled restlessly beneath her skin, sensing danger but unable to pinpoint its source. She turned to Zyle, about to share her concerns, when the atmosphere in the room suddenly lightened.

“Laykin! Zyle!” Seren’s cheerful voice broke through the tension as she swept into the room, carrying a tray of small pastries. Her vibrant presence was like a gust of fresh air through a stuffy room. “Your mother said I might find you here. She’s ordered coffee and dessert served in the small dining room.”

“Seren?” Laykin blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mother called me,” Seren replied with a grin. “Said something about needing reinforcements to keep the evening from becoming too stuffy. I brought your father’s favorite petit fours from that bakery downtown.”

“My mother called you,” Laykin repeated slowly.

“Don’t look so shocked. The Queen and I have been in cahoots for years.” Seren winked at Zyle. “She’s the one who taught me how to make Laykin’s favorite hangover cure.”

“Seren!” Laykin hissed, heat flooding her cheeks.

Zyle’s deep chuckle melted some of the tension from her shoulders. “Now that sounds like a story worth hearing.”

“Oh, I have dozens,” Seren promised, linking her arm through Laykin’s. “Come on, Her Majesty has arranged quite the spread. I counted at least eight different desserts.”

The small dining room glowed with warm candlelight, intimate in a way the formal dining hall could never be. Queen Juliette had indeed prepared a dessert extravaganza, with delicate pastries, fruit tarts, and chocolate confections arrayed on silver platters.

“So, Mr. Rubin,” King Leoric began as they settled around the table, “how is our daughter behaving in your home? Has she been causing chaos or maintaining some semblance of royal dignity?”

Laykin choked on her coffee. “Father!”

“What? It’s a reasonable question,” the king replied with a mischievous glint in his eye that reminded Laykin so much of herself. “The last time you stayed with non-family members, you reorganized their entire kitchen without permission.”

“I was sixteen,” Laykin protested. “And their spice arrangement was completely illogical.”

“She cooked for me,” Zyle offered, his expression softer than Laykin had ever seen in public. “Twice now.”

Seren gasped dramatically, hand over her heart. “Laykin. Cooked. For you?” She turned to the king and queen. “Did she burn his house down? Should we send reinforcements?”

“My princess never fails at anything she attempts,” King Leoric stated proudly. “I’m certain her culinary efforts were exceptional.”

Zyle’s mouth twitched with suppressed amusement. “She was beaten by my coffeemaker on the first attempt.”

“Traitor,” Laykin muttered, but couldn’t keep the smile from her face as Zyle continued.

“But her fried chicken and honey biscuits were extraordinary. Unlike anything I’ve had since childhood.”

Queen Juliette’s eyes widened. “You made fried chicken? Darling, you haven’t attempted cooking since culinary class in finishing school.”

“Where she set off three smoke alarms,” Seren added.

“I got the recipe from his mother,” Laykin admitted, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “She said it was his favorite comfort food growing up.”

The conversation flowed easily, stories and laughter replacing the earlier tension. Laykin found herself watching Zyle as he charmed her parents, answering her father’s business questions with genuine interest and discussing conservation efforts with her mother.

Something tightened in her chest as he laughed at one of Seren’s outrageous stories—the same laugh she’d heard when they were alone, unguarded and real. He wasn’t performing or negotiating; he was simply being himself with her family.

Her lioness purred contentedly.Mine.

The realization filled her with a certainty that steadied her racing thoughts about tomorrow’s council meeting and Marcello’s strange behavior.

FORTY-FIVE

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