Page 14 of The Alliance

“I’ll just go and change my shirt,” said Darren, leaning across to kiss my temple. “You sit down and start dinner.”

I grabbed his hand before he could leave. I knew it was stupid, but I felt like I would fall apart if he wasn’t there.

That soft smile made his lips curl like petals. “I’ll change it after dinner, as long as nobody minds.”

Everyone shook their heads.

I sat, still feeling foolish.

I was sitting near Alfie and his mate, Blaze. I could smell Blaze from here and realised that I’d got used to having Darren’s scent around the place, along with Gramps’ human scent, but I was going to have to get used to another being who didn’t conceal their scent. Our castle was getting full of them now, what with Anthony and Matty, both being human, and Arram, a dryad.

Blaze smelled of burning, and it made my stomach lurch with the memory of all the food I’d burned over the years.

Darren heaped some spaghetti onto my plate and said, “Eat. You’ve earned it.”

A few seats down from me, Alfie took a bite of a meatball and groaned.

“Mm, this is delicious. I can’t believe you made it without any magic. Am I allowed to say that? This is why Father never let me go to the formaldinners, because he knew I’d say something silly. I’m terribly sorry, Lady Hoskins. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

Nana nodded graciously to the blonde young man.

“You will learn that what we consider polite is very different from your father’s rules. You haven’t offended.”

“Phew! Thank goodness. This really is delicious. Morgan, do you think I’d be able to learn to cook?”

Seren perked up and practically shouted, “Ilearned to cook! Didn’t I, Dane? We get to do all sorts of fun stuff in the Hoskins castle that we weren’t allowed to do in the Somerville one.”

The old lady at the end of the table beside Nana gave a slight sniff. I wasn’t sure if it was dismissive or not.

Alfie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Youcan cook?”

Seren crowed, “Yes, I can. We all take turns here.”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure Mrs. Wilson would like us taking turns. She doesn’t like people touching her kitchen.”

Dane tilted his head in confusion. “Who’s Mrs. Wilson?”

Alfie said, “She’s our chef,” as though it were obvious.

“Is she a dragon?”

“No, she’s a sprite.”

“Does she work for you?”

“Yes.”

“Then can’t you go into your own kitchen?”

Alfie fidgeted with his cutlery and I felt a wave of pity for him. I recognised someone else who thought he messed up a lot and he was struggling under the rows upon rows of eyes looking at him right then.

Eventually, Alfie blurted out, “She’s quite scary,” and then clamped his mouth shut.

I nearly burst out laughing.

The golden dragon was afraid of his sprite chef? It seemed incredibly amusing to me. I didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eye in case I did actually laugh. But I knew from experience that even the most well-meaning laughter could sound different to the person who had caused it. I never wanted Alfie to think we were laughingathim.

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