Samantha's P. O. V

Cassandra moved up and down the counter, rearranging the ingredients, opening and closing the pot lid, picking up a spoon just to set it down again.

She looked busy, but also confused.

I didn't ask. I just sat lazily on the chair, one leg crossed over the other.

After a few minutes, she set two glasses down in front of me.

“Golden Saffron”, she said, nodding towards the steaming glass. “That's traditional. Served at every royal morning council”.

Then she ...