The sky was still dark when Gavriel stepped into the kitchens of the Archon’s palace of House Aetherion. Dawn had not yet broken. The halls were quiet and Melva nearly jumped when she saw him.

“Y–Your Majesty,” she blurted, bowing so quickly she almost knocked the basket in her arms to the floor.

Gavriel lifted a hand at once. “No need for that. I was looking for you.”

Melva straightened, confusion flickering across her face. “For me, sire?”

“Yes.” He glanced toward the ...