"If you don't like me here, then why did you open the door?" A pang of regret speared my chest because I knew I wasn't playing fair.
He closed his eyes and groaned, likely haunted by my s****l fantasy I'd flashed him.
"Straw. Fennel seeds." I shrugged. "That's all I need."
"Yes, Your Highness," he growled then shuffled to the kitchen.
"Thanks." I figured I owed him quite a lot of gratitude, but that single word didn't seem to do it. He was hobbling around his house for me, after all. "I'd get them myself, but I don't know where you keep them."
To escape all these feelings, I busied myself with Nasty. My gut churned at the sight of five cracks zigzagging across the outer shell, which distorted the N in Nasty to look like an H. But hallelujah on a stack of rainbows and kittens, it pow
