Betty POV
"Drop the fruit, Betty. We need to move."
Leonardo did not shout. He did not have to. His boots slurred against the kitchen flagstones as he skidded to a halt in front of my face.
I kept my teeth sunk deep into the apple. The skin split, sour juice leaking over my bottom lip. I did not drop it. I just blinked at him through the steam rising from the massive copper pots of broth behind us. The kitchen staff had all gone dead silent. Three women in flour-stained aprons froze with their knives hovering over heaps of chopped turnips.
"Luka is still with the King," Leonardo said. His throat bobbed. A thin line of sweat tracked through the dirt on his jaw line. "Adriel locked the war room doors twenty minutes ago. You are under my detail until the sun goes down."
I pulled the appl
