By the time we got back to the mansion, Maya was already kicking off her shoes in the foyer like she owned the place. Her curls bounced with every step as she beelined straight to the kitchen.
“You seriously don’t have a single snack out? What kind of princess dungeon are you living in?” she called from the hallway.
“It’s not a dungeon,” I muttered, trailing behind her. “It’s just… quiet.”
“Quiet? It’s dead. I don’t trust houses this clean.” She flung open a cabinet, gasping like she struck gold. “Bingo. Imported chocolate-covered almonds. I’m stealing these.”
“You don’t even like almonds.”
“They’re luxury almonds. I make exceptions.”
We made our way back to my room, arms full of snacks and two fuzzy blankets I dragged out of a linen closet. I’d barely sat down before Maya flopped on
