Lunch with Margaret is a revelation. Unlike Canum, her presence doesn’t leave me anxious. She’s sane, warm, regal without cruelty. For the first time in days, I relax. Her voice carries the weight of lineage but none of the venom. She makes me promise to return, to bring my parents next time, her words weaving a fragile thread of hope into the ash‑laden air.
“That wasn’t too bad. Though my mother sometimes hovers,” Phantom says, his lips twitching in amusement, eyes steady on mine. His tone is casual, but the way he studies me betrays the gravity beneath.
“She’s amazing. She may just be my favorite royal,” I deadpan, though the words carry a hint of humor.
His mouth curves, slow and deliberate. “Biggest lie I’ve heard. We both know I’m your favorite.” He pulls me against his chest, t
