I turned and marched straight toward her nightstand, taking stock of everything there—her pills, her water, her food that she had barely touched.
Unacceptable.
I grabbed her drink, put a straw in it, and gently held it out to her.
She squinted at me. “…What the hell is this?”
“A royal beverage for Her Majesty.” I wiggled the cup a little. “Drink, or I’m carrying you to the kitchen and hand-feeding you myself.”
Her eyes widened, horrified. “You wouldn’t.”
I raised a brow. Try me.
With a defeated huff, she took the cup and dramatically sipped from it like I was forcing her to swallow poison.
I grinned. One point for Kody.
“Now,” I said, rolling my sleeves up like I was preparing for battle, “food. Which one of these traitorous snacks didn’t meet your royal standards?”
She actually
