The sound of someone clearing their throat startles me awake. I open one eye, squinting at the figure standing at the foot of my bed, holding a tray with an exaggerated flourish. It's Jasper and he has an apron tied crookedly around his waist.
"Your highness," he says with a mock bow.
"What is that?" I ask, pointing at the tray like it's radioactive.
"Breakfast in bed," he replies, grinning like a kid who just discovered fire.
"Define 'breakfast.' "
"Pancake, coffee, a banana. You're welcome." He sets the tray down on the bed, and I eye it suspiciously. On the tray, the pancakes are stacked high, the fresh banana sliced into small pieces and arranged in a perfect circle, and a mug of coffee sitting at the side.
"This looks suspiciously like an apology," I say, grabbing a fork and ign
