Chapter 9 Fae, Fries, and Freak-Outs

Lysandra hadn't expected the Crimson Thorn mafia to have a 24-hour diner inside their estate, but here they were-sitting in what looked like a five-star IHOP designed by someone who thought velvet booths and chandeliers screamed "subtle."

She stared down at her plate. "You guys... eat pancakes during emergencies?"

Silvano poured syrup like a man who had no regrets. "Emergencies are temporary. Pancakes are eternal."

Across the table, Marco-his right-hand man, former assassin, and apparently amateur stand-up comedian-was devouring bacon like it was oxygen. "Girl, you almost passed out in an elevator. You earned those carbs."

Lysandra blinked. "You were watching me?"

"Security footage. I check in sometimes. Mostly to see if the boss here's learned how to smile."

Silvano gave him a death glare. Marco raised his fork in salute and kept eating.

Lysandra bit into her waffle and groaned. "Okay, that's actually amazing."

Silvano nodded like he'd just won a bet. "Told you. Magic blood doesn't mean we can't appreciate breakfast food."

"Wait," she said mid-chew. "Do fae even digest syrup?"

Silvano shrugged. "We digest everything. Including bad decisions."

Marco grinned. "Especially those."

Lysandra laughed, surprising herself. It felt good. Weird, but good.

"So what now?" she asked, setting her fork down. "You've got fae energy flaring up across the city, my brain's coughing up fire-flashbacks, and I still don't know if I'm a long-lost fae princess or just very allergic to mirrors."

Silvano leaned back, casual. "Today's agenda: one, finish breakfast. Two, meet the estate's magic expert. Three, don't die."

"Four," Marco added, "convince you to stay here and not run screaming into the forest like a deranged elf."

"Thanks," she said. "Very reassuring."

"Hey, I'm the emotional support hitman," Marco said proudly.

Lysandra turned to Silvano. "So. Magic expert. Please tell me it's not an ancient guy in a robe who only speaks in riddles."

"Not quite," he replied.

Cut to five minutes later: they were standing in front of a neon-pink door that had "KEEP OUT (unless you have snacks)" written in glittery letters.

Lysandra blinked. "Is this... serious?"

"You'll see," Silvano said, knocking.

The door swung open to reveal a girl in oversized glasses, fuzzy slippers, and a robe covered in anime pins. She was holding a bubble tea and a cat that may or may not have had glowing eyes.

"Yo," she said. "You must be the memory girl."

Lysandra blinked. "Uh... yeah?"

"I'm Dani. Sorceress. Chaos consultant. Silvano's cousin. I charge extra for sarcasm."

Lysandra looked at Silvano. "I love her."

"She's very annoying," he muttered.

"I love her," Lysandra said again.

Dani grinned. "Cool. Come on in. We're about to find out what kind of magical ticking time bomb you are."

As Lysandra stepped inside, surrounded by glowing books, floating candles, and a cat that whispered in French, one thing was suddenly very clear:

She had absolutely no idea what was going on.

But for once, she wasn't totally freaked out about it.