EMBER’S POV

I bring it down against the edge of the counter hard enough to shatter it, clay and brew and a dark wet smear spraying across the wood.

And into the ringing silence that follows, I start to laugh, because it is funny, it’s the most elaborate murder I’ve ever nearly walked myself into, and I can’t help it.

For a long moment, nobody says a word.

“Well.” I set the surviving cup down, gentle, and look between the two of them. “That was very good. Truly. I almost drank it.”

“How,” the old man breathes. He’s leaning both hands on the counter now, his eyes bright as a...