Ishita bustled into the kitchen at her usual early hour, apron already in hand, and stopped dead in the doorway.
There, standing at the stove with a dark apron tied around his waist, was the Lycan King himself. Derek was whistling a cheerful, slightly off-key tune while flipping pancakes. His sleeves were rolled up, and a smudge of flour dusted one cheek.
"Your Grace!" Ishita gasped. "Oh, no, no. What are you doing?"
Derek glanced over his shoulder and grinned—an actual, bright grin that made him look years younger.
"Cooking breakfast for everyone. Sit down, Ishita. Today, I'm the chef."
"Please, let me. This is my job. You shouldn't be—" Ishita hurried forward, reaching for the spatula.
Derek shook his head and lifted the spoon out of her reach, whistling on. "Not today, Ishita."
"But—"
"Sit."
