Tangled AU Fanfic

She sits in the eye of the storm.

Power flows through her veins, more power than she’s ever known, but she remains perfectly still on a throne she created herself. To anyone watching, she’s the picture of composure. But no one’s around to see her, and her mind is on fire.

She doesn’t eat, or sleep. She’s beyond any of that. All she can do is think. She’s angry, she always is, but that’s for the best because anger keeps her going. Every injustice she remembers, every loved one who betrayed her, they all keep the fire burning. It’s a strange sort of fire; not a warm red but a cool, cold blue. But she likes that. It suits her. It matches her blue hair, the blue of her tower.

Before she took the stone, she’d never have been able to build that tower. She could barely lift her sword after her injury. But the ghost girl had saved her. Trained her. Kept the fire burning when it was in danger of going out. The ghost girl was the only friend she had now; the only one she needed.

At first, the stone had scared her. It had sealed her away in dark armor, eating away at her humanity. But in return, it gave her so much. It gave her the power she needed, a destiny to work towards. It gave her a chance to fight back. A chance at revenge.

The boy had tried to talk her out of it. He’d tried to pour water over her fire, but she hadn’t let him. She’d sent him away before he could do any real damage. Now all she has to do is bide her time. His friends – her old friends – would be arriving soon to rescue him. She reminds herself what they did to her. What they would continue to do to her, if she lets them.

For now, though, her throne room is empty. Nothing but rocks and daggers.

All she needs.

That’s what she tells herself, over and over again.

Sometimes, when she’s alone, she remembers everything she left behind. Her family, her friends, all they did for her. She remembers how much she loved them and her power diminishes. Then, with the ghost girl’s help, she remembers how much they hurt her and she’s back to full strength again, those happy memories burned away.

She’s ready to take what she’s owed.

Cassandra had left in the early hours of the morning. It was almost lunch time, and she was ravenous after hours of non-stop walking (and cutting down innocent plants who had the misfortune of having been planted in her way).

After flinging herself down onto a perfectly seat-sized tree stump, Cassandra pulled her pack into her lap and dug out the sack lunch she’d packed for herself.

A simple cheese sandwich, an apple, and some licorice sticks she’d been given as a belated birthday gift this morning as she’d passed by Uncle Monty’s. She practically inhaled the sandwich and apple, and lounged back on the tree stump, gazing up at the sky, dappled as it was through the canopy above, and chewing on a piece of licorice.

Calm.

She had a small dinner packed as well, but it was far less glamorous. She’d have saved the cheese sandwich for then, but was worried the cheese would go bad in the warm weather.

But still, plain bread and another apple would serve just fine later. If she was still hungry- or fancied something more substantial- she could always forage or hunt. Or search out that seedy pub that lay somewhere within the woods if she was really desperate. Or if she really wanted to piss off her dad, which… to be honest…

The seedy pub was definitely on the table.

With all the apples in her pack, Cassandra was honestly a little surprised that the stallion her dad had recently been riding at work hadn’t followed her. Maximus was diligent and brave beyond his years (which possibly also made him quite foolish, Cassandra secretly thought on occasion), but very easily swayed when apples were involved.

As she rewrapped her licorice in the paper bag they’d been given to her in, Cassandra startled at the sound of a warning hoot from above.

Someone’s approaching.

Candy still in one hand- and one stick in her mouth- Cassandra grabbed her pack and bolted into a shrub. Thankfully it wasn’t holly or brambles, so, while it was uncomfortable, it wasn’t outright painful.

Now, Cassandra was no coward.

In ordinary circumstances she sure as hell wouldn’t dive into a bush at the possibility of crossing paths with another person.

But this was far off the beaten path.

Nobody came this way.

Nobody except for the occasional Guard patrol (who would surely send her back home), irritable teenaged girls who couldn’t get a straight answer out of their Royal-Guard-Fathers, and unsavoury folks trying to outrun the law.

Cassandra had her sword, yes, but she wasn’t looking for a fight.

Although it might be nice to let out her frustrations on some infamous robber or something, for now it was better to stay hidden.

She sits in the eye of the storm.

Power flows through her veins, more power than she’s ever known, but she remains perfectly still on a throne she created herself. To anyone watching, she’s the picture of composure. But no one’s around to see her, and her mind is on fire.

She doesn’t eat, or sleep. She’s beyond any of that. All she can do is think. She’s angry, she always is, but that’s for the best because anger keeps her going. Every injustice she remembers, every loved one who betrayed her, they all keep the fire burning. It’s a strange sort of fire; not a warm red but a cool, cold blue. But she likes that. It suits her. It matches her blue hair, the blue of her tower.

Before she took the stone, she’d never have been able to build that tower. She could barely lift her sword after her injury. But the ghost girl had saved her. Trained her. Kept the fire burning when it was in danger of going out. The ghost girl was the only friend she had now; the only one she needed.

At first, the stone had scared her. It had sealed her away in dark armor, eating away at her humanity. But in return, it gave her so much. It gave her the power she needed, a destiny to work towards. It gave her a chance to fight back. A chance at revenge.

The boy had tried to talk her out of it. He’d tried to pour water over her fire, but she hadn’t let him. She’d sent him away before he could do any real damage. Now all she has to do is bide her time. His friends – her old friends – would be arriving soon to rescue him. She reminds herself what they did to her. What they would continue to do to her, if she lets them.

For now, though, her throne room is empty. Nothing but rocks and daggers.

All she needs.

That’s what she tells herself, over and over again.

Sometimes, when she’s alone, she remembers everything she left behind. Her family, her friends, all they did for her. She remembers how much she loved them and her power diminishes. Then, with the ghost girl’s help, she remembers how much they hurt her and she’s back to full strength again, those happy memories burned away.

She’s ready to take what she’s owed.

The tension in the room was palpable, and Cassandra wished she had nothing to do with it.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t about her. Upstairs, her stepmother was giving birth, and every so often a noise would drift down from above. In the sitting room, the partygoers glanced at each other nervously. But they also glanced at her.

Cassandra tried to ignore them. Instead, she put an arm around her little brother. Brutus was only seven years old, and every time he heard his mother cry out he flinched against his sister, clinging to her as if his life depended on it.

“She’s going to be okay, Bru,” Cass told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Grandma’s up there. And Dad. They won’t let anything happen to your mom.”

Brutus didn’t seem entirely convinced, and Cass wasn’t sure how she could change that. She certainly couldn’t tell him the truth; that their father couldn’t protect Morwenna from death, and Ivy Rusthaven’s skill as a midwife wasn’t always enough to save the women in her care. She absolutely couldn’t tell him that she was worried, too. She had to be strong. He needed it. She put on her bravest face-

- and caught one of the guests glaring at her. Cass had no idea who she was – some co-worker of Morwenna’s, maybe – but she clearly knew her. When she learned she’d been caught, the woman promptly turned away and began whispering to the man next to her. Cass was too far away to hear what they were saying, but she could make a fairly good guess:

“What’s SHE doing here?”

The Rusthavens’ Christmas party, it seemed, was split right down the middle; “pro-Cass” and “anti-Cass”. The “pros” beamed at her, asked her how she was and what she’d been up to. The “antis” avoided her like the plague, pointedly ignored her and glowered at her from across the room. Some of the “pros” were people Cass had known for decades, like Pete and Stan and Stan’s wife, Enid. Unfortunately, some of the “antis” were, too. Her father’s old friend, Bertie Tranur, had struggled to hide the hostility in his eyes when Cassandra approached him. His wife hadn’t bothered to hide it at all.

Cassandra had expected it, to some extent. It was why she didn’t return to Corona very often. If her dad hadn’t told her about Morwenna’s pregnancy, she wouldn’t have been here at all. She would have tried to avoid the party if she wasn’t already staying in the house; and even then, she’d tried to get out of it.

“Oh, who cares what they think?” Morwenna had retorted when Cass talked to her. “It’s our party and we want you there. You’re family.”

“But after what I did-“

“Which was years ago – oh!” Morwenna stumbled as she tried to put a tray of cookies on the dining room table, and her stepdaughter immediately moved to catch her. Morwenna was due in January; it was Christmas Eve, and she was huge.

“You know,” Cass said, helping her straighten up. “Maybe Grandma was right-”

“Don’t you start. I’ve been planning this party for weeks!”

“What makes you think people will want to go? When they know I’m here-”

“They won’t care. And if they do, they can leave and they’ll be the ones who are missing out, not you. You have a right to be here, Cass.”

She’d tried to believe that. She’d brushed her dark hair and put on a maroon tunic (the closest thing to a dress she owned), and grinned conspiratorially at her brother when she saw his sweater was the same colour. She’d tried not to bristle at the obvious hostility that was directed at her. Then Morwenna had gone into labour and the party screeched to a halt. They’d been here for hours and if anyone wanted to leave, they weren’t showing it. The food was gone and all they could do was wait for news from above. And talk, of course.

“Can’t believe she’d show her face around here...”

“Murderer...”

“Traitor...”

Sure, some of it might have been Cass’s imagination. But some of it wasn’t. As she’d gone to pour herself a drink, she’d overheard a conversation between a couple of guards she used to know. They’d shut up as soon as they spotted her, but she’d heard enough:

“It’s insane! Rusthaven doesn’t owe her anything! She’s not his blood.”

“Can’t believe it myself. I wouldn’t let her around my kids. What if she snaps again? She tried to kill him, and he’s got another child on the way!”

“Exactly. He’s putting his real kids at risk for that-”

They’d at least had the grace to feign embarrassment, but Cass didn’t stick around. Their words followed her anyway, waking up old fears. That her family were lying; that they didn’t want her around. That they hadn’t forgiven her after all.

It was wrong. It had to be. Her dad wouldn’t lie about that; if he wanted her gone, why’d he invite her home? Why did Morwenna let her anywhere near Brutus, if she thought he was in danger? Sure, her grandmother still seemed a little wary, but she tried to hide it and she’d greeted Cassandra warmly when she returned-

You nearly killed her. No wonder she’s wary. You were going to kill all of them.

Dark, deadly thoughts, from back when she had the moonstone. She didn’t feel that way anymore. So why couldn’t she forget?

You don’t belong here. You never belonged here.

Somewhere, a baby was crying.

You don’t deserve to be part of this family.

“Cassandra? Brutus? Your father’s asking for you.”

Ivy Rusthaven stood in the doorway, flushed with exhaustion.

“Is Mom okay?” asked Brutus.

“She’s fine,” their grandmother replied. “She’s just a little tired.” Then, to the others; “party’s over. You can all go home.”

“But the baby-“

“Is fine, Stan.” A small, tired smile appeared on Ivy’s face. “It’s a girl.”

A girl. Cassandra wanted to wait, but Brutus was tugging at her arm and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. They pushed past the guests and hurried up the stairs and all the time Cass was trying to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. He’s got a real daughter now. Then Brutus was pushing the bedroom door open and she had no choice but to follow him inside.

Morwenna was sitting up in bed, her red hair hanging limply around her face. Brutus let go of Cass and ran to her, and she took him in her arms before smiling at Cass. Cass tried to smile back, but then she saw her father standing next to the bed. He looked almost as exhausted as Morwenna, and he was holding a small, swaddled bundle.

“Come here, you two,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside his wife. “I want you to meet someone.”

How could Cass leave now? She sat down next to her father and Brutus moved over to join them.

“Is that her?” asked Brutus.

“Yep. That’s your little sister.” Captain Rusthaven grinned – then he held the baby out to Cassandra. “You want to hold her?”

He has to be kidding. The newborn was tiny and fragile and he was going to give it to her? Of course Cass had held babies before. She’d held Brutus when he was that age. But this baby looked smaller than Brutus had been, and look at what she’d done since then...

“Go on, Cass,” said Morwenna. “I reckon she wants to meet you.”

So Cass took the baby. What else could she do? She held the child close, and as she looked at her she noticed that the baby didn’t seem afraid of her at all.

She doesn’t know any better.

But Brutus did. Her dad and Morwenna did. They knew Cass’s history, and they wanted her to hold the baby. Brutus was sitting right next to her, not afraid in the slightest.

“Hey,” he was saying to the baby. “I’m Brutus. This is Cass. We’re your brother and sister, and we’re gonna look after you. Right, Cass?”

This time, Cass didn’t have to try to smile. It was right there, on her face. For the first time that night, those old fears melted away and all that was left was a family. Her family.

The old barn’s roof has caved in, vines are crawling up the walls, but it refuses to collapse. Built to last, my neighbours say, although it’s not enough to make them claim it. It’s been abandoned for decades, and if you saw it now you’d think it still was.

That’s not what I’ve been told, though.

I creep slowly towards it. My footsteps are too loud, but there’s no sign of life. Whoever’s in there is keeping quiet, waiting for me to show up. When I reach the wall, I press myself flat against it, listening. Maybe there’s only one of them. Or maybe that’s what they want me to think. They want me to let my guard down, to charge in so they can jump me. I want to charge in, but I can’t risk it. Not this time.

Not while my son’s in there.

*

I knew something was wrong when Walker didn’t come back from the chicken coop.

Every day before dinner, he goes out to feed them, and I let him because he’s eight and he wants to prove himself. He knows not to take too long. So after ten minutes, I went out to look for him. Instead I found a note:

Cassandra

If you want to see your son again, meet me at Ormund’s Barn at sundown TONIGHT

COME ALONE

OR HE DIES

No ransom. That’s bad.

“Come alone”; as if I had a choice. My family’s back in Corona and my neighbours are farmers. I couldn’t trust them with something like this. I know where Ormund’s Barn is, though; couple of miles north, right up near the forest. What worries me is that they know. Either they’re local, or they scouted the area before this went down. They probably scouted my farm, too; learned our schedule. Walker’s hardly ever outside without me.

Now, my back to the wall, I picture this person – people? – lying in wait for my son, snatching him up like he’s nothing, and I want to destroy them. I want to smash their heads in – however many there are – and leave their bodies to rot in that old barn. How dare they. Walker’s the most innocent person I know. He doesn’t deserve this. He should be safe.

I should’ve kept him safe.

Finally, I reach the entrance. No doors; they’ve crumbled away. I take my dagger from my belt as I enter, but I keep my hood up. They’ll know it’s me, and they don’t get to see how I feel.

“You made it.”

It’s a man’s voice, but its owner is hidden in shadows. I don’t recognize him, but I do recognize the next voice:

“MAMA!”

“Shut it!” snarls the man, and my grip tightens. I can’t see Walker, but I know terror when I hear it.

“If you’ve hurt him-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll get out of here. You, on the other hand...”

Light flashes, and the man appears before me, a lantern in one hand and a sword in the other. He’s big, but he doesn’t look that old. Probably not even twenty. He’s black-haired and clean-shaven, his clothes way too big for him. A frown distorts his face.

“... You, Cassandra, are going to die.”

“Who are you?” Seriously, who is this guy? I’ve made a lot of enemies, but I know what they look like. This is a new one.

“Call me a citizen of Corona,” he replies, setting his lantern on top of an old milking stool.

“Long way from home.”

“It’s not my home anymore. You destroyed it. You killed my parents.”

“When?”

But I think I already know. Back when I had the moonstone, I destroyed a lot of homes. I killed a lot of people. Some of them, I didn’t even know about at the time. But if I had known, I doubt I’d have cared. The thought of that is almost enough to make me lower my dagger. Almost. Because behind this Corona Citizen, I see my son. He’s tied up, his brown hair a mess and his eyes glinting with tears.

“Took me years to find you,” the Citizen goes on, “and then I learn you got a farm! That you get paid to look after some old horses! You ruined my life and you get to have a farm?”

His sword’s raised. It’s pointed right at my throat. I’ve gotta play this carefully, but the thought of grovelling to this guy makes me sick.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask. “Apologize? Is that gonna solve anything?”

“You took everything from me!”

“You took my son.” I glare at him, raising my dagger to meet his sword. I doubt it’ll save me, but it’s better than nothing. “What did he do to you?”

“It’s not about him-“

“It’s about me. I know.” I want to look at Walker, make sure he’s not hurt, but if I take my eyes of his kidnapper, I’ll be dead. Besides, I’ve noticed something about him; the way he holds his sword. He’s clearly not done it very often. His arm trembles under its weight; not much, but enough to give me an idea.

“You want to kill me? Kill me.”

“No!” Walker cries. I try to ignore him.

“Kill me, and let my son go. That’s the plan, right? So shut up and do it.”

He takes the bait, and he charges at me. But he’s big, and he’s awkward, and I just manage to get out of the way. My hood falls down, but that’s it. As the Citizen stumbles, I spin around and slit his throat as he looks up at me. It’s a gamble, but it pays off. He gasps as he grabs his ruined throat, trying to keep from bleeding out, and I wait for some kind of speech. Some last retort. But all he does is gasp and die.

I leave him and untie my son, and as soon as he’s free he throws his arms around me. It’s a shock – not because Walker wouldn’t hug me, he’s an affectionate kid, but because he just watched his mother kill a man. The same mother who let this happen to him in the first place. But instead he’s babbling about how sorry he is, that he didn’t see the man until he was grabbed.

“You’re okay, Walker,” I told him. “You’re safe now.” I tilt his head up. He’s got a bruise on the side of his head. It’s all the damage I can see at the moment, but it’s still too much.

“Can we go home?” he sniffs.

“Of course.”

As we leave, I get between him and the body. I give the Citizen one last look. Maybe I should’ve shown him mercy. I did destroy his home, after all.

But he nearly destroyed mine. He hurt my son.

Cassandra had left in the early hours of the morning. It was almost lunch time, and she was ravenous after hours of non-stop walking (and cutting down innocent plants who had the misfortune of having been planted in her way).

After flinging herself down onto a perfectly seat-sized tree stump, Cassandra pulled her pack into her lap and dug out the sack lunch she’d packed for herself.

A simple cheese sandwich, an apple, and some licorice sticks she’d been given as a belated birthday gift this morning as she’d passed by Uncle Monty’s. She practically inhaled the sandwich and apple, and lounged back on the tree stump, gazing up at the sky, dappled as it was through the canopy above, and chewing on a piece of licorice.

Calm.

She had a small dinner packed as well, but it was far less glamorous. She’d have saved the cheese sandwich for then, but was worried the cheese would go bad in the warm weather.

But still, plain bread and another apple would serve just fine later. If she was still hungry- or fancied something more substantial- she could always forage or hunt. Or search out that seedy pub that lay somewhere within the woods if she was really desperate. Or if she really wanted to piss off her dad, which… to be honest…

The seedy pub was definitely on the table.

With all the apples in her pack, Cassandra was honestly a little surprised that the stallion her dad had recently been riding at work hadn’t followed her. Maximus was diligent and brave beyond his years (which possibly also made him quite foolish, Cassandra secretly thought on occasion), but very easily swayed when apples were involved.

As she rewrapped her licorice in the paper bag they’d been given to her in, Cassandra startled at the sound of a warning hoot from above.

Someone’s approaching.

Candy still in one hand- and one stick in her mouth- Cassandra grabbed her pack and bolted into a shrub. Thankfully it wasn’t holly or brambles, so, while it was uncomfortable, it wasn’t outright painful.

Now, Cassandra was no coward.

In ordinary circumstances she sure as hell wouldn’t dive into a bush at the possibility of crossing paths with another person.

But this was far off the beaten path.

Nobody came this way.

Nobody except for the occasional Guard patrol (who would surely send her back home), irritable teenaged girls who couldn’t get a straight answer out of their Royal-Guard-Fathers, and unsavoury folks trying to outrun the law.

Cassandra had her sword, yes, but she wasn’t looking for a fight.

Although it might be nice to let out her frustrations on some infamous robber or something, for now it was better to stay hidden.

When Cassandra found Ginny, she was sitting on the porch, watching Walker play “fetch” with Luce. She looked up as Cassandra approached.

“Cute dog,” she remarked. Maybe she meant it, but the smirk made it hard to tell.

“Luce? Yeah, she’s great.”

“You have any other dogs around here?”

Cassandra knew snark when she heard it. She decided to brush it off. Maybe snark was just part of growing up on the Isle of the Lost. Carefully lowering the glasses of lemonade, she sat down next to her sister.

Sister. That still didn’t feel right. Cass had only ever had one sister in her life. But this one shared her blood. They even looked similar; pale, dark-haired, with the same grey-green eyes. Ginny’s taste in fashion was different, though; more feminine than Cass tended to be. And Cass liked to think she had better manners at that age. Well, slightly better, anyway.

“Can’t believe I got a same-age nephew,” Ginny said as she took one of the glasses.

You could’ve said thank you, Cass thought. Ginny hadn’t thanked her for any of it; not for letting her stay with them, not for giving up her room, none of it. She’d expected it – children raised on the Isle weren’t known for being polite – but it still stung. But Cass had dealt with worse.

“Can’t believe I got a teenage sister,” she retorted.

“Two, right?” Ginny took a sip of lemonade. “When am I going to meet your family, anyway?”

“You’ve met Walker-”

“That’s one; and the dog. I saw the pictures you’ve got in there.” Ginny nodded in the direction of the open door. “Walker told me about them.”

Of course he had. Walker had insisted on giving Ginny a tour of the farm. He’d been his usual open, accommodating self; and, to her credit, Ginny had obviously listened to him.

“That’s your adoptive family, right? And your girlfriend?”

“That’s right.” Cassandra picked up her own glass of lemonade. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet them.”

“I’m not worried. I’m curious.” Ginny drained her glass and plonked it back down on the porch. “Must be nice, having a family that big; even if some of them have very questionable fashion sense.”

And there it was. The elephant in the room. Cass may have a big family, but Ginny had something else. Ginny had Gothel.

Ginny had their mother.

 Every time Cass thought she was over the woman, Gothel came back to haunt her. Sometimes Cass could see it coming and brace herself for it. More often, it would take her by surprise. She’d be hanging out with Walker or on a date with Gina and something would trigger a memory, bringing her mother back in force. Cass would often wonder if Gothel ever thought about her; especially when she found out that her mother was still alive.

The news had been a punch to the gut. She knew about the Isle, of course – her father had a lot to say about it, and none of it good – but no one had ever said Gothel was there. Maybe she ought to have guessed. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to.

The fact that Gothel had another daughter was an even bigger shock, and one she couldn’t ignore. She’d reached out, using all the connections she had to get word to the Isle. She’d expected a letter at most. She hadn’t expected to hear from the Fairy Godmother herself. Ginny wants to go to school in Auradon, she’d said. She needs a place to stay, and you’re the closest thing to family she has. So here Ginny was, drinking Cass’s lemonade on Cass’s porch.

“What are you staring at?” Ginny asked her now.

“Nothing.” Cass didn’t realize she had been staring. She’d been lost in thought.

Could this have been me?

If Gothel hadn’t abandoned her all those years ago, would she have ended up like this girl? Snarky and ungrateful? How much of it was a by-product of being raised on the Isle of the Lost? Had Gothel treated Ginny as a servant, too?

“You were totally staring.”

 “I was staring at your hair.”

“Nice, right?” Ginny tossed it over her shoulder. “I bet yours could look this good, too, if you grew it out.”

“Is that your idea of a compliment?”

“Just being honest.”

“Did your mother teach you that?”

“My mothe-” suddenly Ginny’s face lost its usual cockiness. “No.”

And then Cassandra knew. Ginny had got the same treatment Cassandra had; that Rapunzel had, for that matter. The difference was that Cass got out early. Ginny had spent nearly two decades with Gothel, and it had left a bigger mark than Cassandra’s four years with her ever could. Maybe Cass could do for Ginny what she’d done for Walker; what her father had done for her. She could give her a home; a proper home, with people who cared about her.

She also knew Ginny was lying.

“Here’s some advice, sis,” she told her now. “You want to get by in Auradon? Don’t be that honest.”

“I thought you guys liked that. Honestly, loyalty... all that goody-goody stuff.”

“There’s honest, and there’s rude. What you just said about my hair? That’s rude.”

“I said it looked good-”

“- if I grew it out.” Cass stirred her lemonade before taking a sip. “And now,” she continued, “I don’t think I will grow it out. Just to spite you.”

Ginny scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“More advice; don’t call your sister stupid. Especially while you’re living under her roof.”

“Where’d you get that attitude from?”

“Same place you got yours.”

Ginny was silent for a second. Then she laughed, and Cass couldn’t help laughing with her. They were still laughing when Walker went over to them, Luce trotting obediently along beside him. Walker towered over his mother even when they were both standing up; throw in Luce’s wolf-like appearance and they were almost intimidating. Or they would be, if Cass didn’t know them so well.

“Hey, Mom, Ginny,” he said, beaming. Then, looking at the empty glasses; “is that lemonade?”

“It was,” Cass replied.

“Got anymore?”

“In the kitchen, if you want to go get it.”

“Thanks. I’m parched.” He held open the door, let Luce go in first, then turned back to look at them. “You guys want some more?”

Cass nodded. For a second, Ginny looked confused. Then, she said; “if you’re offering.”