"You terrify me before breakfast."
She considered this, then allowed the ghost of a smile. "But you love me."
Josephine rolled onto her back, hair everywhere, ribbons long since surrendered. "Speak for yourself," she yawned. "I adore you. I plan to monetize you. Different verbs, same church." She reached, pinched the letter between two fingers, and pulled it close enough to squint. "Ugh, he writes like a man flirting with his own signature."
Lyan could not help noticing the doodle in the corner: a stick figure with a lopsided crown and what might have been six tiny hearts orbiting it like bees. He huffed a laugh. "He's improving. Last time the crown looked like a hedgehog."
Josephine threw an arm over her eyes. "Time to smuggle treasure, kiss the lord, and maybe tease a few merchants." The arm fell away again. "But coffee first. Otherwise I'll flirt with the wall and sell us for twelve buttons and a compliment."
