After breakfast, rest became a theoretical concept. A nice idea. A fantasy. One I did not have the luxury to entertain. "Henry. Joff." I pointed at them with my fork like a general issuing a battlefield command. "You're coming with me."
Henry blinked. "To…?"
"The Agro Hotel."
Joff straightened immediately. "Is it finally opening?"
"It's almost opening," I corrected. "Which is the most dangerous phase of any project."
My father sighed into his tea. "You've only just returned."
"I slept," I said defensively. "Briefly. On a dragon. That counts."
It did not, apparently, count.
The carriage rolled out of the mansion grounds under a clear sky, the air warm but crisp, sunlight glinting off freshly paved mana-roads. Agro looked different now. Bigger. Louder. Alive in a way that bordered on overwhelming.
