Chapter Ten

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Celia frowned at the meager offerings in her fridge. "I need to go shopping. I've got eggs. Bacon. And not much else."

"I thought you didn't eat bacon."

"I splurge on occasion." She peered around the door at Selig. "I can make pancakes."

He smiled. "I like pancakes."

"I know. I remember you used to con your dad into making them all the time."

He grinned. "He was so proud of himself because he didn't need to use magic to make them." Selig moved to the pantry and took out the Tupperware container of flour. "Aislinn's favorite was waffles and those were always magically produced."

"Do you miss it? Your magic?"

"Honestly? Yes. It makes things easier here." He set the canister on the counter. "I could just poof groceries into your fridge. Now, you have to actually go and shop for them."

"Well, damn, what good are you then?" She smiled at him over her shoulder as she crossed to the wood baker's rack, where her meager collection of cookbooks stood. The Better Home and Gardens one was ancient, its red and white cover faded to a more sickly pink and white. The pages were stained, she'd written notes on a great deal of them, changes she made that she liked, crossing out ingredients she didn't think worked. "Tell me I have milk."

He tugged open the refrigerator door again. "You're safe." He pulled out a gallon that was almost half full.

"Perfect." She went to work, cracking eggs, blending flour and oil, and then when the batter was ready, she ladled it onto the cast iron griddle pan she'd set on the stovetop. While she did that, Selig set the table and more than once, he looked like he was going to say something. But each time, he caught himself.

Finally, they sat at the table and she poured maple syrup over her small stack. "What's on your mind, Sel? You're really quiet."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I miss Asgard. I never thought I'd say that, but I do. There were times when I envied my uncle because he could come and go as he pleased and I couldn't. Now, I think I'd give just about anything to be allowed to go home."

"Did your mom say if your dad was still mad at you?"

He stabbed his pancakes with his fork and nodded. "He's still mad at me."

"What-" She stopped herself. "Never mind."

"Ce, I'd just rather not-it's complicated."

"I'm sure it is. You're a prince. A prince's life is never as easy as it seems."

He sighed softly, letting his fork hit the plate as he shoved his chair back and got up to stalk out of the room. Celia sighed as she watched him and a moment later, the front door slammed.

Wiping her mouth, she rose and followed, finding him sitting on the front stoop, his eyes swirling with anger as he stared out over the parking lot. She sank beside him, slipping her arm beneath his. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't push. If anyone understands complicated family dynamics, it's me."

His hand came up to cover hers. "It's not that, Ce. I deserve this. Being banished, I mean. I don't deserve your kindness. Not after what I did to you."

"Well, you didn't exactly do anything to me. At least, nothing I didn't want you to do."

It was a risk, and she breathed a sigh of relief when a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "I meant the next morning, Celia. I was an idiot to just leave."

"We were young and impulsive and we did stupid things. You aren't the only one to blame in that scenario. I should've been honest with you up front."

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