Page 99 of Maksym

“Good?” I asked.

“Annoyingly, yes.”

“Kyra is exceptional.”

Kyra’s smile widened slightly. “High praise from a man who once rejected an entire shipment because the lavender note was presumptuous.”

Grace looked at me.

I kept my expression neutral. “It was.”

Kyra wisely withdrew.

Grace took another sip. “I have questions about your adjectives.”

“You have questions about everything.”

“And yet somehow never enough answers.”

I looked over the rail toward the main floor.

There she was.

Maddie moved between tables with a tray balanced on one hand and laughter already forming before she reached the patrons waiting for her. Chestnut hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders, catching purple light in warm ribbons. She wore black and lace and leather in a way that made softness look armed. Small, curvy, alive with quick energy. A group at one table had clearly said something outrageous; Maddie planted one hand on her hip and answered them with a grin sharp enough to cut fruit.

The table roared with laughter.

She did not merely serve them. She held the space around herself and made strangers feel chosen for the length of a conversation.

“That is Maddie,” I said.

Grace followed my gaze.

I watched confusion gather visibly on her face.

“The Maddie?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Nikolay’s mate.”

“Yes.”

“The woman connected to a Council incident involving a dead Alpha.”

“Yes.”

“And she’s waiting tables.”

“She is working as a server.”

Grace looked at me as if I had begun speaking in one of the ancient languages Devon muttered when annoyed by kitchen appliances.

“She’s... a princess?”

“Not officially.”

“But effectively.”