Soon, the ten minutes evaporated, and Damon finally located the little black furball. He had expected the cat to be hiding in some shadowy corner, hiding from his women. But no.
Shadow was sprawled luxuriously on a velvet bed in one of Damon's chambers, looking like a tiny tyrant who had just conquered her own kingdom.
And beside him…
Riven knelt on one knee, fanning the cat with a feather fan while simultaneously adjusting a silk pillow to support Shadow's head.
Several dishes of finely sliced meat, warm bowls of enchanted milk, and even a plate of shimmering mana-infused sardines were nearby, arranged with more care than a royal banquet.
Damon stared.
Shadow lifted her head half a millimeter, glanced at him with the bored disdain of a god observing a mortal, and then yawned, long, slow, deliberately disrespectful, before closing her eyes again.
Damon rubbed his temples. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Shadow did not respond.
