"But?"
"But good isn't what I've become used to." She laughed, but it sounded bitter even to her own ears. "Listen to me. Complaining that my cooking is merely good instead of supernaturally excellent. Like I'm entitled to magic."
"You partnered with those tools for months," Mokko said quietly. "Got used to cooking with them. It's not entitled to miss that."
Marron turned to look at him. "What if this is all I actually am? What if everything people loved—everything that made me special—was just the tools working through me?"
"That's not—"
"Mokko. The Food Cart doubled the quality of whatever I made. Doubled it. That means half of every meal I served was just me, and half was magic." She gestured to the pot, the ladle, the knife. "These things made me extraordinary. Without them?"
She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
Mokko was quiet for a long moment, then: "You know what I noticed today?"
"What?"
