“You actually remembered?”
Michelle beamed. “I have a ridiculously good memory when it comes to food.”
Just then, the kitchen doors opened, and a servant carried in a covered tray, placing it in the center of the table. When the lid was lifted, warm spice-scented steam billowed up, and the muffins inside looked straight out of a bakery window—golden brown, beautifully domed, flecked with orange and cinnamon.
Thoren raised a brow beside me. “You really went all out.”
She flipped her hair, smug. “I always go all out for my friends.”
I reached for one even though I was pretty full. Michelle did go through all the trouble to make them and the muffin practically glowed with temptation.
Michelle grabbed one too, already halfway unwrapping it as I lifted mine from the tray.
Then she froze.
