My mother died protecting the egg? I thought she died from the curse before I landed here?
I folded the letter. Very carefully. Very gently. And tucked it into my bandolier, next to the vials and the rope and the other pieces of my broken, scattered life.
Behind me, Ford was crying. Quietly. Trying to hide it. Failing.
Malphas stood in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on me, his expression unreadable.
Chubby floated beside him, the paper crown still on his head, the toast still in his hand.
"Boss?" he said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Your dad's not dead."
I turned to look at him. "How do you know?"
"Because I ate all his cookies and he didn't even yell at me. If he was dead, he would have yelled. That's how it works."
I stared at him.
Then, despite everything, the fire, the dragons, the conspiracy, the missing father, the goddess who wouldn't answer, I laughed.
It was a broken sound. Ragged. Hysterical, maybe. But it was real.
"Chubby," I said, "you're an idiot."
