Every king needed a room where shit could shatter without consequence and Garrett didn't so much as blink at the glass in Fin's hand.
That was what studies were for.
He stood, pulled a fresh glass from the cabinet, poured three fingers, and handed it to Fin along with a small towel from the side table. The towel was there because Garrett kept towels in his study the way other kings kept decorative swords. Function over aesthetics. Darkhowler to the bone.
"Breaking it would kill her. There's an ancestor fire situation, long story, different whiskey. But even without that, I'd never break a fated matebond. I'm not that man."
As far as Finnick Shadowclaw was concerned, the ancestors could go fuck themselves for even making that a mechanical possibility.
Garrett collapsed back into the chair. "I'll take that as another story for another whiskey."
At the rate Fin was generating stories that required whiskey, he was going to need a second cabinet.
