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As it turned out, Lilliana's staff wasn't in the room with them or anywhere in the immediate vicinity. Needless to say Pitch was furious about it and wanted to go straightaway to demand it be given back, but the flora spirit somehow managed to dissuade him.
"It's likely just a precaution," she assured him, holding his hand and running her thumb across the rapidly beating pulse in his wrist.
"It's absurd is what it is! They have no right to withhold it from you!"
"No, they don't, but rushing over there and screaming at them about it isn't going to solve anything. They can't destroy it without harming me and the baby, so they probably kept it just to make sure I didn't try and attack them."
"Unbelievable!" Pitch seethed, but Lilliana reached up with her other hand to touch his face, effectively drawing his attention back to her. Golden eyes—burning with rage and indignation—stared intently at her.
"We have bigger issues to worry about right now, Pitch," she reminded him. "Getting worked up over things like this will only take our attention away from what's important. Don't worry about my staff. They'll give it back when Moon-man's decided he's had enough of us."
"He's trapped us here like animals!"
"We'd be trapped here anyway, Pitch, even with my staff. You're too weak right now to leave of your own accord and I don't have the power to take you with me. I can't teleport like you can."
With a gentle tug on his hand she pulled him closer, and out of habit he pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes closed, and in the presence of her calm and warmth his anger gradually dissipated.
"It is all right for you to be upset on my behalf," she told him quietly, "but don't lose your temper. Please. We really can't afford to lose ourselves in Moon-man's petty mind games."
That was the only reason she wasn't more upset about having her staff stolen—because she knew it was just another way the moon spirit was toying with them, and she refused to be goaded by such a thing. She was irritated, of course, and more than a little angry, but just as she'd explained to Pitch she knew getting worked up about it was exactly what Moon-man wanted.
Unfortunately, her love was a bit more hot-headed than she was, so it had taken some convincing to get him to recognize what she already understood. A slight tremble passed through his body as he took a calming breath, the rush of air as he let it out again rustling her red curls. Lilliana released his hand so she could put her arms around him, holding him close. A moment of quiet passed between them, and she closed her eyes so as to enjoy it. After all that had happened to them in the course of just a few days, it was nice to have some time together like this, even if it was fleeting.
"We'll go talk to him," she started to say, but Pitch interrupted her.
"I'll go. I don't want him anywhere near you right now."
"But Pitch…"
"I'll be fine." He pulled back slightly so he could kiss her, the gesture brief but tender. "I started all this," he murmured. "So I think it's only fair if I'm the one who puts an end to it."
Lilliana really didn't like the idea of him going to speak to Moon-man alone, especially when he'd only just gotten hold of his temper, but after a bit of thought she realized he was right. Everything that had happened up until now had been set into motion many, many centuries ago with that massive rift between Pitch and Moon-man. Her involvement and the Guardians' creation and virtually everything that had happened between them all since that time stemmed from that one critical moment, and nothing was ever going to be resolved until the Nightmare King and the moon spirit first sorted through their longstanding differences. If they couldn't come to some sort of terms on their own, then anything Lilliana said or did was just going to be wasted effort, like patching up cracks at the crest of a dam when the very foundation was crumbling and rotten.
They both had a hand in starting this, now they both have to work together to try and end it…even if they still despise each other.
She knew it wasn't likely to go well, their meeting, but she gave in with a small nod. Pitch looked a little relieved, as if he'd been worried that she would insist on going along. Lilliana knew fully well that he'd let her accompany him if she pushed the matter, but she would never do that to him. Despite his temper and (at times) rather reckless behavior, Pitch was more than capable of making his own choices. She didn't have to like them, as she didn't like this one, but when they were driven by logic instead of unchecked emotion she had no place to push or argue. She was his love, his eternal spouse, not his mother or his handler and certainly not his ruler. In spite of the nagging belief that this meeting wasn't going to go well, Lilliana respected Pitch enough to let him have his way in this matter.
"Just don't make me regret it," she warned. "The last time you convinced me to let you deal with a problem on your own, you practically started a war."
Pitch flinched at the reminder of what had happened in Burgess. "I'll do my very best to keep my wits about me," he promised solemnly. Then he smiled unexpectedly. "Even if you're not in the same room, I know better than to pick a fight when you're close enough to chase me down and punish me."
She rolled her eyes, causing him to laugh and pull her into a warm embrace that didn't last nearly long enough.
"I'll do my best," he repeated in a whisper before letting her go. Lilliana noticed that his attention had drifted a little and he was now staring at her stomach, a slight frown playing at his mouth as he drifted into his thoughts.
"Just remember you can always walk away from him," she told him. "You don't have to agree to anything you don't want to…though I'm sure he'll try to make you."
"I'm sure," he agreed absently.
She watched him for a moment, then reached out and took his hand again, guiding it to her belly and pressing his palm there. "What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.
"It's just so strange…" The words trailed off, as if he wasn't sure how to even begin expressing himself.
Studying his expression, Lilliana realized he was just a little overwhelmed still by the unexpected addition. She gestured at herself with her free hand. "Just be grateful you're on the outside of this particular equation."
It took him a moment to understand the jest, but when he finally did he laughed warmly.
"You're right," he teased. "I'd hate to be you right now. I don't envy you one bit."
He gave her stomach a slight caress as he withdrew his hand. "I'd better go now. I don't want to be stuck in this insufferable realm a moment longer than absolutely necessary."
"Can you point me to the kitchen? After that horrendous excuse of a meal, I'm ready for some decent food."
And cooking will help keep my mind off of you being alone in a room with Moon-man.
Pitch nodded and held the door open for her as they stepped out into the corridor. He gave simple but clear instructions on how to reach the kitchen then disappeared in the opposite direction. Left alone in the cold silver-and-gray corridors, Lilliana wondered at how eerily silent the place was now that she was alone. While it was quiet most of the time back home (apart from the ever-blabbering Nightmares), there it was a warm, embracing sort of quiet, the kind you could sit back and enjoy with a good book, whereas Moon-man's realm was uncomfortably quiet, similar to how the Golden Palace became whenever the Sun Woman was in a foul mood. Lilliana didn't like that feeling, that ever-present tension as if the very walls were glaring down at her, and not having the familiar comfort of her staff only made it worse.
But even so, the flora spirit lifted her chin and strode stubbornly through the corridors, refusing to allow uneasiness to rule her or to even show itself on her face. She was a powerful spirit, not some pathetic child. Silence wouldn't deter her from anything.
She found the kitchen with little fuss; it seemed Moon-man had kept everything in the same place since Pitch had last visited. The room was surprisingly small compared to the one she had back home, but it would do, and after some rifling through the cupboards Lilliana decided to just make another stew.
A better one, she thought firmly, piling ingredients up on the small wooden table in the middle of the room before heating up the stove. She worked swiftly and efficiently, and soon enough the base of her intended stew was boiling and thickening in a large pot. She added things to it from time to time, stirring them together with a wooden spoon and letting the delicious smell fill her nose.
So far, so good, she thought, meaning not only the progress of her intended meal but also the fact that she couldn't hear any shouting or magic blasts. Either Pitch hadn't found Moon-man yet, or he was holding true to his word that he would do his best not to be provoked during their discussion. She truly hoped it was the latter.
Suddenly, Lilliana was very aware of the presence of an approaching spirit. Even though Moon-man's power emanated from this place just as the Sun Woman's did at the Golden Palace, his realm wasn't nearly as suffocating, so it was easy for her to not only pick up on that essence but to identify precisely who it was coming towards her.
Frost.
She curled her lip, but decided it was better than having that big-mouthed North or incessantly rambling Tooth Fairy butting in on her. She'd even prefer the annoying, arrogant Pooka over either of those two, though she couldn't decide if that rabbit was better or worse than the frost spirit.
Worse, she concluded as Frost's presence continued to draw nearer and nearer. With her back to the door, Lilliana focused on the stove and silently hoped that the young spirit would just pass by the kitchen without bothering her.
No such luck.
"Hey," his boyish voice sounded from the doorway. He sounded rather surprised, as if he hadn't sensed her presence and therefore hadn't expected to see her down here.
He's so oblivious it's almost sad.
"How're you feeling?" Frost asked, coming a few steps further into the room.
"Fine," she replied noncommittally without turning around.
"How's Pitch?"
"Fine."
"Don't get all shy now. I know you've got a bigger mouth on you than that."
Lilliana turned her eyes to the ceiling as if silently asking for patience. "I'm busy," she reported, ensuring a bit of irritation crept into the words in the hopes he'd take a hint.
He didn't.
"I can see that. Smells good." The vaguest smell of ice and cold wind hit her nose as Frost leaned over her shoulder to get a look at what she was making. "Isn't that what we just had for dinner?" he questioned, frowning a little in his confusion.
"I'm remaking it. It tasted foul."
"Did not!"
"Mmhmm," she said wordlessly, rapidly growing weary of the conversation.
"Well I thought it was good…"
From the way he was talking, one would think Frost had been the one who'd made the meal, but Lilliana knew that stupid little boy couldn't cook. Whenever he was hungry he just stole something and blamed it on 'mischief'.
Ridiculous, she thought, spearing the boy with a glare as he floated up to sit on the counter. Freezing in place with the filthy backside of his pants mere centimeters from the countertop, the frost spirit lifted off again and instead settled his lightweight body on the top of his staff, staring down at her from his new perch.
"Why do you do that?" she asked, eyeing him with obvious disgust.
"Why not? I get a good view from up here."
"You look like an animal."
"You're just jealous 'cause you can't do this with your staff," Frost countered with a smug grin.
Lilliana rolled her eyes at the childish argument, already rethinking her decision that becoming a Guardian may not be such a terrible idea.
Pitch is right. The sooner we get out of here the better.
As if on cue, the sound of angry shouting reached their ears. Both Frost and Lilliana turned their attention to the stone ceiling, but within a moment the inarticulate echoes had dissipated. The flora spirit heaved a long sigh.
I told him to keep hold of his temper, she thought, shaking her head slightly as she turned back to the stove.
"Does he know how to do anything calmly?" Frost asked dryly.
"Do you know how to do anything without turning it into a game?"
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Good point."
He watched in silence for several minutes, during which the flora spirit didn't pay him a single bit of attention. Her concentration was split between the task at hand and wondering what was going on between her Pitch and Moon-man that was stirring up such a fuss.
Please don't let it get too far out of control, she silently begged her love. I know a lot's happened lately and you've got a lot on your mind right now, but we really can't afford any more mistakes. This may be our one chance to put everything behind us so we can focus on the future instead of having to constantly put out fires from the past.
Frost spoke again, breaking into her thoughts rather abruptly.
"What made you like him?"
The question surprised her, so much so that she actually turned to look at him. "What?"
"A spirit like you seems to prefer calm and order, which is the complete opposite of Pitch. So what made you like him so much?"
Lilliana stared for a moment before turning away again. She hated it when spirits stuck their noses into her affairs (especially when the answers they sought dealt with matters as personal as this), but as Frost and the others had helped her and Pitch considerably by repelling her mother's servants, the flora spirit couldn't deny that she owed the idiots something. If information was what they wanted in exchange, then so be it, as long as they didn't try to sneak in any inquiries whose answers would affect Pitch.
Consider this compensation, she thought before responding to the frost spirit's question.
"He took me as I am," she told him, stirring the stew idly so she had an excuse not to look at him. "He saw me as an individual, not as some extension of my mother. All the other spirits I'd met only cared to see me as the Sun Woman's daughter, and treated me as such. They either grudgingly tolerated my company for fear of upsetting me and, by extension, insulting my mother, or they fawned over me and showered me with compliments only to whisper behind my back about how arrogant and selfish and ungrateful I was. Back when I was younger and far more naïve I would call spirits out for doing such a thing, but they would either inform me that it was only to be expected considering my character or they'd accuse me of making up stories just to avoid being grateful to them after all they'd 'so generously done for me.'" She shook her head in disgust. "I was nothing more than a tool to them, something to be used and tossed away when no longer necessary, just as I had been used by my mother and continue to be used by Moon-man in his ridiculous quest to ease his guilt. No matter who or what they were, spirits were always the same, and I soon learned to keep my mouth shut and just walk away whenever the truth inevitably revealed itself. It saved me a whole lot of trouble."
"You can't say there weren't any spirits who—" Frost started, but fell silent when green eyes swiveled around to look at him.
"You Guardians are supposed to be the warmest and most welcoming of spirits, but I don't recall any of you being open to me," she said tonelessly, making sure to keep her face just as blank.
"What about North? He likes everybody, and he told me himself that your first meeting went all right."
Lilliana made a dismissive noise and looked away again. "Yes, he liked me and welcomed me with open arms, but only because Moon-man had put him up to it."
"Huh?"
"Oh, yes. Apparently he thought I was lonely, so he asked your fat friend to be extra nice to me so I could finally have a pal." The words dripped with derision, so much so they almost sounded sarcastic.
"Maybe Manny just genuinely wanted to help you."
She scoffed at that. "I've known him for centuries, boy, so I know for a fact that he never does anything without the expectation of some sort of return. He claims to offer me help in good faith, but in truth he merely seeks penance to ease his own conscience. Such is the extent of his selfishness and manipulation." She shook her head slightly. "But if you haven't figured that out on your own by now then I doubt you will ever understand."
The frost spirit stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.
Is he really that naive?
"Why do you think he kept quiet for so long after making you a spirit?"
"North said it was to help me find my center," Frost said at once. "Just giving away the answer makes it too easy, and honestly I can appreciate being a Guardian a lot more now that I've worked through all the problems for myself."
"Of course you do, because appreciation makes you more agreeable. Did that fairy not say that you didn't want to be a Guardian in the beginning?"
"Well, yeah," the younger spirit admitted reluctantly. "But that was because I didn't understand! I thought they were stuffy and stuck up…kinda like you do," he added with a bit of a smirk, which aggravated Lilliana.
"Hmmm, yes," she said with more than a little aggravation. "Then all of a sudden they start making you promises to get you to help them, and along the way you magically find all the answers you were looking for, which just so happens to coincide with your changing your mind and deciding to become a Guardian after all."
Now it was her turn to smirk, but unlike Frost's hers was both sharp and exceedingly cold. "A bit of a coincidence, isn't it?"
"Yes," Frost said firmly, completely missing her sarcasm.
Lilliana pursed her lips. He really is a naïve child.
"If you actually spent some time with the kids, I think you'd understand," the frost spirit told her. "Or at least watch what we do."
"I have no desire to do either of those things," she informed him stiffly. "I find the lot of you quite aggravating."
"Well, you'd better get used to it if you're gonna be a Guardian."
That particular comment caught and held Lilliana's attention. For one thing, the seemingly innocuous comment made it abundantly clear to her that Moon-man had all-but decided that she was going to become the next Guardian, almost as if the moon spirit believed she had no right to refuse the position. Considering his selfish and meddlesome ways, Lilliana supposed she shouldn't be surprised by such audacity, and yet the fact that Frost was acting as if the decision was already set in stone when nobody had even asked her or Pitch for their opinion both irritated and insulted her tremendously. But then there was the notable lack of "and because you're going to have your own kid soon" (or something to that effect) included at the end of that statement. Did that mean that Moon-man hadn't shared that juicy little tidbit with his pets yet, or was Frost just being extremely guarded so as to prevent her from finding out that he knew?
Lilliana wasn't sure how she was going to get a definitive answer to that question without tipping the young frost spirit off to the fact that she suspected something, but decided then and there that she'd find a way to do it before the conversation was over.
"So, what, you liked Pitch because he doesn't like your mom?"
It took her a moment to realize that Frost was steering her away from the current line of discussion and back to the original topic: why she liked Pitch. She was quiet for a bit, wondering if there was an ulterior motive behind his wanting to change the subject, but ultimately decided to humor the boy.
"Pitch was the only one who was completely open with me," she informed him, grabbing a spice shaker from off the counter and shaking some thyme into the pot. (She'd have much preferred fresh herbs, but she'd take what she could get.) As she stirred the dried leaves into the stew, she continued. "After being manipulated by all those self-serving spirits, I admit that my expectations had become exceedingly low. All I wanted was for someone to just be honest with me, not to mask their true thoughts and intentions behind forced smiles and false assurances. Pitch is far from perfect, I was never under any illusions about that, and he certainly didn't like me or trust me at first, but he made that perfectly clear right from the beginning. He told me precisely what he thought without a care for my power or my position or my bloodline."
She grinned suddenly. "I sort of harassed him into becoming friends with me, but I don't think he minds so much anymore."
"I should say not," Frost commented with a bit of a chuckle.
"Even when he lied to me, which occurred quite rarely and only early on in our relationship, it was never with the intent of using me and it certainly wasn't for the sake of appeasing my mother. Hell, the worst he ever did was feign curiosity about other realms in order to glean information from me, but I would hardly call that a lie or even manipulation since I knew very well what he was doing and just didn't give a damn. He could have very easily gotten that same information elsewhere if he'd wanted to.
"After sharing his company for only a short time, it became clear to me that all the stories I had ever heard about him being this dark, twisted, power-hungry spirit whose only concern was himself weren't entirely true. He put himself first in a lot of things, yes, but he still respected me and my wishes, even when there was no benefit to him for doing so. I initially took to him because I saw him as something of a kindred spirit, someone who was also disrespected and disregarded by the rest of the world, but after a time—I don't really know for sure how long it took—I just started seeing him as something more than a friend." She thought about it for a moment. "I think the first time I realized he was truly special to me was when he first invited me down to his realm."
"Oh?" Frost asked with mild surprise.
"Rumors abounded about the depths, so naturally I was curious to see it, but when he asked me to go I distinctly remember thinking: 'This is it'. Despite the fact that no one knew what his realm was really like, I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, and I expected that the shadows down there would smother my power almost completely, leaving me quite vulnerable. I knew that if any part of him wished to see me destroyed that he wouldn't dare pass up on such an opportunity, but I went there anyway because I trusted him and wanted to keep trusting him."
She smiled as memories flooded back to her, warming her in a way the hot stovetop and simmering stewpot couldn't. "He had all the opportunity in the world to destroy me, but he didn't make a single move to do so. For as selfish and self-serving as everyone claimed him to be, that night his motives were pure. He brought me to his home because he wanted me to see it, and even though he didn't say a word about it I could tell from the way he watched me that he genuinely wanted me to like it." Her smile widened. "He was so cute."
"Cute?" Frost questioned, his face twisting a bit as if the word tasted funny. Apparently he couldn't imagine the Nightmare King being cute.
"Hmmm," Lilliana confirmed with some amusement. "Extremely."
It was quiet for a bit as she tasted the stew. It was ready for the vegetables, so she moved past Frost to the table to retrieve the ones she'd chopped earlier. Carrots, potatoes, and onions were all swept into the pot with one expert motion. Once it was boiling again, she turned down the heat and set the lid. Then she took a step back. It was going to be a while before it was done.
Leaning her hip against the counter, she told Frost, "The way he acted around me that night was more than enough confirmation for me. I knew then that Pitch didn't just respect and accept and trust me, he actually cared about me. And it wasn't because of who my mother is or because he feared my power, but because of me." She closed her eyes briefly. "I'd never dreamed that anyone could ever care for me in that way. I'd never even hoped for such a thing…and I decided that night that even if it turned out to be nothing more than a passing fancy for him that I wouldn't hold it against him. I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to. Remaining friends with him was better than nothing at all."
A small smile touched her mouth. "Words can never express how thankful and happy I was when I realized I was anything but a passing fancy to him."
The smile disappeared and she glared at Frost. "Satisfied?"
"Yup!" he confirmed, before adding, "You know, you're not all that bad when you're not threatening to burn or crush everyone."
Lilliana rolled her eyes. "Please. I only told you because you guys helped us, and I'm a woman who hates owing favors."
"Uh huh."
He was still grinning, which annoyed her beyond no end.
"What did you come down here for, anyway?" she asked, hoping he'd remember and go away once he retrieved it.
"A snack."
"What happened to 'didn't we just eat dinner'?"
"Well, I can't eat a lot of hot stuff in one sitting, so I'm still kinda hungry." He blew a couple of snowflakes into the room as if to demonstrate his point about being a winter spirit. Lilliana shook her head at the unnecessary display.
"Go on then," she encouraged with a jerk of the head, and Frost obliged, slipping down from his perch to rifle through cupboards and drawers for something to eat. It took a while, but he finally gave a triumphant "Ah-hah!" and turned around with what was clearly half a cake on a platter.
"North made this for after dinner, but I thought he'd eaten it all," Frost explained as he set the cake down on the table and floated over to the cutlery drawer for a fork. "I'm surprised he didn't," he added as he sat down and started shoveling food into his mouth.
Lilliana made no comment over the fact that she and Pitch had been passed over for cake earlier, as neither of them liked sweets much and North already knew that. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to see the enormous dessert, as such sweet things comprised a significant percentage of fat man's diet, and she watched in silence as Frost slowly but surely worked his way through the remnants as if determined to polish it all off on his own.
He's going to make himself sick, she thought as he kept right on eating with no sign of slowing down.
"Want some?" Frost asked, mistaking her stares of disgust for stares of want and gesturing at what remained of the cake with his fork-free hand.
"I don't like sweets," she told him truthfully, but even as the words left her mouth she found herself wanting a piece. What the hell?
"Oh." He swallowed. "I'm not one for them much, either, but North's cakes are always good." Then he pulled a face. "Except the fruit cake. That's always a bit weird…"
Lilliana wasn't really listening. She was still wondering why in the hell she was suddenly in the mood for a great big slice of North's disgusting dessert.
Is this your doing, she thought accusingly, and almost as if to answer her the scent of rich, decadent frosting hit her nostrils, making her mouth water. Dammit, baby, you're not even born yet and already you're getting on my nerves.
Something that sounded very much like giggling filled her ears, and Lilliana stiffened, staring at Frost and then around the room, wondering if it had been her imagination.
Had to be, she decided. Frost didn't hear it at all. He didn't even react.
She frowned. Thankfully, though, the stew was finally cooked so she was distracted from having to think further on the matter. She went to the cupboards to retrieve a bowl, and ladled a hefty portion into it. Then, lacking anywhere else to sit, she took the chair opposite Frost's and ate her meal while the frost spirit continued to stuff himself silly with cake.
"What about you?" he asked around a mouthful. "Didn't you just eat too? How come you're still so hungry?"
Lilliana opened her mouth to say something noncommittal, but changed her mind at the last second. This is what I've been waiting for. Time to see if Moon-man's mouth has been running in my absence.
"I need the extra calories," she said casually, but from behind the safety of her thick curls (which had fallen around her face as she bent over her bowl with the pretense of taking another bite) she watched Frost closely, studying his reaction.
To her great surprise, the boy's response had nothing to do with the baby at all.
"Yeah, well, you were out of it for quite a while there, so you've got some catching up to do."
Neither his tone nor his face betrayed any deceit, and he continued to eat without a single hitch of the fork or mouth. Lilliana was pleased that the Guardians didn't know of her pregnancy yet, as they were the very last spirits she wanted to know right now, but at the same time she wondered why it was that Moon-man hadn't told them yet.
Maybe he's learned his lesson about interfering, she thought, but quickly dismissed the notion. More likely is that he's holding off so he can use the information against us.
The thought angered and upset her, but she figured there was no point getting worked up about it now. Better to wait until Pitch returned and she had a better idea of Moon-man's intentions.
About ten or fifteen minutes passed in silence while the two spirits ate. Lilliana's helping of stew was almost gone and Frost had eaten his way through nearly three-quarters of that sickening cake when brisk footsteps suddenly sounded from down the corridor. Lilliana knew who it was immediately, but Frost once again looked completely surprised when Pitch appeared in the kitchen. The winter spirit choked around his fork and came rather close to spitting up the food he'd just shoveled into his mouth. Pitch ignored him completely and moved straight to Lilliana's side.
"Here," he said, passing her staff to her.
"Thanks. How'd it go?"
His lip curled. "I'll tell you later," he told her quietly, the words carrying an obvious undertone of 'when we're alone'. She didn't miss, either, how his golden eyes flashed with barely-suppressed fury and something else she couldn't quite put a name to.
"That bad, huh," she said as she propped her staff against the table so she could finish eating. Moon-man must've made some awful demands then.
Frost was staring at them with his mouth hanging open, apparently shocked that Pitch was not only capable of having a normal conversation but that Lilliana was quite comfortable with having the Nightmare King lean over her with one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the tabletop. She knew that from an outsider's perspective such a position appeared rather intimidating, almost threatening, but she recognized it for what it was and knew Pitch was being possessive and protective rather than aggressive.
It must've gone really, really badly…
"Here," she said suddenly, dipping her spoon into the bowl and lifting out some of the contents. "Try this."
It was clear from his expression that Pitch wasn't in the mood to eat, but he obliged her anyway and opened his mouth. Lilliana slipped the spoon between his lips and watched as he tasted the food with a slight frown.
"That's what it's supposed to taste like," she informed him, and saw his golden eyes warm a bit as understanding finally dawned on him. Satisfied that she'd successfully distracted him from his dark thoughts (at least for the moment), she turned back to her meal.
"It does taste better," he agreed, leaning a little closer so he could murmur into her ear, "You were right."
"As always," she said with no degree of modesty, which made him smile.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frost slip quietly from the room, leaving the two of them alone. Pitch either didn't notice or didn't care, as he never took his eyes off Lilliana. He waited patiently until she was done eating before taking her hand and leading her back to their room, where they could discuss what had happened between him and Moon-man in relative privacy.