She glanced at the plate of muffins. “Is there something wrong with them?” she asked, and Mor’s hand flashed out to the plate. He dragged the whole platter toward himself before she could take one, and he forced himself to swallow the fungus—he felt it slide all the way down his throat like a rock in sticky mud. “They’re so good, I want them all,” he declared, hugging the plate to himself. “And I’m faeborn starving.” “Mor, let me try one,” Violet demanded. She glanced to the female intern beside Mor. “Can you grab one for me?” But Mor shook his head and yanked the platter away when the young
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