“Gods’ bones.” Envy grabbed his fork. “What kind of magic do they use in that kitchen?” “No magic. Just a northern recipe passed down through the generations,” I said. “Emilia visited a few weeks ago and loved it.” Envy snorted. “Did our sister-in-law persuade Shirlee to give up the recipe?” “Not even close. Shirlee laughed all the way back to the kitchen.” Envy’s grin widened; his fondness for our sister-in-law always broke through the mask of indifference he wore like armor. “I imagine Emilia took that well.” Emilia had. She’d dug into the food and immediately tried to identify the
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