PREVIEW

... /p>

It was supposed to be a quiet, early bedtime kind of night—rest before the long journey to ancient demon ruins, secret paths, and probably some overly dramatic stone doors that required blood offerings or interpretive dance.

Instead, Elias stepped into the kitchen to find Rhea on a stool, covered head to toe in powdered sugar and waging war against dough.

There was flour on the ceiling.

The ceiling.

She looked up with the proud smile of a battlefield genera ...

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