Gran finds me and gently propels me into the kitchen. She seats me at the table, hands me a cup of hot chocolate, and nudges a plate of cookies in my direction. I shove a cookie in my mouth and look at Gran with pleading, plaintive eyes. She doesn’t say anything but raises an eyebrow as she waits for me to finish chewing. With a moan I bury my head in my hands. “He thinks I’m crazy. And he doesn’t trust me. And the King of Winter was at our front door.” Gran crunches a cookie thoughtfully. “And how did you find the King this evening?” My jaw drops and I look up. “That’s all you’re going to ask me? What the King’s mood was? Maybe I should have asked him to stay and join us for a little snack. Then the two of you could have chatted.” “We already did.” Gran finishes her cookie, making a big show of dusting off the non-existent crumbs on her shirt. “Wait, you called him here, didn’t you?
