Page 107 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

“Sure.” He smiles—an act, one he’s surprisingly good at. “Coke is fine if you have it.”

As my mother scurries off to fetch the drink, my father arrives. He’s been in his study, and the dazed look on his face says he’s still half-focused on something else.

I nod. “Father.”

“Daughter.” He chuckles, taking a seat at the head of the table. “What happened to Papá? No need to be so formal.”

My lips flatten. “We have company, remember?”

Realization appears to dawn on my father, his attention shifting to my companion. “Jun! I’m pleased you could make it. You look well, all things considered.”

“I feel well,” Jun says. “Healed up in no time.”

“Glad to hear it. It puts me at ease to know Margaux is with such a powerful partner.”

I snort, and Jun is smiling all too smugly. Asshole.

“I have to say,” my father continues. “I’m impressed you two made it this far in the trials.”

My mother returns in a blur, shooting a glare in my father’s direction.

“Do not talk about the trials at my dinner table.” Her words are clipped short. “We are here to have a lovely time, to get to know Margaux’s partner. I donotpermit work chat at my dinner table.”

“Of course,mi vida.” My father ducks his head, a smile playing on his lips.

Forgetting about work has always been a struggle for him, and in some ways, I think that’s why he and my mother are a good fit. She’s constantly jetting from one vacation to the next, the total opposite of his workaholic tendencies.

If he wants a moment of his mate’s time, he’s forced to take a vacation.

My mother sets a bottle of Mexican Coke in front of Jun.

“Wow.” Jun lifts the bottle, taking a delicate sip of the drink. “You sprung for the good stuff.”

“Of course,” my mother says. “Margaux acquired her taste from someone, did she not?”

I roll my eyes. “You always find a way to compliment yourself through complimenting me, don’t you?”

“You’re right.” She chuckles. “Sorry, sorry. That’s enough about us. I want to know everything about you, Jun. Tell us about yourself.”

For the first time, Jun’s act wavers. He shifts, and his smile tightens as he stares at his empty plate.

Of course, my mother forgets to serve the food.

“Maman? Father?” I say, hoping to save Jun. “Shouldn’t we have food on our plates before we interview my mate?”

Mate or not, I fight an urge to protect Jun from my nosy mother. It’s my fault he’s here.

“Right, you are!” My father stands, cutting slabs of roast beef. “I will do the honors.”

Beside me, Jun’s posture relaxes. We can’t put the conversation off for long, but it gives him a moment to collect himself. He doesn’t speak until we have food on our plates.

“I’m a theater student,” Jun says, “like Margaux. That’s how we met.”

“Oh?” My mother leans in, delighted by the insignificant detail. “Have you been in a show together? I’m sad to say I might have missed it.”

“We’ve been in many,” Jun says. “You probably saw us without realizing. Our Professors love pairing us together.” He turns to look at me, and I don’t flinch away, easily meeting his gaze.

“It used to annoy me how often we would end up as scene partners, but…” I let out a delicate sigh. “They saw something we didn’t.”