Hopping off the bed, I snagged a white robe hanging on the wall and shrugged it on, then sauntered out into the living room. The server was gone, and I eyed the cart he’d left next to Iannis’s dining table, piled high with eggs, potatoes, sausage, bagels, and other breakfast foods.

“Don’t you think he knows he’s feeding more than one person every time he comes up here?” I asked as I sat down across from Iannis. I picked up the fancy ceramic plate from the table and began heaping food onto it. “I highly doubt you were eating all of this for breakfast on your own.”

“Of course he knows,” Iannis said mildly as he buttered his bagel. “The palace staff will have guessed my ulterior motive behind moving you to the west wing as well.” He smirked a little, then took a bite of his bagel. “But appearances must still be kept up. We are not married yet, Sunaya, and we cannot publicly flaunt convention.”

“Right.” I pressed my lips together, then picked up my fork and stabbed at a potato. “Why do engagements have to take so long, anyway?”

Iannis arched a brow at me over his cup of coffee. “I thought you were happy with the idea of a long engagement.”

I scowled. “I was, because I didn’t think it would be good to rush into the whole marriage thing.” Truthfully, I needed more time to get used to the idea. Marriage was forever, a huge commitment even when I didn’t consider Iannis’s lifespan, which would likely be significantly longer than the three hundred or so years I could hope for. “But even though we’re engaged, we still have to skulk around. It’s starting to grate on me.” Secrecy and discretion in relationships wasn’t really something I was used to as a shifter.

Iannis’s expression tightened, and he set down his coffee cup. “I don’t know what more you would have me do, Sunaya. I am still the Chief Mage, and I am supposed to set a good example. I must follow the rules, at least in public.”

“I know.” I softened my voice as a pang of guilt hit me—I was being unfair. “It’s just… frustrating.”

Iannis nodded. “Why don’t we eat?” he suggested, picking up his fork and knife. “We can talk after you’ve gotten some food into you.”

I did as he suggested, digging into the mountain of food I’d piled onto my plate. Even pacing myself, I still polished off my food before Iannis, and was well into my third helping by the time he reached for more. Shifters relied on super-fast metabolisms for our healing powers and strength, so we required much more fuel than the average person.

“Feeling better?” Iannis asked, a hint of amusement in his tone as I leaned back in my chair with a sigh.