The royal dining hall of the Sun Palace was less of a dining room and more of a torture chamber with nice tablecloths.
In the center of the long, golden table sat a massive clay pot. It wasn't just steaming; it was bubbling like a witch's cauldron. The air above it shimmered with heat. The smell was incredible—rich, savory, and so spicy that Caspian's eyes started watering from ten feet away.
"Behold," Queen Mother Durga announced, gesturing to the pot. "The Fire-Lotus Curry."
Primrose stared at the curry. It was bright red. Not tomato red. Danger red.
"Is it supposed to be glowing?" Primrose whispered to Rajah.
"Yes," Rajah whispered back, looking terrified. "It's made with peppers grown in the heart of a volcano. My father used to eat this before battle to make himself angry."
"Sit," Durga commanded.
