Nefretiri
The mug didn't hit its mark. It shattered with a loud pop before it hit Simon's forehead.
If things had ended there, it would've already been bad, but it didn't. They changed instead of the shards falling to the ground after cutting his skin, transforming into big globs of amber-colored syrup that could only be honey. How did I do that? I have no clue, but instead of being hurt, Simon was covered in enough honey to cover his face, shirt, and one of the legs of his pants.
No one moves or speaks.
I don't know what was more shocking. The fact I'd managed to do magic when I shouldn't have been able to, or the results of that magic. The last time I'd done anything, I'd made Luke's bow, but I hadn't been alone then, and Klytios had tested me. So, how had I done it now, and why had the mug turned to honey? Simon wasn't hurt, but by the anger on his face, it would've been better if it had knocked him out.
