The kitchens of Bloodstone Manor had never been noisier, breaking the usual morning stillness of the estate. Servants bustled between massive stone ovens and long wooden preparation tables, their arms laden with overflowing baskets of fresh vegetables, heavy sacks of flour, and steaming iron pots filled with fragrant broth.
Usually, this domain operated with military precision under the strict supervision of the head cook, ensuring every dish emerged flawless and precisely on schedule.
Today, however, the orderly routine had completely dissolved. The entire space had devolved into a beautifully chaotic playground, filled with the rare sound of bright laughter and clattering utensils.
Seraphyne tied a crisp linen apron around Kieran's tiny waist, smoothing down the fabric before stepping back to admire her handiwork. She smiled warmly at the sight of her young son, who was currently drowning in the oversized cloth.
