Her hands clenched at her sides. The tightness in her chest pulled taut. She looked toward Neuril — standing quiet at the edge, amber eyes uncertain, not pushing, just watching. Eighteen years old and about to miss her enrollment window because her older sister was standing frozen in front of a stove.
Lira exhaled through her nose.
"Fine."
She tied her apron and moved to the counter, hands finding work out of muscle memory. Her mind, though, was turning something over that had no clean answer.
'Why is he here?'
Fifteen minutes. Every meal prepped, plated, carried.
Lira and Neuril both moved through the dining floor distributing bowls. Two of the bodyguards near the kitchen door stepped forward with a bow and offered help — Lira gave a single nod and let them.
Nearly every seat was handled. Nearly.
One remained.
