Steam curled into the air as Raelynn stirred the simmering soup in the pot, the gentle bubbling sound filling the otherwise quiet kitchen. The scent of garlic and herbs drifted around her, warm and inviting, but her mind was elsewhere. She hadn't intended to cook, but after everything that had happened, her hands had moved on their own. It felt like the least she could do.
Her gaze flickered to the bandages wrapped around her fingers, a small reminder of how reckless she had been. And then, there was Elion—wounded because of her. A pang of guilt twisted inside her chest, making her grip the wooden spoon tighter. He had shielded her without hesitation, taken the brunt of the attack meant for her. She sighed, scooping up a spoonful of broth before tasting it. The flavors were rich, but she barely registered them.
