Thessa blinked. “In my—? No. No, it was me. I wasn’t looking. I was—” She gestured vaguely to her apron. “Thinking about… soup.”
She winced at her rambling.
He laughed, a sound so rich it almost felt indecent in the thin morning air. “A worthy distraction.”
Before she could think of a reply, a cart rattled past, its driver shouting for her to clear the road. She stepped back, nearly bumping the man again.
He inclined his head, that impossible smile still curving his lips. “May your day be peaceful, Thessa.”
Then, just as easily as he had appeared, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the noise and foot traffic like mist pulled back by the tide.
When she glanced back, he was already gone. Her stomach dropped.
She hadn’t told him her name.
For a moment, she just stood there, rooted to the cobblestones. The world rushed back in all at once—the clatter of hooves, the bark of staff, a door slamming shut somewhere behind her.
Don’t be ridiculous.
She shook her head, as if to scatter the thought, and kept walking home in the pearling light of dawn, the streets still damp with night.
Her palm pressed against her eye until colors bloomed there. Rhyssa, she was exhausted. The days were smearing together, thinning into one long ache.
By the time her street opened ahead, her legs burned, sweat clung cold to her back, and every step felt like falling. She stumbled through her door, slammed it shut and rested her back to them, just long enough to drag in a breath.
Thessa lifted her head. Her mother was watching her from across the room, worry pressed into the fine lines around her eyes. Beside her stood Keeper Halwen, his brown robes smelling faintly of ash and herbs.
What was he doing here?
Sera lay curled on the cot, eyes twitching beneath shut lids, breath shallow and uneven. Sweat dampened her temples. Theblankets were tangled around her thin frame like she’d been wrestling invisible hands.
“Thessa?” her mother asked.
“I… I’m fine,” Thessa lied.
She pushed away from the door, bowed slightly toward Halwen. “Keeper. Forgive me, but—why are you here?”
Before he could answer, her mother’s tired face brightened with a fragile kind of joy. “We received a package. From the castle.”
Thessa blinked. Once, twice. “A package?”
Halwen’s voice was gentle, as it always was. “My brothers and sisters have been distributing food and herbs to those who suffered most during the landslide. Your household was among them.”
Thessa’s eyes dropped to the basket set neatly on the table. Full. Dried herbs bundled with string, bread wrapped in cloth, fruits and vegetables.
Thessa narrowed her eyes. Generosity never traveled this far down the quarter. Certainly not before a wedding.
Her mother looked at it like it was a miracle.
“Princess’s orders,” Halwen added.
Theprincess? Thessa’s chest tightened in an unfamiliar way—surprise, gratitude, suspicion tangling until she wasn’t sure which weighed heavier.
She swallowed and bowed her head anyway. In their situation, motives didn't matter. Only the fact that they could eat a warm meal. “Thank you.”
Halwen’s eyes softened as they moved to Sera. Thessa tensed at first, but her mother trusted him. Trusted the Flame. And Thessa had served at their rites enough times to know he was no stranger.
Slowly, she let herself unclench.
