“Jace tried to cook.” I drop the pancake-shaped brick back onto the plate with a thunk. “Emphasis on tried.”
She surveys the carnage - flour coating every surface, a mixing bowl abandoned in the sink, what looks like egg shells scattered across the counter. “What happened? Did he forget how fire works?”
“He was distracted.”
Zira’s eyebrow quirks. “Distracted how?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He just seemed… off this morning. Flustered.”
She starts moving through the kitchen, collecting destroyed dishes with practiced efficiency. There’s something easy about the way she works, like she’s done this before - cleaned up someone else’s emotional disasters.
“You know,” she says, scraping carbon off a pan, “in my experience, men only cook this badly when they’re thinking about something else. Something that’s got them all turned around.”
The way she says it makes me look at her more closely. “Speaking from experience?”
Her smile is sharp and knowing. “Oh, honey. I’ve seen this exact mess before.”
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes. It’s nice, having another woman here who doesn’t expect me to explain or justify or perform. She just… helps.
“So,” she says, rinsing a bowl. “Thane seems… different this morning.”
My hands still on the dish I’m drying. “Different how?”
“Less like he’s about to murder someone. More like…” She pauses, studying my face. “Like he found something he wasn’t expecting to find.”
Heat crawls up my throat. I keep my eyes on the plate, scrubbing at a spot that isn’t there.
“Bree.” Her voice softens, but there’s steel underneath. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “It’s—”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her eyes sharpen. “I can feel it on you.”
My stomach flips. The cloth slips from my hands. “We… we bonded. A couple days ago.”
Zira goes completely still. When I finally look up, she’s staring at me like I just told her I’d rewritten the laws of magic.
“Was he feeding when it happened?”
My face burns. “Yes.”
“Gods.” She sets down the bowl with shaking hands. “Bree, do you understand what you’ve done?”
“I—”
“You bonded with the Council’s Feeder representative. The highest-ranking Feeder in the magical world.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I told you. You’re changing everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Feeding bonds are possessive. If he tries to feed elsewhere without your permission, it’ll feel empty. Wrong.” She studies my face. “But more than that—you just made a statement to every Feeder alive. The Source accepts us. Chooses us. Bonds with us.”
My chest tightens. “I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t think. You just acted on instinct and heart.” Her expression shifts, something like awe creeping in. “And that’s exactly what they needed to see.”
Before I can respond, a sound cuts through the air outside. Not voices—a hum. Low and resonant, like hundreds of people breathing in unison.
Zira’s posture shifts instantly. The easy domesticity disappears, replaced by something sharp and alert. But there’s no fear in herexpression. Instead, something like anticipation flickers across her face.
