I lean against the counter, watching Lorenth dice vegetables with the kind of precision that suggests he's done this a thousand times. His wings are partially unfurled, relaxed, the gray feathers catching the afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window.
Three weeks.
Three weeks of waking up in his arms. Three weeks of exploring this beautiful, chaotic city. Three weeks of feelingsafe.
"You're staring." He doesn't look up from the cutting board, but there's amusement threading through his voice.
"Maybe I like what I'm seeing."
That earns me a glance, golden-ringed eyes warming with something that makes heat curl low in my belly. "Keep looking at me like that and we're not making it to dinner."
I grin, turning back to the pot of broth simmering on the stove. The kitchen smells like zynthra and brimbark, the vegetables we picked up from the market this morning. Lorenth insisted on teaching me how to make proper stew—apparently my first attempt last week was "edible but tragic."
His words, not mine.
"Stir that or it'll stick." He moves behind me, one hand settling on my hip while he reaches around to add the diced vegetables to the pot. The heat of his body against my back makes me lean into him automatically.
This. This casual intimacy. This easy comfort in each other's space.
I never knew it could be like this.
The bond pulses with warm satisfaction, echoing the contentment spreading through my chest. Lorenth presses a kiss to my temple before moving back to the cutting board, and I can't help smiling as I stir the vegetables into the broth.
"Lora mentioned wanting to take you to the theater district next week." He's slicing brimbark now, each cut precise. "Some new performance she thinks you'll enjoy."
"She doesn't have to keep finding excuses to spend time with me." Though I love that she does. Lora has become something like the sister I never had—warm and laughing and utterly shameless about interrogating me for embarrassing stories about Lorenth.
"She likes you." Simple. Direct. "Kova and Kaelan ask about you constantly."
The mention of Lora's children makes warmth bloom in my chest. Kova with her endless questions about everything, Kaelan with his quiet observations and unexpected wit. They're wonderful.
"I like them too."
A sharp knock interrupts whatever Lorenth might have said. He looks up, wings rustling with annoyance. "Probably Lora."
"She knocked this time." I can't quite suppress my grin. "Progress."
His answering look is pure exasperation. "Only because she walked in on us last week and got an eyeful she didn't ask for."
My face heats at the memory. We'd been on the couch. Very much occupied. And Lora had breezed through the front door without warning, taken one look at the scene, shrieked something about "warning a sister," and backed right out again.
She's knocked ever since.
"At least she learned." I stir the stew, trying not to laugh.
Lorenth mutters something unflattering about nosy siblings as he wipes his hands on a towel and heads toward the front door. I turn down the heat on the stew, letting it simmer while I move to start slicing the bread we bought this morning.
The door opens. Lorenth's voice carries back to the kitchen. "If you're here to interrogate Senna about?—"
"Oh, are you going to threaten me too?" A familiar voice cuts him off, teasing and warm and utterly unexpected. "Tell me I can't come after her? Because I heard someone made that speech to an entire village."
My hands freeze on the bread knife.
That voice.
I know that voice.
"Mira?" The name comes out strangled as I abandon the bread and practically run for the front door.
