“My power has never been anyone’s favorite. I’m used to it. Even my own Binder tells me to stay out of her business from time to time.”
That pulls a quiet chuckle out of me just as the door creaks open behind us, and we both turn.
“Oh. It’s just you two,” Lambrit says, poking his head out.
“The others should be back soon,” I say. “You want to come take a breather?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”
He shuts the door before I can say anything else, and I arch a brow, glancing at Iric.
“He’s not fine,” I mutter.
Iric watches the door for a second longer before responding.
“No,” he agrees. “But he’s not just distracting himself either.”
Something in the way he says it makes my spine straighten.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s organizing.”
I frown. “Yeah…that’s pretty obvious.”
“I mean, he’s organizingeverything,” he says, shaking his head. “Grief. Blame. Action. Outcome. And when someone like him starts putting things into order, they don’t stop at what’s in front of them.”
I blow out a breath harsh enough that my lips flap together. That’s something I’m familiar with. Valories know once Amick gets his mind set to something, there’s no stopping him.
“Well, in my experience, organizing is definitely not the worst distraction or coping mechanism. There’s a hell of a lot more dangerous or stupid ways of handling grief.”
“That’s one hundred percent true,” he grunts, nodding in agreement as I gesture toward the door.
I’ve had a long enough breather, and Thayla’s soul is in over-the-top ‘let me make sure all my men are alive mode.’
The moment we step inside, the delicious aromas hit me even harder.
Gods, that smells good.
Iric and I follow the sound of giggles and the scent of something sweet.
My gaze immediately finds Thayla, leaning against the counter with her chin resting in her hands and a tender smile on her lips.
Laney stands on a chair pulled up beside Annalise, and her small hands are buried in a bowl as she mixes something with far more enthusiasm than precision.
Flour dusts from her nose down the front of her shirt. There’s something sticky on her cheek. If I had to guess, it’s Annalise’s famous thickened sweet cream she puts on top of her muffins.
There’s a bright smile on Laney’s face.
Annalise stands beside her, calm as ever, guiding her with a grin. She lets the mess happen, but has her hand braced behind the bowl so it doesn’t go tumbling off the edge.
“Slow down a little, Laney.” Thayla chuckles. “You’re wearing more of the food than there will be to eat.”
Laney giggles, not slowing down at all.
“I want it to be ready when Creed gets back,” she says, like that explains everything.
My chest tightens, but I manage a small smile as I step further into the kitchen.
