Elariana
The morning still felt like it was stepping around me carefully, as if it was not sure it was allowed to pour full light over me. But when Zane stood and said he would have breakfast brought, something tiny yet enormous shifted inside me. The thought that my hunger was not a scandal, not shame, not the doorway to punishment. It was simply a sign that my body was alive, and someone did not want to silence it.
It did not take long before he returned. The tent flap moved, and the next moment he was there with a bowl of warm food, a mug, and a piece of fresh bread. Steam rose from the bowl. The smell of spices and meat mixed together, simple and natural, as if this had always been part of my morning.
Zane did not come too close. He set the bowl down on a flat board inside the tent,
