10
Kaiya picked up the previous night’s plates from the dining table and took them to the kitchen, grimacing at the morning sun. The mess of her and Tilda’s marashta-making still littered the kitchen benches, but the effort had been worth it. Kormac had enjoyed the home-cooked meal, even if his response was somewhat muted.
And the marashta had tasted good, to her delight, though that was Tilda’s touch, most likely.
Kaiya yawned and began to fill the dishwasher, eyeing the collection of empty packets that sat in droplets of oil all over the benches.
“You’re up early,” came Tilda’s voice from behind.
Kaiya groaned agreement. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m always up early. Anyway, I figured you’d want to spend as much time as you could in bed.”
Kaiya turned and gave her an arch look. Tilda
