The morning light spilled softly through the corridor where Anana and Elia stood. Anana leaned close slowly, her voice a whisper of mischief.
“Elia, do you know,” she began, her lips curving in a secret smile, “that the sweetest bread in the whole Crimson Blood Pack comes from the Master’s oven himself? Golden crust, soft as clouds, and sweet enough to make you forget your name.”
Elia’s eyes widened like a child hearing a fairytale. “Really?” she gasped. “The sweetest in the whole pack?”
Anana nodded solemnly. “Mm-hmm. I’ve tried… oh, I’ve tried… to sneak one for myself. But the Master of the Kitchen always catches me.” She laughed, the sound soft and warm. “You’d think being Luna gives me some power there, but no. That man guards his bread like treasure. Still…” Her eyes glinted. “It’s
