Rayna POV
The door creaks softly as I step back into the main room.
He’s at the hearth. Kneeling.
The fire’s already built - low but steady, glowing amber against the stone. A cast-iron pan rests on a simple stand above it, the scent of herbs and meat hitting me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t even realized I was starving until now.
He doesn’t look up. Just stirs once, carefully, then sets the spoon aside.
“You’re fast,” he says without turning.
I cross my arms. “You timed me?”
“I time everything.”
I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be a joke. It doesn’t sound like one.
My eyes scan the small space. There’s a plate already on the table. Bread. Dried fruit. A second cup sits next to his own - still steaming.
I hesitate. “You cook now?”
“I survive,” he replies, standing. He does
