Eira’s POV
The sunlight hitting the water stain on the ceiling looks different today.
I’m lying on the mattress, listening to the sounds of the apartment. Soren is humming off-key in the kitchen. Draven is arguing with the toaster. Art is just breathing, steady and deep, probably already awake but enjoying the quiet.
“We’re taking the day off,” Soren announces, appearing in the doorway. He leans against the frame, tossing an apple in the air and catching it.
I sit up, pulling the blanket with me. “Titus won’t like that.”
“Titus doesn’t know we exist until we bring him a head,” Draven says, walking past with a piece of burnt toast. “And right now, we are officially off the clock.”
“We thought we’d show you the market,” Soren says. His tone is casual, but his eyes are watching me care
