BRIANNA’S POV
For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without a weight on my chest.
No nightmares. No screams clawing at the edges of my sleep.
Just… warmth. And the scent.
That smell. I knew it instantly.
Pancakes.
But not just any pancakes—the kind she made. Not the perfectly shaped, slightly-too-sweet kind the palace cooks made, no. These were fluffier, a little uneven at the edges, soaked in love and something spiced that only my mother knew.
I didn’t even open my eyes at first. I just lay there, inhaling the scent. In that moment, I remembered a memory. I saw myself as a kid, waking up to that same smell, barefoot and wild-haired, running down the stairs and yelling, “Moooom! Save me the crunchy ones!”
Gods, I’d almost forgotten what this felt like. What peace
