The meal began with the soup. Freya lifted the pot carefully, her hands steady even though her face was still tight with nerves.
She ladled it into bowls one by one, the steam curling up between us. The smell of herbs and bread filled the room.
Redmane grabbed his bowl before she even set the ladle down. He sniffed once, shrugged, then raised the whole thing like a mug and drank.
"Redmane!" Freya snapped. "It is not ale."
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. "Soup is faster this way." He thumped the bowl back down, empty. "Not bad! Little salty. But not bad."
Nathan flinched at the noise, eyeing his own bowl. He dipped the spoon in carefully, blew on it once, then sipped. His brows rose a little. "…It's fine."
"Fine?" I leaned forward, pointing at him. "That's one step below 'good,' which means we are climbing the ladder."
He rolled his eyes, but I caught the corner of his mouth twitch.
