We had eaten everything. And when I say everything, I mean down to the last fruit scale, the last drop of nectar, and even the fruit-skin chips I thought were just decorative.
But the most surprising thing in all this… was Lysara. Sitting cross-legged in front of the cart, she had devoured. Silent, but with an almost animal intensity. Her black eyes fixed on each fruit like a prey. She bit, licked, swallowed, drank… as if she had never been allowed to eat for pleasure.
I watched her between two sips of Fireblood.
— You know you're supposed to eat slowly, right?
She didn't answer.
But she looked up, a piece of Night Scale between her fingers.
— It's too good, she whispered.
I raised an eyebrow, amused.
— Wow. Three words in a row. You're really opening up this morning.
She looked down, a slight shiver crossing her shoulders.
But she added, softly:
— Thank you… for yesterday.
I stopped chewing.
