Kalisa sat stiffly in the chair, her knuckles white where she clutched the edge of the counter. Sherly busied herself with the kettle, filling it with water, her movements sharp, betraying the storm of worry beneath her calm surface. The flower shop smelled faintly of lavender and soil, but even that familiar comfort couldn't soothe the dread that hung between them.
"Drink this," Sherly said finally, sliding a steaming mug toward Kalisa. "You look like you'll faint if you don't."
Kalisa didn't touch it. Her eyes were locked on the darkened window, as if she expected Don Khan's men to burst through at any moment.
"I can't sit here drinking tea while Caleb is in chains," she muttered.
Sherly dropped heavily into the chair across from her. "You think tea fixes everything I've seen? No. But it keeps you grounded long enough to think clearly. And that's what we need right now, we need clear thinking."
