Thalina glanced at the ribs again, then quickly looked away. No. She was on strike. No speaking. No eating. Definitely no eating roasted beast ribs, even if they were slightly glazed and seasoned just the way she liked.
But her stomach was a traitor. It growled loud enough to echo off the hut walls.
Eyrx's lip twitched. Just slightly.
She narrowed her eyes at the floor, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
He calmly opened a bundle of fruit and pushed it closer to her side of the room. Still no words. Just that irritating patience. That unbearable calm.
The smell hit her again. Sweet, earthy, perfectly ripe.
She tilted her head up just enough to glare at him from the corner of her eye, then let out the most dramatic huff in existence.
But she didn't move.
And neither did he.
They just sat there—him, silently unpacking her favorite foods like it meant nothing, and her, glaring at the wall like she could burn a hole through it.
Fine. She wasn't going to eat.
