[Meredith].
I moved to the mortar at the centre of the table and selected the first batch of dried leaves.
Azul stepped forward at once, handing me the cloth-lined bowl. "Luna."
"Thank you," I murmured.
Then I slowly, deliberately crushed the leaves. The pestle moved in a steady rhythm, grinding until the herbs released their deep, grounding, faintly sweet scent.
As the fragrance rose, something in my chest eased. This was familiar.
"Deidra," I said without looking up, "heat the oil in a low flame only."
"Yes, Luna."
The soft hiss of fire followed.
"Kira, strain the second batch. Arya, check the beeswax. There should be no impurities. Cora, prepare the binding bowls."
They moved immediately, coordinating properly. Once the oil was warm, I added the crushed herbs, stirring clockwise with the wooden paddle.
My wrist ached, but I welcomed it. Healing demanded patience, and the mixture thickened slowly, darkening into a rich green sheen.
"It smells good," Arya said quietly.
