But he was smiling.
That soft, genuine smile that made her chest feel warm and tight.
The servants placed the covered dish on the table in front of Heena and stepped back.
Larus moved to stand beside the table, his hands clasped in front of him, looking nervous and hopeful and absolutely endearing.
"Your Majesty," he said formally, and his voice only shook a little. "I've prepared kheer—a traditional sweet dish from my homeland. It's made with rice, milk, sugar, and dried fruits. I... I hope it pleases you."
Heena stared at the covered dish, then at Larus's anxious face, then at the small burns on his hands.
He'd hurt himself. Making her dessert.
Something in her chest cracked open.
"Larus," she said softly, "your hands—"
"It's nothing," he said quickly. "Just a few small burns. I'm not very experienced with cooking equipment. But I was careful with the kheer itself. I promise it's safe to eat."
He reached out and carefully lifted the lid.
