Azura's POV
It had been a week.
Seven days since we left Crescent Moon, since we arrived at Hollowcrown, and have been living at Torin's place.
Seven days and I still did not know what I was doing or where any of this was going.
Liona had left that morning with a basket over her arm and the focused energy of someone who had decided that cooking something good was the most useful contribution she could make to the current situation.
She wanted things from the market. Specific things. She had a list. She had left Torin and me with instructions about what time the meal needed to be ready and the confidence of someone who expected those instructions to be followed.
The yard was quiet without her.
Torin was on the bench with his knife across his knees, running a sharpening stone along the blade in long slow strokes. The sound of it was steady and rhythmic in the afternoon quiet. Back and forth. Back and forth. He was not rushing. He never rushed anything.
