"Why are you cooking when we have a full staff of servants for this?" Casaio asked, his voice a low vibration near her ear. He leaned in from behind, resting his chin on Zilia's shoulder as he watched her deftly chop spring onions.
"The weather has been acting strange since the evening," Zilia stated, her focus never wavering from the blade. "I decided to send the maids home early tonight. Besides, a husband should occasionally enjoy a meal prepared by his wife's own hands. Now, move along so I can work faster."
Casaio chuckled and took a step to the side, leaning his back against the marble counter. He crossed his arms, his eyes tracing every movement of Zilia's face as she worked.
"We are royals, Zilia," he reminded her gently. "Even if they work fixed hours, you aren't obligated to dismiss them just because of a little storm."
"It seems you don't actually love my cooking—" she began, but Casaio quickly cut her off.
