The last traces of daylight had bled away by the time Lor and Kiara reached his house, the cobbled lane bathed in the sleepy glow of lanterns casting pale yellow light.
Lor paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle, but before he could touch it, the door swung inward, spilling warmth and the rich scent of roasted herbs and butter into the evening air.
Mira stood in the doorway, her apron tied snugly around her waist, smooth black hair pulled back in a neat bun.
Her face lit up at the sight of them, her smile warm and unguarded.
"Oh, thank god—you're both here," she said, her voice bright with relief. "Lor, I was starting to worry, and Kiara—" her eyes softened, crinkling at the corners—"looks like you found him. Brought him home. I couldn't ask for better."
Lor scratched his cheek, muttering something vague, caught between agreement and a half-hearted grumble.
Kiara, ever poised, flashed a polished smile, her dark eyes glinting with practiced charm.
