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Chapter 71 - Cooking Together [II]

The fire under the stove coughed to life after a few stubborn sparks. Thin lines of smoke curled upward, the smell of singed wood filling the kitchen. The heavy pot sat on top, still empty, waiting for its fate.

Freya stood stiffly at the counter, sleeves rolled high, staring down at an onion as though it had personally insulted her family name. Her knife hovered, hesitant, too elegant in her grip for something as simple as chopping.

"This," she said coldly, "is absurd. I should not be doing this."

"Absurd is exactly the word," I agreed cheerfully, sawing at a carrot that splintered into chunks more than slices. "But alas, here we are. Noble lady and street rat, united by the sacred duty of soup."

She shot me a glare sharp enough to cut the onion for her. "Stop talking."

I ignored her and slid my lopsided carrot pieces into the pot. They hit the bottom with sad, hollow clunks. A noble beginning to a noble dish.

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