The scent of sizzling spices filled the air as Mara stirred the contents of a dented pot, the gentle clink of a wooden spoon against its sides providing a rhythmic accompaniment to the comforting warmth of the room. Across from her, Matilda moved with practiced ease, chopping vegetables with a sharp knife that gleamed under the soft lights.
"You've always been better at this than me," Mara said with a grin, her eyes darting to Matilda. "Remember when I tried to make soup that one time and turned it into... what did you call it? Oh, right—boiled disaster."
Matilda laughed, the sound rich and full of nostalgia. "I said that because you somehow managed to burn water, Mara. Water." She shook her head, her hands moving deftly as she added the chopped vegetables into a steaming pan. "You're lucky Zafron wasn't home to see it. He would've never let you live it down."
