The next morning in Morville was different, the air...the aroma of bacon stew and ribeye, with fresh-baked bread from the makeshift oven. Even the birds chirped melodically, as though they'd practiced the previous night, using Jacquelyn's moans as their key. The clattering of plates and spoons in the dining room added to the soft sounds now filling the once-abandoned, lonely castle.
Griselda, wearing a white apron stained with sauce, oil, and spice, stepped out of the kitchen with a heavy bowl, steam rising from it. She walked farther toward the trees and poured the hot water just under one of them. Turning back to the house, she met Ballister, who was gathering wood for the fireplace.
"I asked you to rest today; I can prepare breakfast alone," she scolded the boy in a low voice. Her eyes shifted to where he had been bitten the previous day. "Even though you heal fast, you should still take your time and rest."
