Aria returned to the east wing on the fourth day. The room was the same. But something had shifted behind her eyes. She didn't go back to work immediately. She sat on the edge of the mattress and ate the medicinal broth Elara had sent with her. She drank the full flask of water relit the hearth herself. Then she began to watch. The kitchens were the heart of the pack. Aria had always known this, but she had never studied it before. Marta ruled with silence and sharp looks. The younger cooks feared her, while the older ones respected her. No one questioned her orders. But twice in three days, Aria saw Marta delay Selene's dinner by ten minutes. enough that the meat was slightly cool, the bread slightly hard. No one noticed except Aria. Marta caught her looking. Held her gaze. Said nothing. Aria filed it away. Mira was a well of information. She talked constantly, about warriors, servants, elders, patrols. Most people dismissed her as a gossip. Aria had dismissed her too. Now sh
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