Liora sat by the low table in the infirmary, carefully grinding dried petals of redroot into a fine powder. The fragrance of mint and clove clung to her fingers, soothing in its simplicity. Aeren stood at the opposite side, slicing dried ginger roots with meticulous focus.
"Lady Liora," he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "have you ever thought of becoming a court physician?"
She blinked. "Me?"
"You have the hands for it," he said with a small smile. "Steady. Gentle. And unlike most healers I've worked with, you listen."
She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think I'd rather stay here, where I can breathe."
"Even if Petra isn't always… peaceful?"
She glanced toward the open doorway, where shadows of soldiers passed and the air carried the faint scent of steel and sweat.
"Peace, I've learned, isn't just the absence of chaos," she murmured. "Sometimes it's the people who make it bearable."
