Faye's POV
The wooden spoon clinked against the iron pot as I stirred the thick stew, watching bubbles break the surface while aromatic steam rose around me. The rich smell of seasoned meat and herbs had soaked into every corner of the cramped kitchen, clinging to my skin and dress like a heavy blanket. My arms ached from the long night I'd spent tending to the wounded, but I couldn't bring myself to stop stirring.
"The Matron still hasn't left her post," Selena announced from the doorway behind me.
I kept my focus on the pot, afraid that if I looked away even for a moment, the stew might scorch along the bottom.
Selena stepped closer, her voice carrying a note of concern. "You should be sleeping right now. After working through the entire night in the infirmary, you need rest. What if the Lord discovers you're pushing yourself like this?"
"He won't find out," I snapped, whipping around to face her with more fire than I'd intended.
