Aliana’s POV

I was at the kitchen counter, unconsciously munching on a fresh croissant. The house was remarkably still, aside from the sporadic clanging of dishes from the staff bustling around. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hung in the atmosphere.

Mercy rested against the kitchen island, mixing a spoonful of sugar into her coffee while regarding me with an amused look.

"You've been poking that croissant with your fork for the last five minutes," she remarked, grinning. ...