The Art of Kindness

"This … surprisingly tastes just like my mother's pie," Lucian murmured, his voice laced with nostalgia.

They were curled up on the couch together, Medeia lazily leaning against his arm while Lucian fed her another spoonful of blueberry pie. He took a bite himself, savoring the flavor. 

Harry had told them to get to the soldiers' jail quickly since the prisoners would be waking up soon, but neither of them showed any sign of moving.

Instead, they silently agreed: they weren't going anywhere until every last crumb of pie was gone.

"The system gave me your mom's recipe," Medeia said, licking a stray bit of filling from her lips. "But I didn't expect it to taste that spot-on." She opened her mouth as Lucian playfully hovered another spoonful in front of her lips. "Was your mother a good cook?"