“What about me?” Scorpia asks, walking into the kitchen to peer at the meal. On the other side of the main deck, her little Gaian slips into my sister’s room. I clench my jaw, avoiding the impulse to tell someone to keep an eye on her. Everyone seems to have forgotten awfully fast that she’s an outsider we have no reason to trust.

“We’re discussing your terrible life decisions,” Lyre says all-so-innocently. She pauses long enough for Scorpia’s cheeks to flush before clarifying, “I mean the time you tried to cook, of course.”

“Right. Yeah.” Scorpia coughs and shrugs. “I mean, I did my best. No one else stepped up.”

“Stars,” Drom groans. “I almost managed to forget about that.” She clutches her stomach in mock pain while Scorpia flips her off and reaches into the cabinet for a bottle of whiskey.

“Scorpia? Cooking?” I glance at her, eyebrows raised.

“Only once,” Lyre says. “Once was enough. She lit the rice on fire.”

“On fire?” I ask, while Lyre and Drom nod somberly, and Scorpia takes a long swig. “How…?”

“And the curry was so spicy it was physically painful,” Drom says. “Not even Pol would eat it.”

“Momma threw hers in the trash after one bite,” Lyre says, giggling at Scorpia’s sour expression.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll concede that my cooking is likely better than that.”

“In my defense, I was very drunk,” Scorpia says.

I laugh, shaking my head as I turn back to stir the stew. When I turn around again, all three of them are staring at me.

“What?” I ask, glancing down to check if I spilled something on myself.

“Holy shit,” Drom says. “I think that’s the first time.”

“The first what?”

“It is,” Lyre says, with a small smile. Baffled, I look at Scorpia.

“The first time you laughed since you got back,” she says.

I stare at her, confused for a second as it sinks in. A moment later, my contentment melts away into guilt. Who am I, to be laughing and enjoying myself as if the last couple of months never happened? I don’t deserve moments like this. Not anymore.

“Well, there hasn’t been much to laugh about,” I mumble, and turn back to the stove. Behind me, Drom groans, and I hear a quiet whap of contact followed by a whine from Scorpia.

“Aw, see what you did? Now he’s got that broody-ass look back again,” Drom says.

“All right, get out of here and let me finish dinner,” I say, their presence starting to grate on me now.

While the other two wander off, Lyre slips off the counter and stands behind me, putting one arm around me in a hug and resting her cheek against my back. I stay as I am, staring down into the bubbling stew and trying to fight the guilt still gnawing at my insides.

“You doing okay?” Lyre asks, her voice muffled.