The air in the galley smelled delicious, rich with butter and spices, and my stomach growled. Torran stood at the stove with his back to me. Luna clung to the guard on his shoulder, watching him cook. She turned and chirruped at me in greeting.

Torran glanced at me. “Are you hungry?” The question was casual, but his body language was not. He’d changed out of his armor, so I could see the tense line of his shoulders.

A thousand questions and accusations flickered through my mind, but I was too tired to fight right now, so I gave him the simplest answer. “I’m starving.”

“May I cook for you?” The question was oddly formal, and I still hadn’t looked up Valovian food customs. But I’d been cooking for him for nearly a week without incident, so the opposite probably wouldn’t cause any new problems—I hoped.

“Sure,” I agreed, “if you don’t mind. But if it’s too much work, I can grab a meal bar.”

He pointed at the bar. “Sit. I’m nearly finished.”

I frowned. “I don’t want to eat your lunch,” I protested. I edged toward the pantry. “A meal bar is fine.”

A barstool slid back by itself. “Sit,” he said again. “There is more than enough food to share.”

I gingerly perched on the seat and propped my elbows on the bar. Torran moved around the space with an easy familiarity. I tended to eat lunch at odd hours, grabbing leftovers or a bar whenever hunger finally pulled me from my task list, so I hadn’t noticed that he’d been cooking.

And he appeared to be good at it.

He slid the pan’s contents onto two plates, and then put a little bit on a small saucer and blew on it. Once it was cool, he set it on the floor and Luna jumped down with a little chirp. She butted her head against his leg, then turned to the food.

My heart threatened to melt, but I very firmly reminded it that Torran was the enemy.

Wasn’t he?

The more time I spent around him and his crew, the less sure I became. It was hard to think of the people you shared meals with as the enemy—that was the whole point of the shared meals—but for me, it had worked a little too well.

Eli was right, my heart was too soft. I was beginning to think of the Valoffs as allies, maybe even friends. And that was potentially a very dangerous mistake to make.

Before I could figure out how to fix it, Torran set a plate in front of me, then handed me a glass of water to go with it. He joined me at the bar with his own plate and drink.