Faelyn did her last check of the cooking setup late, when both villages had gone quiet.
She walked the whole thing slowly. Cookware in position. Firewood stacked the way she needed it. Herbs laid out in order.
'Okay,' she thought, looking at all of it. 'We're actually doing this tomorrow. This is real. This is happening.'
[You've been saying that for twenty minutes,] Puffball said.
'I'm processing.'
[You've checked the silverleaf three times.]
'I'm making sure it's there.'
[It's there. It was there the last two times you checked. And the time before that.]
'Puffball I swear—'
"Lady Faelyn?"
She turned around.
Kito stood at the edge of the cooking space in his sleeping clothes, hair slightly squashed on one side like he'd been lying down and reconsidered it. He looked at the silver pots, then at her.
"You should be in bed," she said.
"I know." He didn't move. "Is it really happening tomorrow? Actually for real?"
"Actually for real."
