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She bursts out laughing.

The sound fills the little kitchen.

Warm.

Bright.

Completely unguarded.

I have heard the screams of dying men and the thunder of collapsing mountains. I have listened to the prayers of thousands, each begging for vengeance against those who wronged them.

But I have never heard anything I wish to hear again quite so badly.

I would endure another three thousand years in stone for the promise of that laughter at the end.

Although I would prefer not to.

The stone was terribly uncomfortable.

“You’re doing it again,” she says.

“What?”

“Smiling.”

I straighten my mouth.

“Another spasm.”

“Must be a serious medical condition.”

“Perhaps you should examine me.”

Her gaze drops to my chest.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Too late, little flower.”

She shakes her head and turns back to the pan.

“Sit down, Your Wrathfulness. Breakfast is almost ready.”

I approach the small table beside the window.

Two plates wait upon it.

Two cups.

A little vase containing a single yellow rose.

I study the arrangement.

“You prepared food for me?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to eat in front of you.”

“I do not require nourishment.”