Luna Lyra
The kitchen staff gave me warm smiles as I stepped in.
“Luna,” one of the cooks, Maeve, greeted. “You’re up early.”
“I thought I’d get a head start before Leo wakes up and demands all my attention,” I said, chuckling. “I just want something light. Maybe tea and fruit?”
“Of course. I’ll get it ready for you in a minute.” She moved efficiently, her eyes kind. “You deserve a quiet morning.”
Within minutes, I was sitting at the kitchen island, with a tray in front of me, freshly brewed chamomile tea, cut melons, strawberries, and buttered toast. I took my breakfast quietly.