Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance
Chapter 185: I HATE HONEY

Chapter 185: I HATE HONEY

"Are we done yet?" Serena asked, barely audible over the chatter of workers and the clatter of wagons being loaded.

Livia cast her a sidelong glance and shook her head. "Does it look like we are done?"

Serena sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Most of the revelers had long since wandered off, guided home by the call of soft beds or stronger drinks, but the square still buzzed with the lingering hum of activity. Some villagers were still seated on overturned crates, swapping stories with their neighbors as children darted between empty tables. Workers bustled around them, packing linens, sweeping away debris, and collecting the last of the untouched platters.

Serena leaned her weight onto one leg and rubbed the back of her neck. She hadn’t expected to still be here. She had imagined the evening ending with the dancing, or perhaps the quiet retreat to her room with a warm drink. But Livia had tugged her into the post-feast cleanup without so much as a warning.

A broom was shoved into her hands earlier. Right now, she had no idea where it had gone now. It was probably stolen by another pair of tired hands. Not that she was complaining.

"Do you think council work is some kind of glory parade?" Livia asked suddenly, startling Serena out of her thoughts.

Serena blinked at her. "What?"

Livia’s arms were crossed, her eyes were narrowed but not unkind. "You keep looking like someone tied you to a post and forced you to watch paint dry. Do you think being part of this council is easy?"

Serena bristled but bit back her retort. She could feel the sting in the words, not cruel but direct, Livia’s usual flavour. "I never said that," she said flatly.

"You did not have to," Livia replied.

Serena turned away and crouched beside one of the wooden benches, gathering up scattered ribbons and a few broken trinkets left behind by children. Her movements were methodical, fingers brushing over the grass and packed dirt. She sighed and glanced at Livia.

"I know it is not easy," she said quietly. "I did not come here expecting a feast and roses."

"Then stop acting like you are surprised when the work drags further into the night," Livia said, but her tone lacked its earlier bite.

They worked in silence for a while, the moon climbing higher into the sky. One of the stable boys passed with a cart, humming a soft tune under his breath. The fire in the main pit was no longer roaring, just soft orange coals nestled in ash.

Serena stood again and dusted her hands on her dress, peering toward the far edge of the square. "Is there a reason you are still here?" she asked.

Livia raised an eyebrow. "Someone has to supervise. And I hardly sleep very well after gatherings like this."

Serena hummed noncommittally. She understood her words. There was always a strange weight after nights like this. It was more like

As she turned to help fold one of the longer tables, she caught Livia wrinkling her nose, her upper lip curled in faint disgust.

"What’s that look for?" Serena asked, straightening.

Livia turned slightly and sniffed again. "Someone’s spilled honey on one of the barrels."

Serena blinked. "And?"

"I hate honey," Livia said flatly.

Serena stared. "You... hate honey?"

"Yes."

"You’re joking."

"Why would I joke about that?"

"It’s honey, Livia. It’s sweet and golden and–"

"Sticky," Livia interrupted, scowling at the oozing patch glistening on the barrel’s side. "And it attracts ants. I had a cousin who got stung by twenty bees because someone left a jar open near his boots. I’ve hated the sweet and golden thing ever since."

Serena couldn’t help it, she laughed.

Livia glared. "It is not funny."

"It is, actually," Serena said, biting her lip. "You have faced down council squabbles, rogue threats, and economic disasters, but the sticky wrath of a honey jar brings you to your knees?"

Livia muttered something under her breath and found a cloth to wipe the mess away. "You are lucky I’m too tired to argue."

They continued working in a more comfortable quiet. Serena found herself stealing a few glances at Livia, wondering how many more strange confessions the woman carried. It was easier now. Not exactly warm between them, but warmer than before.

Eventually, the last table was folded, the lanterns dimmed, and the square returned to something close to stillness. A handful of villagers lingered to chat with the guards, but the real heart of the evening had faded.

Livia dusted off her hands and exhaled. "That is the last of it."

Serena rolled her shoulders. "Finally."

Livia raised a brow. "Do not celebrate yet. We still have to ride back."

Serena groaned but followed her toward the horses that waited a short walk down the road, their coats glinting under the moonlight. A stablehand handed them the reins.

The ride back to the castle was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind in the trees. The stars were especially bright tonight, a sprinkle of silver dust across the ink-dark sky. Serena inhaled deeply. The air in Ironshade always smelled of pine and something older, and wilder.

"Despite your dramatics," Livia said after a long stretch of silence, "you did well tonight."

Serena blinked at her. "Was that a compliment?"

"It was what it was."

A smile tugged at Serena’s lips. "Thank you."

Livia said nothing more, but Serena didn’t mind. They rode the rest of the way side by side, the castle lights growing larger in the distance. The road was gentle, the kind that lulled tension from the bones.

It had been a long day, filled with laughter, stumbles, strange dances, and one too many bees, metaphorical or otherwise.

But somewhere between the honey and the quiet, Serena felt something shift. Not just in her, but in the space between her and the world she was slowly becoming part of. And it did feel nice.

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