Mara had brewed the fifth version.
It was not the fourth attempt. It was not merely the adequate highland substitute with the elevation problem partially resolved. The rich, spiced aroma drifting through the kitchen belonged undeniably to the fifth iteration. It was the flawless batch that had taken three painstaking attempts and required a very specific root from the lower district's eastern merchant row.
Mara set the steaming ceramic pot in the center of the wooden table. She did not announce what she had done. She simply poured the dark liquid into their cups and stepped back toward the counter. It was how Mara did everything that actually mattered.
Valerica noticed the scent immediately. She wrapped her fingers around her warm cup, brought it close to her face, and looked across the kitchen at Mara.
"You made the fifth version," Valerica noted.
"Yes," Mara replied softly.
"Today specifically."
"Yes."
