Rhea's stirring slowed.
Mira's tone stayed sweet. Surgical. "She said I should remind you to eat properly. You forget when you're busy."
Ling's jaw tightened almost invisibly. "You didn't need to pass that on."
Mira laughed softly. "Of course I did. She always trusts me."
That did it.
Rhea turned.
Slow. Deliberate.
Her eyes raked over Mira, unimpressed, then flicked to where she was positioned, too close, too familiar.
"Is there a reason you're hovering?" Rhea asked coolly. "Or do you just like blocking oxygen? I think you are in group too."
Mira's smile stiffened. "I'm helping."
"With what?" Rhea tilted her head. "Emotional support? This is cooking, not adoption."
Ling exhaled sharply through his nose.
Mira straightened, wounded but composed. "You wouldn't understand our dynamic."
Rhea smiled, sharp, unapologetic. "I understand plenty. You talk. He decides."
Ling glanced at Rhea, warning, restrained.
Rhea ignored it.
Mira's voice tightened. "Ling and I go way back. His family knows me. His mother likes me."
Rhea stepped closer to the fire, heat kissing her legs, eyes never leaving Mira.
"Congratulations," she said lazily. "I'm sure approval tastes great when you don't have substance."
Mira flushed. "You don't belong in his life."
The words slipped out before Mira could stop them.
Silence snapped tight.
Rhea laughed. Not loud. Not pretty.
"Oh?" she said softly. "And you do?"
Mira lifted her chin. "I've earned my place."
Rhea's gaze flicked to Ling briefly, just long enough to see the tension there.
Then she turned back to Mira.
"Funny," Rhea said. "I didn't realize positions were inherited now."
Ling finally intervened. "Enough."
Rhea didn't look at him. "Relax, Captain Control. I'm not applying."
Mira's eyes stung. "You're just here to provoke."
Rhea leaned closer, voice low, cutting. "And you're just here because he hasn't told you to leave."
Ling's voice dropped dangerously. "Rhea."
Rhea straightened, grabbing the ladle again. "What? I'm cooking. Since I apparently don't belong anywhere else."
She stirred, movements sharp.
Inside, something ached.
Because Mira's words hit where Rhea pretended nothing lived.
The fire crackled between them, smoke rising, lines drawn, egos colliding.
Rhea noticed it immediately. Mira's hand, light, almost careless, hooked around Ling's arm again as Zifa crouched beside the pot. Too familiar. Too practiced. Like she was reminding everyone where she belonged.
Rhea didn't react at first.
She kept stirring, face blank, movements precise. Control, she reminded herself. Control was not reacting.
Ling didn't shake Mira off.
He didn't lean in either.
He simply allowed it.
That's worse.
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"Zifa," Rhea said suddenly, not looking up. "Come here."
Zifa blinked. "Me?"
"Yes," Rhea replied coolly. "You're cutting vegetables wrong. If you keep going like that, we'll eat charcoal."
Zifa scrambled up and joined her, relieved for an excuse to move away from the tension.
Rhea lowered her voice, efficient, commanding. "I'll handle the chopping. You'll manage the fire."
Zifa nodded quickly. "Okay."
Mira watched this small reorganization with narrowed eyes.
Rhea turned to her then, slow, deliberate.
"Mira," she said sweetly, too sweet. "Since you're free."
Mira straightened. "I'm helping Ling."
Rhea tilted her head, eyes glinting. "He doesn't need emotional supervision. We do need coriander roots."
Mira frowned. "They gave us powder."
"And fresh ones grow near the stream," Rhea replied smoothly. "Far side. Past the fallen log."
Ling looked up sharply. "Rhea..."
Rhea cut him a glance. "Unless you want bland food."
Ling paused.
Then, flatly, "Go."
Mira stiffened. "Ling..."
"Go," Ling repeated. Not unkind. Not negotiable.
Mira forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Fine. I'll be back."
She turned and walked away, steps sharp, shoulders tense.
Rhea watched her go, satisfaction curling dark and quiet in her chest. Only then did she turn back to the fire and smile.
Ling studied her for a moment longer than necessary. "That was intentional," Ling said.
Rhea didn't deny it. "She likes clinging."
Ling's mouth twitched despite himself. "You like assigning."
Rhea met his gaze, eyes cool, proud. "I like order."
Zifa pretended very hard not to exist between them.
The fire crackled.
For a brief, dangerous moment, it felt almost… balanced.
Then Rhea's eyes drifted, just once, to the path Mira disappeared down.
Something sharp flickered there.
Not jealousy, she told herself.
Just irritation.
After a while, Mira returned breathless, hair slightly disheveled, irritation written plainly across her face.
"There's nothing there," she said sharply, stopping near the fire. "No coriander. Nothing."
Rhea didn't look up.
She tasted the food, thoughtful, then hummed softly. "Oh."
Mira stiffened. "Oh?"
Rhea turned slowly, spoon in hand, eyes cool and unapologetic. "I must have been mistaken."
The words landed gently.
Too gently.
Mira's eyes widened. "If you weren't sure," she demanded, "why did you send me?"
The camp seemed to quiet, like even the fire was listening.
Rhea lifted one brow. "Because someone needed to go."
Mira flushed. "You did it on purpose."
Rhea smiled faintly. Not cruel. Worse, calm. "Did I?"
Ling looked up then, gaze sharp. "Rhea."
Rhea met his eyes, unbothered. "What? We're improvising. Jungle cooking."
Mira's hands clenched at her sides. "You don't get to order me around."
Rhea stepped closer, voice low, precise. "Then don't cling to people who don't need you."
Zifa choked on air.
Ling's jaw tightened, but he didn't contradict Rhea.
That silence cut deeper than words.
Mira swallowed hard. "Ling..."
Ling didn't look at her. "Sit. We're almost done."
Mira's face drained.
Rhea turned back to the pot like the matter was settled, stirring with elegant control.
Inside, something sharp and unstable hummed.
Why did that feel good? she wondered briefly, then pushed the thought away.
The fire crackled.
The food thickened.
And Mira learned, painfully, that Rhea Noir didn't need permission to rearrange space.
She simply took it.
>>>>>>
The food was finally ready.
Steam rose thick and fragrant from the pot, curling into the damp jungle air. Rhea wiped her hands on a cloth, posture straight, expression unreadable.
She scooped a spoonful and held it out, not to the group.
To Ling.
"Taste," Rhea said, neutral. Commanding.
Ling looked at her for half a second.
Then, calmly, "Okay."
He took the spoon.
Zifa watched, holding her breath.
Ling tasted.
His expression didn't change.
"It's good," Ling said evenly, passing the spoon back.
Rhea nodded once, satisfied, then turned to Zifa. "You."
Zifa took a cautious bite. Her eyes widened, just a fraction.
She swallowed quickly, glancing between Ling and Rhea.
"It's…," Zifa said.