Milla
Soft footsteps quickly padded down the stairs as Milla rushed to the cellar. "Hey, guys! I've got some leftover dougnats."
She pushed open the door, balancing delicate looking, lemon zest doungats on her hip.
The zesty, sweet scent hit the stagnant air of the cellar, clashing with the metallic smell of the violet lantern.
Milla froze mid-step. Her eyes traveled from Eira's pale, tear-streaked face to the boy slumped against the flour sacks.
The tray in Milla's hand tilted dangerously.
"Eira," Milla whispered, her voice hitching. "That's him. That's the boy from the river."
"I know who he is, Milla," Eira said quietly. She reached out and took the tray before Milla could drop it, setting it on a nearby crate.
Soren looked at the doughnuts, then at Milla. He looked like he wanted to apologize for existing.
"He should stay," Eira said, her voice steady. "He told me what happened. About the light. About my father."
Milla wiped her floury hands on her apron. "Eira, there are Wardens in my garden! If they find out we're harbouring the person who 'killed' Master Elian, they'll tear this bakery down. They loved your father. He was the heart of this place."
"He's not a murderer, Milla. He's a witness," Eira replied, looking at Soren with a blank expression. "And he's the only map I have to get my father back."
Milla's eyes then drifted to the back corner of the cellar, where six massive, fifty-pound sacks of winter wheat sat waiting to be hauled up to the kitchen.
"Fine," Milla whispered. "He can stay. But he has to work. He hauls the flour, he splits the cedar, and he stays away from the windows."
Soren looked up, disbelief clouding his dark eyes. He stared hungrily at the tray of doughnuts. Milla saw the hollows in his cheeks and the way his stomach audibly gurgled in the quiet room. A faint, reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
"You can take one. You'll need the sugar if you're moving those sacks by sunrise… uh-"
"Soren." He said, reaching out and taking one of the lemon-zest doughnuts. He held the golden pastry like it was a piece of rare gold, the citrus scent making his eyes water. "Thank you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I'll do whatever you need."