Arianne swept in with an apologetic smile, the hem of her travel cloak still dusty. "I came without warning. I apologize."
Michael glanced over the spread and nodded once. "It's fine, Princess. It is our pleasure to enjoy a meal with you."
The maids hovered at the edge of the room, waiting. Michael sampled a grape, then one of the baked pies. He set his plate down, satisfied. "You all may excuse us now."
The maids bowed and quietly withdrew, their soft steps fading into the hall.
Michael turned his gaze toward Arianne. "Princess, eat with me," he said.
Taking one of the baked pies, Arianne bit into it delicately, then reached for a grape and chewed thoughtfully.
"It's good," she said at last, her eyes flicking toward the table. "The flavor's pleasant, simple but warm. The herbs are a bit sharp, though. Still…" she smiled faintly, "they don't hold the novelty of Lord Michael's homeland chocolate."
Michael blinked once, his expression unreadable. "Chocolate?"
