It was almost time to serve dessert, and the hall had grown very quiet.
After the announcement and the first plating, Marron had retreated inside the kitchen, checking each plate before it went out into the dining room. And for a feast in full swing, she half-expected the conversation outside to be lively and animated.
Instead, it was full of hushed whispers and the clink of forks and knives against plates.
Her curiosity had grown too much to ignore. She double-checked her sous chefs' plating before pushing the kitchen door open a crack and took a peek.
Conversations faltered mid-sentence, laughter dimmed to a careful hush, and every set of eyes seemed to follow the invisible thread stretching between the Snake Queen and the Lord Jackal.
Everyone noticed, except the royal queen and lord themselves.
Or, it felt that way, at least.
The Queen sat tall, golden coils arranged in perfect loops beneath the table, her jeweled crown catching the candlelight. The Lord Jackal's broad shoulders were squared, dark violet eyes locked with hers, unreadable.
Everyone tried not to speak. The servants went around refilling goblets, but when the closer they got to the Queen and the Lord Jackal's table, they hesitated.
Like they knew one wrong sound could ruin the moment. It was like the air was heavy with heat and thunder, seconds before a summer storm would break.
Seated at their own little table, Lucy pressed closer against Mokko's elbow. Mokko's gaze flicked between the two rulers, his ear twitching toward the smallest movements.
The entire table was waiting on what they would do or say next.
A wolfkin merchant leaned toward his companion and whispered, "Do you think—"
"Shh," the other hissed.
The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on the stem of her glass. The Lord Jackal inclined his head—just a fraction.
And still, they said nothing.
The tension was thinner than a mozzarella cheese pull.
And then a young maid ran past Marron, cheeks pink from the kitchen heat. The kitchen doors opened with an unceremonious bang.
"Ah—sorry, Your Majesties! Does anyone… want some tea? Or perhaps… experimental desserts?"
She heard the awkward laughter and the sound of agreement, and the party chatter slowly increased in volume. After hearing that, Marron looked at her brigade once more.
Experimental desserts had been on the menu, but were more of an afterthought. She enjoyed coming up with dishes on the spot. Her four sous chefs, unfortunately, did not agree. She saw snake and wolfkin with pale faces, and realized: she never really taught them what the components of the dessert platter was.
Oops. To be fair, I thought experimental was uh...self-explanatory. She'd just assumed that they would do their own thing, after three courses of being told what to serve and how to serve it.
"Chef," Marina blurted, "we—we don't know what an experimental dessert platter is, can you teach us, please?"
Marron smiled and reassured her. "Sorry. I made the dessert plates experimental so you could also make the deserts you wanted instead of just following my menu."
Clearly though, they were better at executing instruction than being whimsical. They looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
"But...chef, we're here to execute your menu. To support you." One of the wolfkin explained. "We only get promoted to head chef once we've done that."
Ah.
Marron began moving toward her station, pulling down a jar of pale sugar and a small vial of rose extract. "If you still want to help me, one of the things I'll be making to serve are rose meringues."
The sous chefs exchanged puzzled looks.
"Rose… what?" the wolfkin sous chef asked.
"You'll see."
Marron set to work, whipping egg whites until they gleamed, the whisk clicking softly against the bowl. She folded in fine sugar in slow, measured intervals, watching the mixture turn glossy and hold its shape. A drop of rose extract went in last, the perfume blooming into the air—floral, sweet, and faintly mysterious.
"Like spun silk," Marina murmured as Marron piped the mixture into delicate spirals on a baking tray. "Mmhm. Where I'm from, they call it meringue cookies."
She brought the tray into the oven, and everyone watched as the cookies slowly puffed up.
"They'll be crisp on the outside, soft and chewy inside," Marron explained. "And they'll carry the scent of a summer garden into the hall."
"Even in the middle of a feast, we're still learning something new," Marina whispered. "That's pretty amazing of you, Chef Marron."
The two wolfkin nodded in clear agreement, their tails swishing. "I'm so glad I agreed to come to this feast!"
+
By the time the first trays of rose meringues left the kitchen, the gray skies had grown even darker, and the windows rattled faintly against the wind. It looked like there was going to be a light storm after all.
But inside the hall, the air lightened, especially as the gentle smell of roses drifted in ahead of the plates.
If the guests enjoyed the dish, Marron would have them plated with more treats. She walked out of the kitchen, to the head of the table. "Hello everyone. These are rose meringue cookies, part of the experimental desserts. If you like them, we'll serve them for tonight's sweet course."
Guests turned their heads, murmuring. A merchant from Whisperwind reached for one immediately, inhaled the fragrance, and smiled. Across the table, a Snakewater matron bit into hers and let out a pleased hum.
The maids moved gracefully between tables, offering tea to pair with the floral sweetness. Marron could see the way shoulders lowered, conversation threads reconnecting where there had been awkward silences.
Near the high table, the Queen accepted a meringue with a slight tilt of her head. Her golden eyes flicked to the Lord Jackal, who was just finishing one himself, crumbs clinging to his gloved fingers.
He leaned toward her—not so close as to be improper, but enough for his words to be meant only for her."I wish your great-grandmother…" He paused, a faint smile touching his mouth. "Well, I won't spoil a good night."
The Queen's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. More like amusement. She took another bite, the rose scent clinging to her lips."Your grandfather wasn't wrong, either. But I agree." She let the words hang between them for a heartbeat before adding, softly, "This is already a big step for both of our people."
Marron had already turned her head and started walking back into the kitchen, so she couldn't hear what else they were saying. But she looked back before she walked inside. For a split second, she saw the shift in their expressions.
It was more than just diplomatic civility--it was something warmer, and more human.
She didn't doubt the human dignitaries were surprised and pleased as well.
The roses had done more than simply sweeten the table.
+
"All right, one last batch of meringues and we'll have finished the first sweet course!"
Marron decided to make the last plate of rose meringues herself so that her sous chefs could rest. When they came out of the oven, she carried it herself to the high table.
The rulers' conversation fell into a low murmur as she approached, but she still caught a thread of the Lord Jackal's voice.
"…not since the day they drove you out. I thought we'd never share a table again."
The Queen's hand stilled on her teacup. Marron set the plate down, bowing lightly before stepping back. She didn't mean to linger—but her feet refused to move.
"You don't know everything about that day," the Queen said at last, her tone velvet over steel.
The Lord Jackal's jaw tightened. "Then tell me."
A long pause. The clink of porcelain as she set down her cup. Her golden eyes flicked to him—not cold, but deep with something Marron couldn't name.
"I will," she said. "But not here. And not while the wrong ears can listen."
She glanced once, deliberately, toward Marron.
Marron's breath caught.
I-is it too personal for me?!