It was almost ti to serve dessert, and the hall had grown very quiet.
After the announcent 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 dimd to a careful hush, and every set of eyes seed 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 mont. It was like the air was heavy with heat and thunder, seconds before a sumr 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 movents.
The entire table was waiting on what they would do or say next.
A wolfkin rchant 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 so tea? Or perhaps... experintal desserts?"
She heard the awkward laughter and the sound of agreent, and the party chatter slowly increased in volu. After hearing that, Marron looked at her brigade once more.
Experintal desserts had been on the nu, 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 experintal was uh...self-explanatory. She’d just assud 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 experintal dessert platter is, can you teach us, please?"
Marron smiled and reassured her. "Sorry. I made the dessert plates experintal so you could also make the deserts you wanted instead of just following my nu."
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 nu. 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 , one of the things I’ll be making to serve are rose ringues."
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 glead, the whisk clicking softly against the bowl. She folded in fine sugar in slow, asured intervals, watching the mixture turn glossy and hold its shape. A drop of rose extract went in last, the perfu 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 ringue 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 sumr garden into the hall."
"Even in the middle of a feast, we’re still learning sothing new," Marina whispered. "That’s pretty amazing of you, Chef Marron."
The two wolfkin nodded in clear agreent, their tails swishing. "I’m so glad I agreed to co to this feast!"
By the ti the first trays of rose ringues 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 sll 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 ringue cookies, part of the experintal desserts. If you like them, we’ll serve them for tonight’s sweet course."
Guests turned their heads, murmuring. A rchant from Whisperwind reached for one imdiately, 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 ringue 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 ant 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 amusent. 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 sothing warr, 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 ringues and we’ll have finished the first sweet course!"
Marron decided to make the last plate of rose ringues herself so that her sous chefs could rest. When they ca 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 an 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 ."
A long pause. The clink of porcelain as she set down her cup. Her golden eyes flicked to him—not cold, but deep with sothing Marron couldn’t na.
"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 ?!
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