Prince Althur POV
Earlier, when Lady Seraphine presented her goods, and yes, that was the word she used, deliberately casual, to my father, my mother, and the assembled nobles who had arrived under the pretense of urgent security concerns, the room shifted in a way no spell ever could.
What should have been an interrogation turned into food tasting. What should have been accusations turned into admiration.
The so-called "chaotic political matter" dissolved into something absurdly human: plates, cups, steam, and hunger.
The nobles, houses that would usually sneer at foreign inventions, leaned forward like children discovering fire. The aroma alone disarmed them. Warm bread. Melted cheese. Spiced oils. And the coffee… gods, the coffee. It smelled like dawn and danger and comfort all at once.
