"That part survived beautifully."
They both laughed—quietly at first, then more freely, the sound easing something unseen between them.
For a while they remained there, speaking of ordinary things: how early snow had once trapped half a village road, how Jean had nearly slipped into a river during first frost because she insisted stones were safe to cross, how Salviana used to hide under blankets just to avoid dawn prayers in winter.
Eventually a maid arrived to announce lunch.
They moved indoors together, where warmth gathered in the dining chamber and long windows reflected silver light across polished floors.
Lunch was simple by palace standards—fresh bread still warm from the ovens, herb soup, roasted vegetables glazed lightly with honey, and delicate slices of white fish scented with lemon.
Jean tasted the soup and sighed in approval.
"At least one kingdom understands seasoning."
