Marguerite seals up to a warm meal in front of her. No maids are in sight and she wonders where the food came from.
Shrugging her shoulders, she takes a mouthful of the god without thinking too much. Maybe Armel sent it to her.
She puts it in her mouth and freezes. This taste...
It isn't keltcic food. She is sure of it. This taste is familiar...
She takes more and the more she eats the more nostalgic she becomes. How did this dish appear here? Where does it come from. She wants to meet the chef at least once.
"Are you awake?"
As if granting her wishes, Marguerite sees Jurian step into her room with an apron still wrapped around his waist. She widens her eyes in shock. His familiar warm and smiling face makes her heart skip a beat, dangerously.
"Jurian?"
"Yes."
Marguerite stops eating to stare at Jurian in amazement. Why does it appear like he personally cooled for her? Well... It wouldn't be the first time.
