Cakes and wine.

Evening sets in, and you join Garnier and Emmanuelle in the parlour for drinks. The Sinnabarrovian royals are off the side, deep in comfortable conversation. Emmanuelle's hand brushes Garnier's knee. You see the handsome prince smile, still oblivious to your presence.

There are even more servants milling around than you'd expected, but Sarah is on hand, and you're confident she can spike the Queen's drink without anyone noticing, granted you provide a distraction.

"Bryce!" Emmanuelle beams at you, raising her cup. "I trust the suite is to your liking?"

"Fit for a king." you tell her, with a wry smile.

Madeleine is around, the young princess causing her nursemaid trouble as ever. You wouldn't trade places with the poor woman for anything.

"Come, sit. Just try not to overindulge, hmm? We're planning to go out on the lake tomorrow morning." Garnier says, offering you a cup of wine. You bring the red wine to your lips, taking a draught. You've always preferred ale, but there's no denying the balanced profile of the Sinnabarrovian vintage.

"Yess!" Madeleine galumphs to a stop before the three of you, punching the air as she hears what her brother just said.

"You should be in bed, ma puce." Emmanuelle titters. "If you stay up until the wee hours yet again, we shan't go."

"But it's so boring!" Madeleine shrieks. The child stomps indignantly. "I'll just lay there. Please maman, please let me stay up a little longer!"

Just as Madeleine is about to protest further, Garnier rises from his seat, scooping the child up in his arms. With the two of them face to face, you see just how pronounced the resemblance between the two is.

"Hey now, I'll read you Vincent of Goldfield if you come along without a fuss." Garnier smiles. Promises of the natural philosopher seem to placate the very young child, and before long, she deigns to be carried from the room by Garnier.

"Mind the lintel!" Emmanuelle calls after them. Acknowledging her words, Garnier ducks his head under the low beam of the door, disappearing quickly out of sight.

"The villa was constructed by a rather diminutive Morlandian duke, several hundred years ago." Emmanuelle explains. "It can make certain doorways a little... hazardous."

"I can only imagine." you remark, knowing full well the danger of lintels. With Garnier and the nursemaid gone, it occurs to you that now might be a good time to make your move.

"This wine, it's simply incredible." you say, draining what's left of your first cup.

"Isn't it just?" the redhead smiles proudly. "I spent a good part of my adolescence at my uncle's vineyard. We really are blessed in our part of the world. Anything the earth provides, Sinnabarrow is doubly abundant with."

"Though I could stand to see a little meat, some game." you admit. You wouldn't have thought it possible, but you were beginning to feel the first gnawings of hunger in your stomach.

"Oh Bryce, I'm so sorry!" Emanuelle exclaims. She puts a hand to her face in mortification. You notice two golden rings shining on two of her fingers. "Our visit to the lake has been so impromptu, the staff haven't had time to prepare a fitting meal. Well there are also my dietary concerns to be aware of. Again, I apologise most profusely."

"I'll live." you tell her.

"I'll hurry the servants along, they'll have something ready for us when we return from our boating trip tomorrow morning." Emmanuelle assures you. Of course, if you did return, you'd have more pressing concerns than a hot meal.

"In the meantime..." Emmanuelle rises from her seat, pads over to the opposite side of the room. You seize on the opportunity. You catch Sarah's eye, and after only a few seconds to ensure the coast is clear, she crosses, pausing for the briefest of spells at the table. Bringing the flask out from her sleeve, she empties the dosage you specified into the Queen's wine. Just like that, she's gone, mere seconds before Emmanuelle returns, bearing a small silver tray.

"These ought to keep you from starving." Emmanuelle beams.

"More cakes?" you scoff.

"My greatest weakness." Emmanuelle concedes. "My lord husband will often protest, say he's not about to be married to a fat cow, but I say there are worse things than a woman with a little meat on her bones, hmmm?"

"There certainly are."

"When I was with child, I craved for almost nothing but these." ever the courteous hostess, Emmanuelle slides the tray over to you. You note a small array of confections. Rounded on one side, the cakes bear the shell-shaped imprint of their baking tin on the other. You have to chuckle. Where you were from, there wasn't a single household that would dare to serve these.

You take one of the madeleines, tear it in half, and pop it into your mouth. Even after several weeks, the richness of the food these royals eats continuously surprises you.

"I must've eaten hundreds of these things during those nine months." Emmanuelle recalls. "When my darling child was born, naming her after them seemed somehow appropriate."

"Hence the name, Madeleine." you reiterate.

"I said to Garnier the other night, it's a lucky thing I took to the madeleines, or she might've been Princess Crêpe!" Emmanuelle titters, tossing back her wine. You're sure Garnier doesn't care how many cakes his mother-in-law eats.

A wave of grateful satisfaction passes through you as she imbibes the spiked beverage without passing comment on it.

You make a little more idle conversation until Garnier returns from putting Madeleine to bed.

"I do apologise for the lack of sustenance, Bryce." Garnier repeats. "We've got to be careful, with Emmanuelle's condition. While it's not well understood, certain foods, flavours, tend to exacerbate her attacks."

"Oui." Emmanuelle says, naturally frustrated. "The egg custards so popular in Copieux, anything flavoured with saffron..."

"And the oysters." Garnier chimes in ruefully.

"Yes. Deanian Oysters. My Garnier always tells me they're divine, but the one time I ate them, I suffered quite the attack."

"Have you ever had the pleasure, Bryce?" Garnier says, fondly recalling past meals. "Difficult to get them without having an axe put through your head, but dieux, You haven't lived until you've tried them."

You actually had tasted Deanian Oysters before. You remembered picking a few outside Fredrikstad with Erika, months ago. The taste, as you'd sat on the edge of the Marburgfjord, inclined you to agree with Garnier. Still, you thought it better to demure, to say nothing. Bryce wasn't quite so well-travelled as yourself.

You talk for maybe half an hour or so, before the three of you decide to turn in. Even as you part ways with Emmanuelle, you notice the Queen beginning to worsen.