4 The Warmth of a Meal

When I was still small, the whole family would go on a walk around the garden. I was holding hands with Eric, who was my brother and two years ahead of me. He energetically led me everywhere to take a look, never letting go of my hand. When my little feet couldn't keep up anymore, I would get picked up by Papa and rest in his arms. His shoulders were big and very comfortable. He never got tired of holding me and always declined to let the guard take me. To him, carrying me was never deemed as a burden. When we arrived at the pavilion, Mama would read to us, and I would fall asleep in Father's embrace. This was something I didn't know I missed until I went through it again.

Wait. Why does this dream felt so real? Those big shoulders were very comfy, even though sometimes the Epaulette would prickle and make me squirm, he would then adjust our position so I could stay comfy in his arms. But somehow I remembered that Papa didn't wear his uniform when we strolled through the garden, how come his Epaulettes are now in the way?

"You should have changed before you came in." I heard a woman whispers.

"I didn't think it would matter..." Papa's distressed voice drifted past my ears. Didn't he seem to be very close?

Wait, wasn't this a dream?

I jolted my eyes open in horror. Unbeknownst to me when or how it happened but I was still clinging on to Father and had been in his arms all this time. I must have fallen asleep while crying and being patted softly. How embarrassing! I wanted to cry, but my eyes finally ran dry from all the whining.

"Are you awake?" Mother seemed to be the first one to notice. I just nodded slightly, still unable to find words to express my inner sorrow. Father loosened his embrace, but he didn't push me away, and I couldn't see his face, but now that I'm awake, I swear I could hear his heartbeat going a little bit faster. He must have been as embarrassed as I was.

When I had rushed into his arms, Papa moved from the stool onto the bed and ever since then, I had been using him as an armrest. I wondered as to how long he had been silently endured me. He could have put me down quickly, but he was probably considerate and didn't want to wake me up. This man's patience was as strong as his love for his family.

I carefully got down from him so he could get up. His uniform was a little bit crumpled and wrinkled, and he seemed somewhat stiff at first but didn't seem to mind it. Neither of us said anything at all while Mother just smiled and reminded: "Both of you get a change and come down, dinner will be served in an hour."

After both of them left, two maids came in and helped me by preparing a hot bath. Meanwhile, I began to study the rooms, the furniture and the decorations bit by bit. Everything was high-class and in perfect harmony, and even though it lacked the comfort of modern gadgets such as computers or household utilities, the extra care those maids brought upon me made life easy to bear. If there was something that I missed, it was my cellphone. I caught myself wanting to check the time, messages, googling for things I didn't understand. Sadly the dress didn't even have pockets, much less a phone.

Well, thank God this place got tap water. It is kind of a mystery as to how everything works when the collective knowledge here is about that of middle schoolers, but somehow they managed. Again, my superficial ability to do research as a newbie author was to blame. I didn't do the necessary background checks back then. I just added the pieces of information that were convenient to ease my script and useful things that would help the story go on. The rest was just a given.

This kingdom was placed into a European setting, but many facts had been omitted, plenty of unrealistic things were just added out of convenience without proper historical knowledge. This place had no historical precedence or whatsoever, and all the more in-depth world building was left to itself and the fantasy. It is an entirely fictional world, and if not for inheriting Dahlia's memories, I would also be at a loss at this whole worlds settings. Part of me felt yet another point of regret. If I had known beforehand about me ending up here, I would've added magical features and many more cheats that would've made life even more exhilarating. Don't talk about tap water or stoves - magic is the answer to everything!

But compared with being stuck in a more realistic environment, I was much more comfortable with my current circumstances. Being a young noble girl who got her engagement broken still has it a lot easier than an unloved concubine or wife who was put into the cold palace. I got transferred just in time, Dahlia had done nothing wrong yet but was wronged instead by her fiancé who fell in love with another woman. If I can play her cards right, it will be so much easier to change the outcome of the story; I was sure of that.

As my mood got better and better, I started to hum a happy tune while taking a bath in rose petals and essential oils. This kind of lavish indulgence, I think I can get used to it. Of course, before the maids reentered, I switched to a sombre face befitting of a heartbroken person.

As I headed into the dining room, I had put on a comfortable lavender dress, and my hair was collected loosely in the back. Since I didn't want to worry father and mother any more, I showed neither discomfort nor sadness when I joined them at the table, but to the rest of the world, I'll need to put on the mask of a wronged beauty who was put into dismal by her fiancé whom she loved wholeheartedly from now on.

By the way, the food was extraordinary. I had never had a meal as sumptuous as this before. Mother had greeted me with the words "You haven't had a meal in a while, so we asked the chef to make all of your favourites." The emphasis lies on 'all'. The table was covered with a wide variety of dishes, from aperitifs to desserts. No wonder I had the leisure time to take a bath and even stroll around in the first place. The kitchen must have been busy an entire day at least.

Personally, I couldn't recall or name at least half of the dishes, but Dahlia had remembered them all, some of those were her recent favourites, some were seasonal, and there were even some from her childhood which she had almost forgotten. Even though Mother didn't cook herself, she knew exactly what her children had taken a liking to and what not.

I started with the Hors-d'oeuvre. Mother and Father had been looking at me expectantly, but after my first bite, Mother reminded worriedly: "You don't have to force yourself to eat if you don't feel like it."

Dear Mother, don't get me wrong, I didn't get rigid because I was forcing myself to swallow the food but stopping myself from losing control and start to binge-eat everything like the dirt poor person that I was before. This was Haute Cuisine!! The authentic one. Everything from aesthetics to culinary experience was perfect, a 12 out of ten. I had been taken to a fancy three stars restaurant once before by the publishing company, but that hotel's menu couldn't be compared to the meal of a real Duke's household, who is second only to the Royal Family's.

"It is marvellous. I feel like this is the best meal I've had... So delicious that my eyes are a little bit teary." I mumbled and received pitying looks in return, not only from the Duke and Duchess but also from the servants surrounding us. It was a white lie. It is best to stick as close to the truth as possible. Telling a lie requires talent and should be an art in itself. That's why the most solid fabrications were built on the fundament of reality. The reason why most lies were eventually revealed sooner or later is that most people pulled them out of thin air. To me, indeed, I have never had a meal as delicious as this before and really wanted to shed tears of joy. The melancholy was because I had to think about my real parents. I wished I could also share such a meal with the two of them. Mom and Dad would surely enjoy such a feast. If I somehow made it back, I'll make sure to take the time to bring them out for a proper meal.

To the eye of the spectator, it must have looked like I found it hard to swallow. But contrary to their beliefs, I just struggled to decide what to eat next, because I wanted to try everything, but that was out of the question. No matter how hungry I was, this amount of food would never fit in, and it would break etiquette to pick a little bit of everything. As if seeing through my dilemma, Henri said: "If there is something you'd like to eat, just tell the kitchen to make it next time." Which means I can try them all. I nodded earnestly and concentrated on the food.

Before we could end the meal in harmony, the head butler entered. He handed Father a white envelope with golden rims. "The Royal Family, Your Grace."

After Father broke the seal and skimmed through the letter, he put it back on the cushioned silver plate.

"Send word that we will be there."

"Certainly, Sir."

Father received my questioning stare and explained nonchalantly: "Tomorrow, you and I have been summoned to the palace."