"Then come with me. You're about to taste something you'll never forget."
They both stepped out, leaving their maids and guards behind at Alaric's request.
The streets of Wyfkeep were buzzing as they rode into the heart of the city. Alaric, draped in his dark cloak with his arm resting casually around Salviana's waist, drew eyes as always—his presence sharp and commanding, making space wherever he went. But Salviana, her hair still pinned up to reveal the graceful line of her neck, seemed to be all he saw.
When they finally arrived, she gasped. The restaurant stood like a grand jewel in the middle of the street—a massive glass-walled building glowing warmly with candlelight. The sign above read "The Golden Crumble" in elegant cursive, and through the windows, Salviana caught glimpses of tables stacked high with delicate pastries, cakes, and every sort of sweet imaginable.
"Alaric… this place is…" she trailed off, her eyes wide.
