The east garden looked nothing like the rest of the castle.
There, the darkness seemed to soften, and the air carried an ancient perfume, a mixture of lavender, honey, and damp earth. The treetops filtered the midday light, letting golden flecks fall and dance across the white tablecloth spread on the ground, as if the sun was entertaining itself playing with them.
An open wicker basket revealed freshly baked bread, still warm, covered with embroidered napkins; bunches of grapes, strawberries, and ripe peaches that shone like gems in the light; crystal glasses filled with rosé wine reflecting ruby glimmers. Even the flowers decorating the picnic—pale roses and enchanted jasmines—seemed to emit a subtle glow, as if they breathed magic.
