The winter deepened over the estate as days grew shorter and the nights stretched even longer. Snow fell in thick sheets that buried the gardens.

  It had been two weeks since I found the vault behind the library wall.

  For the past few days, I have simply followed the house's regimen. I still woke before dawn to run through my conditioning drills, but they were merely maintenance.

  I have been reflecting on how much my life has changed since I awakened Seraphina.

  From the moment I woke up here, I have been suspicious of everyone around me. While that is partly due to Seraphina's memories, it seems I may have misjudged the people in this household.

  I wonder... should I simply live without worry?

  Days past quietly

  I knew which floorboards in the east wing creaked under the weight of a footstep. I knew that the third guard on the morning rotation always sneaked a piece of bread from the pantry before his shift. I knew that Marin hummed off-key when she was folding laundry.

  I was learning the rhythm of the house. In a way I was becoming part of it.

  One morning, I sat by the window in the solar while Marin brushed my hair. Outside, the world lay buried under three feet of snow, with soldiers desperately struggling to clear paths.

  Marin was humming again. It was a slow and melancholic hum that resembles an old lullaby.

  "What are you humming, Marin?" I asked.

  Marin paused, meeting my gaze in the window's reflection

  "Just an old winter ballad, my lady. About the frost giants sleeping in the mountains. My grandmother used to sing it around the Solstice."

  "Solstice" I repeated.

  "Yes. The longest night of the year."

  She went back to brushing. I looked out at the snow outside.

  Solstice.

  But there were no lights strung up in the windows. No trees being dragged inside to be decorated. No carols about peace on earth.

  There was no Christmas here..

  Father Mikhail.

  This world has no Christmas. It feels empty...

  I closed my eyes, remembering the food situation we had. Although the chefs here are very proficient, they are still limited by the knowledge of this era. Maybe I can do something.

  I opened my eyes.

  "Marin" I said, standing up. "I am going to the kitchen."

  "The kitchen, my lady?" She frowned. "What for? I can bring you anything you need."

  "No. I have an idea."

  The kitchen was a cavernous room filled with steam and noise, servants moved between the massive fireside carrying trays and pots and the air smelled of roast meat and seasonings.

  Mistress Helga stood near the pantry door with her two muscular maids. She stopped when she saw me.

  "Lady Seraphina" she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "You should not be down here."

  "I know. I want to help." I said

  The head cook turned from his station. He was a large man with forearms like hams. He looked at me with amusement.

  "Help, my lady? With what?"

  "The Solstice is coming and everyone is working hard. The rations are strict, and the mood is low."

  I looked at the ingredients laid out on the prep table. Turnips. Potatoes. A few sad-looking onions. Bones from yesterday's roast.

  "I want to make a meal for the staff."

  Helga raised an eyebrow. "We have very little to spare, my lady. We cannot use good meat or fresh flour. The Duke has given strict orders."

  "I do not need good meat" I said. "I need bones. I need stale bread. I need the vegetables that are starting to go soft."

  The cook laughed. "You want to feed the house with garbage?"

  "No" I said. "I want to show you how to stretch what we have."

  I picked up a stale loaf of bread. It was hard as a rock.

  "If you soak this in broth and layer it with onions and cheese, it becomes soft and rich. If you roast the bones before you boil them, the stock becomes darker and more flavorful. If you toast the barley in a dry pan before adding water, it tastes like nuts."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I looked at them. "It is just chemistry. Heat plus time equals flavor."

  Helga and the cook exchanged a look.

  "Let her try" Helga said finally. "If she ruins it, the dogs will eat well tonight."

  I tied an apron over my dress and rolled up my sleeves.

  I went to work. I may not have my precise modern equipment. But I had hands that knew how to cut.

  I chopped onions. I diced carrots. I stripped the last bits of meat from the bones.

  I directed the scullery maids. "Roast these bones until they are brown. Not grey, brown. We want the fond on the bottom of the pan."

  I showed them how to caramelize the onions slowly until they were a deep, sweet jam. I showed them how to layer the stale bread in a deep dish, soaking each layer in the rich bone broth before topping it with a scattering of hard cheese.

  The kitchen quieted down as the smells began to rise. It was not the smell of boiled cabbage and plain porridge. It was a deep, savory aroma that filled the room and made mouths water.

  The cook came over to inspect the pot of stew. He dipped a spoon in and tasted it. His eyes widened.

  "The barley" he muttered. "You toasted the barley."

  "Yes, It adds depth and texture." I said

  He looked at me with new respect. "Where did a noble girl learn to cook like a starving soldier?"

  "I read a lot of books" I said smoothly. It was the perfect cover.

  By evening, the food was ready.

  We set up a long table in the servants' hall. It was usually an austere place where the staff ate quickly and quietly. Tonight, I had asked Marin to bring down a few candles. The golden light reflected off the wooden table, softening the stone walls.

  The staff began to file in. Maids. Footmen. Stable boys. They looked tired and cold, but their eyes lit up when they smelled the food.

  I stood at the head of the table. "Please sit."

  They hesitated, looking at Helga for permission.

  "Sit" she barked. "Before it gets cold."

  They sat, benches scraping against the stone floor.

  "I wanted to thank everyone" I said, my voice small in the large room. "For taking care of my family. And for working so hard through the winter. It is not much. But I helped make it and I hope you all like it."

  They began to serve themselves.

  The stew was thick, while the savory bread pudding was rich and filling. I made sure to prepare the food to be warm and comforting for the season, and made sure it was crafted in a way still possible in this world

  The room filled with the sounds of eating. Spoons clinking against bowls and satisfied sighs.

  "This is good" a stable boy said with his mouth full. "Really good."

  "And the bread1" a maid whispered. "It melts in your mouth."

  "How did you do this, my lady?" Marin asked, looking at her bowl with wonder. "It is just leftovers."

  "Magic" I said with a small smile.

  Laughter rippled through the room. It was a genuine sound. It was not the polite tittering of the court. It was the sound of people who were warm and fed and happy for a moment.

  I sat down and ate a small bowl of stew. It tasted like home.

  The door at the far end of the hall opened.

  The laughter died instantly. Spoons lowered. Heads turned.

  The Duchess stood in the doorway. Beside her stood the Duke. They looked out of place in their fine evening clothes.

  The staff began to scramble to their feet.

  "Sit" the Duke said. His voice was quiet but it carried. "Do not get up."

  The staff sat back down, looking nervous.

  My mother walked into the room. She looked at the table. She looked at the candles. She looked at me. A smile spread across her face.

  "It smells wonderful" she said.

  She walked to the table and picked up a clean bowl and spoon. "May I?" she asked the cook.

  The cook looked like he might faint. "Of course, Your Grace. Please."

  She ladled a small portion of the bread pudding into her bowl and took a bite. She closed her eyes for a second.

  "Oh!" she said softly. "That is delicious."

  She then asked the chef “Who made the dish?”

  The chef nervously chuckled and said “It was Lady Seraphina, Your Grace.”

  The Duke then stepped forward. He walked to the pot of stew and inspected it. He then took a spoon, tasted the broth, and set the spoon down.

  He looked at me. His face was unreadable as always.

  "Efficient use of ingredients" he said. "You've used discarded materials, such as bones, and somehow managed to make a dish out of them."

  He nodded once. "You have a good head for this, Seraphina. Your future husband will be lucky."

  I cringed at the last part, but it was the highest praise he could give, as he valued competence above all else.

  My mother laughed softly, nudging his arm. "Oh, Corvin just say it tastes good."

  The corner of his mouth twitched. Just a fraction of an inch.

  "It is adequate" he said.

  He then took a piece of the savory bread and ate it.

  I sat there and watched them. My mother was laughing with Marin about the rosemary. My father was discussing grain storage with the cook, but his tone was mild. The staff were relaxing again, realizing they were not in trouble.

  For a moment, the heavy layers of conspiracy and danger peeled away. There were no secret vaults. There were no burned houses. There were no missing memories.

  There was just a family eating dinner on a cold winter night.

  A strange warmth spread through my chest. It had nothing to do with the stew. It felt real. It felt normal.

  The meal lasted for another hour. When the pots were scraped clean and the candles had burned low, I stood up.

  "I should go to bed " I said. "I have lessons in the morning."

  "Goodnight, my lady," the staff chorused, their voices warm.

  My mother kissed my forehead "Goodnight, darling. Sleep well."

  My father nodded to me. "Rest."

  I walked back to my room. My clothes smelled of charcoal and roasted meat. My hands were tired from chopping vegetables.

  I changed into my nightgown, climbed into bed, and pulled the quilt up.

  Usually, this was the time when my mind began to race. I would replay the day's events, analyze every conversation for subtext, build dossiers, and calculate threats. I would wonder about Elodie. I would worry about Theo.

  But tonight, my mind was quiet. It was peaceful.

  I thought about the way the stable boy had scraped his bowl clean. I thought about the way Marin had hummed as she cleared the table. I thought about my father eating a piece of stale bread.

  I closed my eyes.

  There was no need to analyze. There was no need to dissect the laughter. Sometimes a meal is just a meal. Sometimes a family is just a family.

  I let my breath slow. I let my muscles relax into the mattress.

  The winter wind howled outside the window, but it could not reach me here.

  I was safe. I was warm and for the first time in a long time, I was simply satisfied.

  And once again I have fallen asleep.