Ovelia's POV
The wooden bench creaked as Ann and I settled at our designated table, separated from the boisterous group of men by Ace's firm order. The rich aroma of roasted meats and herbs still lingered around us, though my stomach protested at the thought of another bite - until I caught sight of the dessert spread.
Golden-crusted pies sat beside glazed fruit tarts, their sugary glaze catching the lantern light. Towering cakes layered with cream tempted me, while delicate pastries dusted with powdered sugar made my fingers twitch with anticipation. The scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar wrapped around me like a sweet embrace.
"Ann," I whispered, nudging her elbow, "I need to try those desserts. Coming?"
Ann's knife scraped against her empty plate as she set it down. "Of course, my lady." She dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin, leaving faint red stains from the berry sauce.
