But he was smiling.
That soft, genuine smile that made her chest feel warm and tight.
The servants placed the covered dish on the table in front of Heena and stepped back.
Larus moved to stand beside the table, his hands clasped in front of him, looking nervous and hopeful and absolutely endearing.
"Your Majesty," he said formally, and his voice only shook a little. "I’ve prepared kheer—a traditional sweet dish from my holand. It’s made with rice, milk, sugar, and dried fruits. I... I hope it pleases you."
Heena stared at the covered dish, then at Larus’s anxious face, then at the small burns on his hands.
He’d hurt himself. Making her dessert.
Sothing in her chest cracked open.
"Larus," she said softly, "your hands—"
"It’s nothing," he said quickly. "Just a few small burns. I’m not very experienced with cooking equipnt. But I was careful with the kheer itself. I promise it’s safe to eat."
He reached out and carefully lifted the lid.
Imdiately, the most incredible aroma filled the room—sweet and creamy, with hints of cardamom and saffron, warm and comforting and absolutely mouthwatering.
Heena leaned forward and looked at the dish.
It was beautiful.
Creamy white kheer studded with golden raisins, silvered almonds, and bright green pistachios. The surface was perfectly smooth, indicating patient stirring. The consistency looked exactly right—not too thick, not too thin.
This wasn’t beginner’s luck. This was careful attention and genuine effort.
"It looks amazing," Heena said honestly.
Larus’s face lit up like the sun. "Really?"
"Really," Heena confird.
Without being asked, Larus picked up a clean bowl and served a portion for Heena. His hands were still trembling slightly, but he was careful, precise.
He set the bowl in front of her and handed her a spoon.
Then he stepped back and waited, watching her face with such anxious hope that it was almost painful.
Heena picked up the spoon and took a small bite.
And—
Oh.
Oh, it was ’good’.
Creamy and perfectly sweet, with just the right amount of cardamom to add warmth without being overwhelming. The rice was cooked to that perfect point where it was soft but still had texture. The nuts added crunch, the raisins added bursts of sweetness.
It was comfort food. The kind of dessert that tasted like ho and safety and care.
Heena took another bite.
Then another.
Then she realized she’d finished the entire bowl in approximately five bites and she was still hungry for more.
She looked up at Larus, who was watching her with such naked hope and vulnerability that it made her heart ache.
"Larus," she said seriously.
His smile faltered slightly. "Yes?"
"This is incredible," Heena said. "Genuinely, truly incredible. Where did you learn to make this?"
His smile returned, brighter than before. "My mother taught when I was young. She said that a prince should know how to take care of himself, and that included being able to prepare at least one proper dish."
"Your mother was a wise woman," Heena said.
"She was," Larus agreed, and there was affection and sadness mixed in his voice.
Heena stood up and walked around the table to where he stood.
Up close, she could see the exhaustion more clearly—the slight shadows under his eyes, the way he was swaying almost imperceptibly on his feet, the small burns that dotted his fingers and palms.
"You hurt yourself," she said, taking one of his hands gently and examining the burns.
"It’s nothing," Larus insisted. "Just part of learning. I’m not used to the palace equipnt—"
"Sit down," Heena ordered.
"But the ritual—"
"’Sit’," Heena repeated, more firmly.
Larus sat.
Heena turned to one of the servants. "Bring the dical kit. And more kheer. I’m not done eating."
As the servant rushed off, Heena pulled a chair over and sat facing Larus.
"Give your hands," she said.
He extended them hesitantly, and she took them carefully, examining each burn.
None of them were serious—just small burns from touching hot tal or getting splashed by hot liquid. The kind of thing that happened to anyone learning to cook.
But they were ’his’ burns. From making sothing for ’her’.
The servant returned with both the dical supplies and another bowl of kheer.
Heena set the kheer aside and began carefully treating Larus’s burns with healing salve.
"You didn’t have to do this," she said quietly as she worked. "If you’d told my aunt you didn’t want to participate in this ritual, I would have supported you."
"I know," Larus said. "But I wanted to. The ritual asked to prepare sothing for you, and I... I wanted to make sothing you’d enjoy. Sothing that ant sothing to , so it could an sothing to you too."
Heena’s hands paused in their work.
She looked up and t his eyes.
"It does," she said softly. "an sothing. This was... this was really thoughtful, Larus."
He smiled—that soft, genuine smile that she was starting to recognize as his real one, the one he didn’t show to anyone else.
"Good," he said. "That’s all I wanted."
Heena finished bandaging his hands and then, on impulse, picked up the bowl of kheer.
"Open," she said.
Larus blinked. "What?"
"Open your mouth," Heena said. "You made this, but you probably didn’t get to eat any. So I’m feeding you."
"Your Majesty, that’s not—you don’t have to—"
"Open," Heena repeated, holding up a spoonful of kheer.
Larus opened his mouth, his face turning slightly pink.
Heena fed him the bite of kheer, watching his expression soften as he tasted his own creation.
"Good?" she asked.
"Mm," Larus nodded, swallowing. "Better than I thought it would turn out, honestly."
"It’s perfect," Heena said firmly. "Stop doubting yourself."
She fed him another bite, then took one herself, and they sat there trading bites of kheer back and forth like the world’s strangest dessert sharing session.
From across the room, the Duchess watched with satisfaction.
"Well," she said to herself quietly, "I believe the ritual has served its purpose."
She stood and moved toward the door, leaving the newlyweds to their mont.
As she passed System 427, who was hovering nearby, she whispered, "Sotis the old ways work for a reason."
The System could only nod in agreent.
Because watching Heena and Larus share that simple bowl of kheer—treating his burns, trading bites, smiling at each other with such genuine affection—
This was what the ritual had been designed to create.
Not a test of cooking skills.
But a mont of vulnerability, care, and connection.
And it had worked perfectly.
Heenahad barely placed the spoon down when she felt a familiar gaze on her.
Slowly, she turned.
Her aunt was looking at her.
Not warmly.
Not proudly.
No—she was looking at her the way one might look at a particularly disappointing piece of furniture.
Hina’s brows slowly furrowed.
Her expression imdiately turned irritated.
"What now?" she asked, her eyes practically saying what more do you want?
The aunt stared back at her as if she were looking at trash soone had dragged into the palace.
"Your Majesty," she said calmly, "he has done his part."
She slightly tilted her chin toward Larus.
"Now it is your turn."
Heena blinked.
"...My turn?"
For the first ti since the dessert arrived, confusion appeared on her face.
The aunt ignored her and instead turned toward Larus.
Her tone beca almost ceremonial.
"Larus."
He looked up.
"Now that Her majesty likes the food you made, you may ask Her Majesty for anything you want."
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