The morning had come wrapped in white, and the snow outside made the whole village look softer than it really was, as though the world had decided to cover stone, wood, and trouble with one pretty clean blanket and pretend nothing ugly could possibly happen beneath it.
Inside the dining room, however, everything was warm, lively, and full of smells so good that even the people who had already eaten once kept finding excuses to sit around longer.
The big stone room was filled with the sound of bowls touching the table, warm soup being poured, low voices, and the steady crackle of fire from the hearth.
Thick furs had been spread over the seats, and the windows had been covered well enough to keep the cold out, so anyone sitting inside with a bowl in hand would feel that winter was not so terrible after all.
Especially today.
Because today, Isabella had been in the mood to cook.
