Half an hour later, the table was laid with eleven exquisite courses, each a feast for the eyes and palate.
There was shredded rabbit in spicy dipping sauce, fresh rabbit stew, tender violet bamboo shoots with rabbit meat, fiery spiced rabbit head, savory marinated rabbit legs, white rabbit mushroom broth, a grand platter of roasted rabbit, buttery rabbit with starfruit, double-pepper rabbit stir-fry, rabbit-shaped pastries, and a fruit platter sculpted into tiny rabbits.
The "rabbit pastries" were cakes molded into the shape of rabbits and steamed to perfection.
Similarly, the fruit platter featured apples, pears, bananas, and watermelon all carefully carved into little bunny shapes, filling the dish with playful artistry.
Zyra glanced once, then her appetite ignited. She used her chopsticks to pick up a thin slice of rabbit meat, savoring its tender freshness. Her delicate eyes, like translucent glass, narrowed in bliss.
Her eating was elegant and measured, yet she never paused her chopsticks.
"Mistress, how is it?" Rabbithound's ruby eyes gleamed with hopeful anticipation.
"Excellent," Zyra replied frankly.
No wonder this creature was the foremost spirit chef of the fey. The dishes were infused with magic, enhancing flavor beyond mortal kitchens , far superior to the bland fare served at the Chancellor's manor.
Meanwhile, at the Chancellor's estate, a tense scene unfolded.
Lady Matron Wilhelmina, clad in an embroidered crimson robe trimmed with silver clouds, sat poised on her high chair. Her powdered round face was set with displeasure, lips painted vermilion pressed tight.
"What did you say? No Snowbell rabbits secured?" she demanded, voice dripping with aristocratic disdain.
"How could you, steward Wulfric?" she scolded.
Wulfric knelt, tearful and desperate. "Forgive me, my Lady. It was the young Lady Zyra , she snatched away the Snowbell rabbits you ordered. I had already prepared the payment, but she thrust herself in and struck me harshly..."
"Nonsense!" Wilhelmina scoffed. "That useless girl has no true skill. You are a warrior of the Lesser Circle , how could she best you?"
The Lesser Circle was a recognized stage in the martial path, divided into Lower, Middle, Upper, and Grand Master tiers.
Wulfric, her cousin from her noble family, was trained in combat.
"It is true! I dare not deceive you!" Wulfric pleaded, lifting his head, the red whip scars crisscrossing his face stark in the candlelight. "That Zyra used some sorcerous means I do not understand , she made me kneel and suffer public shame and lashes. I warned her that the Snowbell rabbits were your personal order, but she simply defied you, showing no respect whatsoever!"
Humiliated in public, anger burning in his heart, Wulfric rushed back to report.
To heighten his pitiful state, he had not even dressed his wounds, bleeding openly.
"Is that so?" Wilhelmina's temper simmered but was masked beneath cold composure.
Having served her for years, Wulfric knew her well. Noticing the subtle grip on her chair's armrest hidden beneath her sleeve, he pushed further, "She even accused you of withholding her monthly wages , called you cruel!"
"Hah, and how much more coin does she want? Five silver marks isn't enough?" Lady Wilhelmina sneered coldly, her slender eyes burning like twin black flames that could devour souls.
"Indeed," Wulfric quickly chimed in, "She fancies herself the young master of the Arcane Academy, or the gifted second lady, expecting fifty silver marks as her wage! A worthless one should know her place! My Lady, you must teach her a lesson!"
The young master and second lady were titles borne by Wilhelmina's own kin, her greatest pride in life.
"Come, we'll visit the Dustveil Manor."
Wilhelmina smoothed her crimson and gold gown, adjusted the peony hairpin crowning her coiffure, and strode like a queen cutting through flowers and willows toward Zyra's abode.
"Oh, what a rich aroma," she murmured as she reached the manor gates, catching the tantalizing scent of roasting meat.
She was no stranger to fine fare , the capital had no delicacy she hadn't sampled.
Wulfric's senses prickled. "That must be rabbit meat. Zyra has cooked those Snowbell rabbits already!"
Unable to resist, Wilhelmina pushed open the door to Dustveil Manor.
With every step inside, the scent of roasted rabbit grew stronger, intoxicating and sharp, invading her senses with a yearning more fierce than any she had known.
The grand feast of rabbit dishes lay spread before her eyes: fresh rabbit stew, spicy rabbit head, white rabbit mushroom broth, violet bamboo shoots with tender rabbit...
Her mouth watered uncontrollably.
The century-old Rabbit Feast Tavern of Ten-Mile Street was famed throughout the capital, yet in appearance, scent, and artistry, it did not compare even a fraction to this spread.
What remained unknown was the taste.
Wilhelmina longed desperately to try.
Her fingers trembled with desire.
"Hungry, are you?"
The voice came from the young lady seated with her back to Wilhelmina, clear and pure like polished jade.
Swallowing hard, Wilhelmina could not help but reply, "Hungry."
Wulfric's eyes widened in shock.
In his mind, he screamed: No, my Lady! We came to teach that insolent girl a lesson, to put her in her place!
"Do you want some?" Zyra asked, sitting straight-backed. She lifted a glossy roasted rabbit leg with her chopsticks, tender and juicy, flecked with white ginger threads.
Wilhelmina held her breath, immediately answering, "I do!"
She could devour an entire rabbit leg in one bite , it was hers!
She threw aside all decorum befitting her status as Lady of the Great House and elder, rushing forward , only to see ,
Zyra offering the leg to a scruffy little mottled rabbit.
The poor creature looked up with sorrowful eyes, as if saying, Why must I eat my own kind? I no longer love you!
"Eat."
Despite its pitiful attempts to protest, the mottled rabbit meekly accepted the leg, clutching it with its tiny paws and nibbling reluctantly.
In Zyra's pale eyes flickered a faint emotion that could only be called satisfaction. Seeing the rabbit finish, she promptly fed it a spicy rabbit head.
Rabbithound: "..."
Lady Wilhelmina: "..."
A chill crept from Lady Wilhelmina's feet all the way to her mind.