The crust and interior of the bread was completely black. Not midnight-black, a warm black, for the color of darkness had many shades. Nevertheless—it caught Cara off-guard.

“Have you never seen Noelictus’ bread, miss?”

She realized the father and daughter were giving her another odd stare. Once again, Cara lied.

“Actually—no. I’d heard about it, but that was why I came this way. I’m from abroad, you know.”

“What continent?”

Cara remembered an off-hand comment of Ser Dalius’.

“Izril.”

“Oh. That is far. I’ve never left Afiele. What c—”

“Violetta. Don’t be rude.”

Her father interrupted her, and the girl fell silent. His warning also apparently meant, ‘don’t be noisy’

because the table became all but silent as he cut the bread and offered Cara a loaf.

“Here, Miss Cara. It’s perfectly good. Made of Ashwheat, rather than the golden stuff. Violetta, the butter.”

Ashwheat? Cara sniffed and the bread smelled heavenly. She saw Violetta proffer a small butter tray, and at least that was surely familar—

Cara blinked at the gray lump of soft butter. Okay, she was beginning to get weirded out.

Violetta hid a smile at Cara’s stare. She actually began to giggle, but Idelt nudged her, and she fell silent.

His fingers drummed twice on the table as Cara gingerly spread some on the bread. She looked at him.

“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen, um, grey butter. Is your milk…?”

“It’s the feed. And grass. It colors everything, Miss Cara. But I’ve tasted milk from afar and it’s not too different to my mind. Sweeter, though.”

It was true. This butter was more…savory? Cara couldn’t describe it, but like the bread, it felt like the sweet had been toned down and something else added. Some other quality. She was reminded of the sixth flavor or something. Umami, from Japan. Like that.

“It’s delicious.”

She told Idelt. He nodded gravely, and she thought she saw a hint of a twitch in his lips. Violetta was smiling, but she covered it again.

“We had milk from a [Trader] one time. It was as white as wool! What does bread look like elsewhere?”

“Um…brown? Golden brown?”

Violetta shook her head as Idelt cut two more slices, and she put some butter on her bread and dipped it into her soup. Cara copied her, and all of them were eating and talking politely. She felt so formal around Idelt, for all he’d instantly welcomed her into her home after meeting her less than an hour ago.

“You said Ashwheat, er, Mister Idelt?”

She fumbled with the formal title. He nodded.

“Yes. From the fields.”

Cara hadn’t seen much on the ride in; it had already been dark. Violetta jumped in.