Page 12 of Ashes, Apples, & Amorous Orcs

My hands clench at my sides. "I produce traditional honey as well, and it's the highest quality because I keep my hives well-maintained and happy. You'd also eliminate delivery fees by sourcing locally—no need to hire transport companies."

"Bees are bees." Vaelis waves a dismissive hand. "They can't feel happy."

I bite back my first response and turn to Granda, the only person whose opinion actually matters in this room. "A permanent local supplier would also open opportunities for complementary trades. Wax and candlemaking could move in. An ale brewery could establish itself. The increased bee population would improve local flora for everyone."

Granda Oltar leans back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. His silver beard catches honey cake crumbs as he considers my words, and I can practically see the calculations running behind his eyes—costs, benefits, long-term implications.

"There's a lot to consider here." Granda Oltar's fingers drum against the desk one final time before he closes his ledger with deliberate precision. "The festival will give us a proper measure of how things work out. I'll let you know our decision after that."

My stomach drops. The festival—three days of temporary vending permits and evaluation. Not a commitment, not even encouragement. A trial period where I'll be watched, measured, and judged against whatever standards Vaelis has already helped establish.

"I understand." I keep my voice steady despite the disappointment clawing at my chest. "Thank you for your time."

Vaelis straightens from her perch against the table, her smile sharp as winter morning air. "Best of luck with your little honey stand, Miss Briar."

The dismissal stings worse than any bee I've ever encountered. I nod to Granda Oltar and walk toward the Guild Hall's heavy door, my embroidered skirts whispering against themselves with each measured step. Behind me, I hear Vaelis's voice drop to conversational tones, already moving on to other business.

The afternoon air tastes sweet after the Guild Hall's formal atmosphere, but the weight in my chest refuses to lift. Temporary. Conditional. Subject to approval. Everything I've worked to avoid, handed to me on a silver platter by someone who sees my presence as nothing more than an inconvenience.

The bakery's warmth envelops me the moment I push through Maddie's door, cinnamon and vanilla chasing away the last traces of Guild Hall formality. Maddie looks up from where she's arranging apple tarts in the display case, flour dusting her auburn curls and her smile bright as morning sunshine.

"Izzy! How did it go?" She abandons the tarts immediately, wiping her hands on her apron as she approaches. "Please tell me Granda was reasonable."

"Festival evaluation." The words taste bitter. "They'll decide after watching me work for three days."

Maddie's face scrunches in sympathy. "That's not exactly the enthusiastic welcome I was hoping for."

"Vaelis made sure to point out that Harvest Hollow already has perfectly adequate honey suppliers." I lean against the counter, suddenly exhausted. "She called my flavor infusions 'silly.'"

"Vaelis would call sunshine silly if it didn't match her outfit." Maddie rolls her eyes with theatrical disgust. "You need to stop thinking so hard about all this business nonsense and try to have some fun while you're here."

Fun. The concept feels foreign after months of careful planning and calculated risks. "I'm not sure I remember how to have fun that doesn't involve profit margins."

Maddie's eyes light up with mischief, her grin spreading wide enough to showcase the dimple in her left cheek. "Maybe Draven would be fun."

Heat explodes across my face like I've opened an oven door too quickly. "Maddie!"

"What? I'm just saying, the man's been finding excuses to check your apiary every day since you set it up." She leans against the counter, clearly delighted by my reaction. "And yesterday Thornak caught him staring off toward your hives during their morning patrol briefing."

"He's doing his job." The protest sounds weak to my own ears. "Protecting the town's interests."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Maddie's eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like a very large, very brooding orc has developed a very specific interest in one particular beekeeper."

"I think you're crazy," I tell her, standing up. "And I have to get back to my bees."

The sound of her laughter jingles with the bell as I rush out, trying to calm my racing heart.

CHAPTER 8

DRAVEN

The rhythm of her movements draws me like gravity.

Isolde moves between the hives with perfect grace, her smoke canister trailing lazy white ribbons that enhance the afternoon light. The bees circle her in lazy patterns, their humming a constant backdrop to the soft murmur of her voice as she speaks to them. She wears a pale yellow dress today, the fabric catching golden highlights that make her look like she belongs among the flowers.

I position myself behind the largest oak, where the shadows provide cover and the angle gives me clear sight lines to both the apiary and the forest beyond. Professional observation, I tell myself. Monitoring potential threats to town assets.

The lie tastes bitter even in my own thoughts.