Page 20 of The Rake and the Cake

“Yes, please!”

She dropped the invisibility spell to find Aisling flushed and bright-eyed. Aisling said, “There you are.”

“Here I am.” Brook leaned down, tilting her head.

Aisling went up on her toes—and then someone shouted, “Ash!”

Aisling winced. Then pulled away from Brook reluctantly, saying, “Darra. Hello.”

“Darra!” Brook let Aisling go and turned on her heel, hand already out. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Darra, a good-looking elf in a rumpled suit, with hair just as red as Aisling’s, took the hand and shook it. “You have?” They glanced at Aisling.

“Brook, my sibling, Darra. Obviously. Darra, this is my intended, Brook.”

“Britheue Fyreham-Graymalkin,” Brook said.

“Right, it’s so long I forgot,” Aisling deadpanned.

Brook laughed and bumped her with her hip.

Darra’s smile lit up the whole pavilion. “You never said, Ash!”

“Well, now I’m saying.”

“Come meet Mum and Dad—they’ll be so pleased. Not that Aisling needs to get married, of course, but you know how parents can be. They like to know that their elflings have someone to take care of and to take care of them, once they’re out on their own. I’m sure I’ll understand once the twins are born. Did she tell you about the twins?”

Brook followed Darra but not before shooting Aisling an amused look. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting from the golden child of Aisling’s family, but it certainly hadn’t been this chatty, cheerful thing.

“Mum, Dad, look who it is,” Darra said.

Aisling’s parents were, unsurprisingly, short. They wore good, sturdy suits with clever little gear-shaped embellishments, and the mother wore spectacles that made her hazel eyes appear very large and round. She said, “Sorry, who—oh! Aisling!”

“Songbird!” her father said, smiling hugely.

Aisling flushed.

“Do you sing?” Brook asked.

“She used to sing all day, when we’d have her in the workshop. I always said it inspired some of my greatest work,” her mother replied. “Hello, Ash.”

Aisling cleared her throat and said stiffly, “Mum, Dad, this is Brook. My intended.”

Both parents paused, as if some spell had frozen them in time.

Aisling shifted from foot-to-foot, her tail lashing behind her with nervous energy.

“Really?” Her mum finally asked. “Is it true?”

Aisling’s face screwed up tight, like she’d just tasted something awful. She opened her mouth—

“Of course it’s true!” Brook rushed to say, with a little flourish and a bow. “Would she lie about a thing like that? Hello, Mum.”

Aisling’s shoulders slumped. Her tail wrapped around her own waist, settling there. As if she didn’t trust it. She shot Brook a grateful look.

“Well, then!” said her dad. “Who are your family, Brook? Where are you from?”

“She’s a Fyreham-Graymalkin,” Darra said—clearly they knew what the name meant.