Page 8 of The Rake and the Cake

“Of course there was.” Just as there was always one near her. Brook slipped a coin into Azalea’s hand and sent her packing. She didn’t actually want breakfast in bed, she just wanted to avoid her parents this morning. That’d mean being sidelined into a gown fitting or some other cultural dance preparations—and she had no intention of attending tonight’s soiree.

She split the bread in half and stuffed the cheese into it, took the servants’ stairs down the back, and didn’t bother with her invisibility magic. The little village was mostly empty in the late mornings, which was prime time for transacting business in the market.

So when she rounded the corner near The Three Cats and saw some of the Emberleigh royal guards lounging out front, she stopped in her tracks. Prince Aldian wasn’t even here yet. Why were there so many guards? Sure enough, that ex-flame, a particularly large specimen of a soldier affectionately known as Sunny, was among them. Before she could pull her thoughts together enough to disappear, Sunny locked eyes with her.

Fuck.

He stood, head down, clearly heading toward her.

She turned on her heel, marched around the nearest building trying to look unhurried, and murmured the spell to wrap the light around her.

If Aisling wasn’t up for a little fun, maybe Brook could sweet-talk Sunny into forgiving her for disappearing on him last summer. He’d almost certainly give her a fake engagement.

No. No, what was she thinking? Nothing was worth being Sunny’s hyperromantic fixation for another season. Not even getting Priscilla off her back.

Brook was eager to see Aisling but not enough to attempt dividing her attention during the lunch hour. Partly because it would be rude, but also because she sensed she wouldn’t win that battle. Instead, she explored the tech, magic, and gift sections of the market in greater detail. She purchased a clever little sex toy from the cute elf, Acantha, at the clockwork shop. She ordered some new leathers from her favorite clothier, Rowan—whom she was fairly certain was some kind of cousin, though she couldn’t have said how. She browsed the enchanted matches Elian had for sale this summer, admiring the craftsmanship and attention to detail.

When the market began to slow down as people retreated to prepare for the cultural dance, Brook finally made her way to Aisling’s stall. Her heart hammered in her chest, that first flush of excitement after setting her sights on a new paramour. Business had slowed to a trickle, but Aisling was spattered with flour and berry filling, her curls vaguely powdered with flour or sugar—Brook could think of interesting ways to find out which—and her clothing askew, showing off the faint freckles sprinkling pale shoulders.

What a lovely surprise. Brook couldn’t help but wonder where else Aisling was hiding freckles.

She waited in the short queue, catching Aisling’s gaze now and then and smiling secretly. When she reached the counter, she leaned against it and said, “What’s good today, pretty baker?”

Aisling laughed—no blush, this time. “I saved something for you. Come on.” She nodded to the back of her stall.

Brook strangled an urge to punch the air in triumph and went around the back. The door was cracked, so she slipped inside and pressed her back against it to keep out of the way. Aisling finished dealing with her last customer, then turned and put her hands on her hips. Her tail lashed once and then curled around her ankle tightly.

When Brook caught her eyes again, Aisling was watching her with raised eyebrows, one hand on a popped-out hip.

Brook smiled, perfectly happy to be caught admiring. “You have something for me?”

The tail unwound and flicked back to the shelf, snagging a paper-wrapped parcel. Aisling passed it into her hands and held it out.

Brook stepped further into the stall and accepted it, then peeled back the paper. “What is it?”

“A new recipe. I want you to be my taste-tester. You’ve traveled widely, yes?”

Brook nodded as she unwrapped the jewel-like little cloud cake, then held it up to admire. “It looks fancier.”

“It’s just a prototype.” Aisling licked her lips, tail flicking again.

Brook was starting to wonder what that meant. Most body language, she could read just fine, but the tail was new and fascinating.

“Are you hungry?” Aisling asked.

“Always.”

Aisling turned and opened the oven. “Go ahead.”

The blast of heat nearly blew Brook’s hair back, it was so powerful—and that was just from the upper rack. The lower ones were hidden, closer to the heat source. Gingerly, Brook popped the lovely little cake into the oven, then stepped back.

Aisling laughed. “It’s safe. As long as you don’t touch the rack.”

“Noted.” Brook snorted.

Aisling shut the oven and, after glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was waiting for service, refocused on Brook. “So, you came for your free cake after all.”

“That’s not why I came,” Brook confessed.