Page 25 of The Rake and the Cake

And yet so very, very unavailable.

“There’s something missing, still.” Aisling sighed, tail lashing in irritation. “Perhaps it’s too sweet? Or needs more citrus?”

“Isn’t that how you curdled the last batch?” Brook’s face was spattered with flour, a stripe of it across one high cheekbone where she’d whisked away oven-induced sweat.

“Yes, but I wasn’t paying close enough attention,” Aisling insisted.

“Because you were too busy trying to do my job and yours.” Brook held up the clever little clockwork device she’d acquired earlier in the evening. “I bought this so you wouldn’t have to.”

Aisling sighed. “I’m not used to having help.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Brook smiled and leaned one hip against the counter, so her long body appeared even more sinuous than usual. “But alas, I’m realizing I enjoy being useful—at least to you—and so you’ll have to learn. Admit it: it’s easier with extra hands.”

Aisling waved her tail. “I have this!”

“And it’s very pretty.” Brook pushed off the counter and took a few steps nearer. “But it’s still just one brain focusing on all the things. Whereas with the pair of us…” She held up both hands. “Anyhow, I have good hands.”

“Yes, apparently,” Aisling said before she caught the innuendo. Then she flushed. Alone in the dark with the most beautiful elf in the world once more. She glanced down at her little cakes, one of them jewelberry, one of them the experimental custard.

“Go with the berry, then, if you don’t feel good about the custard yet,” Brook said, coming closer still. “It’s what made you famous, after all.”

The scent of her was lovely, now underlaid with sweat. Aisling’s throat went tight, her belly clenched. “I… yes. That’s what I’ll do,” she decided.

“Shall we celebrate?” Brook asked, eyebrows high.

“Oh—uh. No. Not yet. Let’s not cast an accidental curse,” Aisling fumbled.

Brook frowned but took a step backwards. “I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

“Nevertheless. Ah…”

Brook looked like she wanted to ask a question.

But Aisling started putting things away busily. “Thank you for the help. I feel quite prepared for tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. Well, good! That’s what I’m here for!”

“Good night, Brook,” Aisling murmured.

“Yes. Good night.” Brook lingered though, one hand on the door. A few seconds later, she said, “See you tomorrow? I’ll come early, so I can see you win.”

“Before noon?” Aisling smiled over her shoulder.

With sudden sincerity in her dark eyes, Brook said, “Before noon.”

And sure enough, the next day Brook came just as the crowds began their rounds of the food stalls. The judges from each of the three elven cultures of Everend all had contingents with them, and it was tradition for every stall to offer samples to them all. The Dun Steorra judges were at the next stall over when Brook said, “Shall I work the stall for your regular customers? Then you can do the relentless waves of judges without ignoring commerce.”

Aisling opened her mouth to say no, it wasn’t necessary—but she couldn’t deny that even if she could do it alone, it would be easier if she didn’t have to. “You don’t mind?” she asked.

Brook shook her head. “I’ll make sure you’re sold out early tonight, just wait and see.”

She wasn’t joking. As Aisling took on clusters of competition judges and their friends with little trays of half-cakes and samples, Brook worked a different and very visible kind of magic. She flirted with customers who wanted to flirt and flattered or otherwise buttered up the others. They’d made almost double the usual amount of food, but they nearly ran out after lunch, and Aisling scrambled between judges to prepare what they had in the ice box for the dinner crowd.

Through it all, Brook worked her unfailing charm on the increasingly tipsy—thanks to the pub crawl tradition that went along with the food competition—customers. “Look at you, handsome, bet you’re looking for something hearty. Copperford pie, sure to take the big prize today. And you, that smile tells me everything. You want the cake special. You’ll love it, it’s mint and burberries, the sweetest, reddest you’ve ever seen. Oooh, yeah, good choice. We’re running out, too, so you’re just in time.”

How funny that someone so good at charming people could be so insistent that they just wanted to disappear. Aisling, for one, could watch Brook work the counter forever.

At the end of the day, they shut up the sold-out stall and headed to the Market Pavillion. Though she’d been nervous this morning, Aisling was oddly calm on the walk; she’d done what she could, Brook had gone above and beyond, and she’d seen so many smiles on satisfied faces today…