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W ith a determined stride, I left the prince amidst his fawning supporters, the murmur of their voices fading as I walked away. One glance back found him already swallowed up by the swarm. Everyone wanted a chance to get close to the prince. I hoped he would find someone else to entertain whatever twisted thoughts rolled through his head, or that his aide would convince him to choose one of the other women. But there was something about that look in his eye that told me this would not go away easily.

Once back at my cozy home, I cleaned up the dishes I’d used to start my day and sat on the small chair in the sitting room. Already my body ached, but I knew I wasn’t physically tired. It was a mental weight that made my shoulders tighten and my legs throb. The prince was in town and now had his eye on me and, once again, I longed for home. I wanted to be with my people, but I knew I could never return there.

Whenever I missed my true home, I’d open the shuttered windows of my simple cottage and listen to the sweet songs of the lily willows. Delicate little birds with twisted beaks that made their songs sound like the jazz music the ancient humans brought to Lunaterra when they crashed into our world all those years ago. I had never interacted with an actual human or any of their direct descendants, but my father had. And he raved about the beings that so many others wanted to demonize.

It had been five years since I last heard my father’s shaky laughter. When something amused him, his entire body became an expression of joy with chaotic jerks and violent shaking. He couldn’t help it. He would have outbursts unbefitting someone of his position, but he didn’t care. And neither did I. My favorite moments were those spent laughing with my father. My mother complained that I inherited my expressive laughter from him. She tried to train it out of me, but the habit persisted, like a weed refusing to die. At least that’s how my mother saw it.

I went to the window, leaned on the sill, and let out a long sigh. The scent of fresh tea hung in the air. When I closed my eyes, the birds almost sounded like her. My mother. I could see her soft eyes and full smile. Yes, she was a mother who wanted the best for her daughter. She was strong-willed, and sometimes pushy, but she was also joyous. She would sing whenever she could. Anytime I found my mother alone, she’d be humming a song and daydreaming about being a performer. I missed everything about her.

It’s hard to walk away from everything you know and start over. Especially when you have to do it in secrecy. It’s not the way I wanted my life to go, but I saw no other way to live a life I designed for myself. My parents wanted more for me than my simple dreams. They actually would have been happy to find out that a prince like Asante had chosen me, even if it was only to appease his mother. They wanted me to be educated, to marry well, to have babies and to live a life where aides helped me do everything.

I wanted a life I could actively participate in. Where I could work long hours doing things I loved. Where I didn’t have to hide in corners to sing my melodies. My mother’s heart longed to be a singer, to perform in front of crowds. My heart ached every time I had to remember how she gave that all up.

After an hour of thinking about things I couldn’t change, I headed out. I couldn’t spend the day wallowing. There was work to be done, and customers who depended on me to do it. I pinned my long locs up into stacking buns at the back of my head. Splitting the weight in two meant fewer headaches and a style that would last through long days.

I had to get a head-start because things were a little more difficult for me. Most shop owners in Clayhorn could warm up their equipment with the breath of their dragon. I had to use other means, and I had to do it in secret. I was a woman of ice hiding in a world of fire.

I didn’t keep it hidden because anyone would shun me for it. Ice and Fire often intermingled. But I kept the detail to myself because I felt it added another layer of protection. The fewer people who knew, the less likely someone would go digging into my past.

My doors opened just in time for my first customer. That same gray-haired old woman.

“Hello Mesi!” I greeted her cheerfully.

“Happy to see you opened on time.” She smiled. “Those other slackers are still trying to get over the shock of our unexpected visitors.”

“It’s a rare sighting.” I shrugged. “I understand it.”

“I suppose. Still not sure why he’s here.” She pursed her lips. “He’s barely shown any interest in the women out there. And trust me when I say they are doing everything they can to get his attention.”

“Have they not gone yet?” I couldn’t help the frown that spread across my face. “That’s surprising.”

“No, the prince is taking his time. Meeting with the elders of the community. I could have stayed, supposed I should have considered the number of grays on my head, but I have a routine to keep. I need my morning delights.”

“Well, I’m happy to be a part of your routine.” I smiled.

“You know how addictive your treats are. It reminds me of things I had long ago.” she paused, giving me a look that made the hair on the back of my neck stand. “That was a long way from here, though.”

“You’ve mentioned this before, but you never give me any details.” I urged her once again to remove the enigmatic veil from her words.

“A girl has to keep a little mystery about herself.” She winked at me before shuffling over to the display case where the prepared pastries waited.

After spending more time with Mesi, and bagging up her favorite puff pastries with the yellow flecked icing, I returned to my duties of crafting delicacies that kept customers coming back. They could never understand why they loved my food so much. It was a family secret, one I was so grateful my grandmother had taught me.

My process had a secret ingredient: ice. While folding the dough and mixing the fillings, I infused my desserts with ice, binding it to the molecules. That was the secret. It gave the treats an extra pop that drove the fire dragons crazy. As far as I knew, I was the only person in the land of fire capable of creating these treats.

That day felt different. Tunes I heard my mother sing a thousand times filled my mind. I began humming them as I worked. It started out looking to be a slow day, everyone was still trying to catch sight of the prince. But once the excitement wore off, it was back to business as usual. As the end of the day neared, my shelves were nearly bare.

I whipped up a few more things for the night rush, but felt confident that everything would be gone before I closed up. I was always careful to make just the right number of delights, no leftovers. My creations had to be eaten as fresh as possible, because the crystals I infused them with would melt and disrupt the taste.

I’d just finished arranging the last of the colorful, sweet-smelling treats when the door opened with a chime, announcing a customer. With one of my mother’s melodies still in my mind, I turned, humming, to greet my new customer. The smile dropped from my face when I saw who was walking through the door.

In that instance, I heard my mother's voice in the back of my mind saying, ‘ Child watch your face’ . I'd fought a silent war against my own expressive face my whole life. Whatever feelings I had lurking under the surface would instantly paint themselves across my features. As Asante entered, I was sure my face matched my thoughts. Please go the hell away.

His entourage of aides followed close behind. Including the one marked with talons. The old man who looked in constant fear of losing his job. His beady eyes quickly scanned the inside of my shop as the door closed behind their crew.

Asante looked genuinely surprised to see me standing there, as if he didn't know that I was the owner of the shop, so I tucked away my annoyance and greeted him like I would any customer.

“Welcome.” I smiled politely. “How can I help you?”

“It’s you.” A soft smile lifted the corner of his mouth before it disappeared. “Is this your shop? Are you the owner?”

“Yes, owner, baker, and server.” I nodded and discounted the fact that it should have been obvious. Perhaps he thought I was just a worker there? “I opened it not too long ago. I’m new to the area.”

“Well, we’re glad you came.” He looked around me at the freshly prepped display case. “I’ve heard about your desserts all day. The elders even made me promise that I would come here before leaving. You've made quite an impression on this community. Especially the one called Mesi. She was adamant that I do not miss out.”

“Word of mouth is the best for business, as they say.” Again, I remained as polite as possible while trying to control my expression. I would need to have words with Mesi later. And I don’t know what it was about him, but my blood instantly boiled every time he spoke. All I could think about was how he referred to me as ‘that one’.

“I received a lot of recommendations about what I should try, but I’d like to know what you think. What’s your best dessert here?” the prince asked.

I looked around at the dwindling supply.

“The best thing on the menu sold out earlier in the day. It takes a long time to make, so I won’t have more until tomorrow, but,” I walked over to the case, opened it and pulled out a small pastry. Delicate layers of dough folded around a soft jellied inside. I placed it on a piece of parchment paper and handed it to him. “Let me know what you think.”

I watched carefully as the prince lifted the simple dessert to his lips. A dusting of sugar-coated his fingertips as he bit into the pastry. My smile mirrored his as I saw his lips curve into a joyful expression. Every chef anticipated this moment, the unveiling of their dish, the quiet hush before the explosion of taste and texture. Then came the shift in expression. The slight upturn of their lips, the flutter of their eyelids, the warmth in their cheeks. An expression of pure joy. Confirmation you created something that touched them deeply.

For a moment, the previous arrogance seemed to drain from the prince’s face, leaving behind only a look of vulnerability. He didn't look like someone who thought his birthright meant the world owed him whatever he wanted. There was an almost gentle and caring quality about him. A quality that briefly made me lose the desire to punch him in the face.

I was never more patient than when waiting for someone to try my food. Watching the prince, I no longer cared about the people who came in with him. All that mattered was that he savored every morsel.

“I’ve never had anything like this before.” His eyes opened, and he looked at me with something like awe.

“A delicacy taught to me by my grandmother.” I nodded and smiled. “This is one of the first things I ever learned to make. So simple, but for a long time, it was my favorite.”

“I would love to meet her.” He looked around as if my grandmother would appear out of the shadows.

“She isn’t here.” I shook my head.

“Out shopping?” He bit into the pastry again and smiled. “I don't mind waiting for her to come back.”

“No, I mean, I’m alone now. I have no family here.” The words were hard to say, but they were true.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.” He glanced over at the gray-haired man and nodded. “Domin, I would like to have more of these.”

“Of course, sir.” Domin nodded and reached for a pouch, which I assumed contained the currency to pay for the prince’s order.

“Can you make more?” Asante looked back at me. “How long do you need?”

“That really depends on how many you would like.”

“Enough to last me a month.” Asante lifted his chin. “I want to have these every day.”

“They don't really set well for more than a day. It's why I make them fresh each day.”

“I understand. So, if I want more, I have to come back every day?”

“That is impossible.” Domin fussed.

The prince paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow as he considered his next move. Again, he looked different; his eyes held a newfound intensity, and his posture was more confident.

“I’m sorry if he offended you earlier.” His words shocked me as he referred to the man whose name I now knew was Domin.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “You're used to getting what you want. He probably is, too. And all the women out there want you, so you’re probably not used to coming across a woman who would deny you.”

“I have to ask you. Would you really deny my request?” Asante narrowed his gaze.

“To be your fiancé? Why wouldn’t I? You know nothing about me.” I scoffed. “Also, I hear how the elders talk about you.”

“Oh? How do they talk about me?” He looked amused. “Do I have a terrible reputation?”

“Yes, you do.” I said honestly and glanced at Domin, who looked displeased at my answer. “I know it's not right for me to say this to your face, considering your position. But you asked, and I am an honest person.”

“Your honesty comes sharp like a blade.” He dusted the sugar from his fingertips. “But it's good to know. That’s a shame. I suppose I should work to repair that.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” I agreed with him.

“Would it change your mind?” He looked me in the eye. “If I work to fix my reputation, would you be open to my request?”

I considered his question, knowing full well the life he led wasn’t one I wanted to be a part of. “No, it wouldn’t change my mind.”

“You seem sure of that.” Asante quickly glanced at the helpers who lined the store before returning his eyes to me. For a moment, it looked like I had embarrassed him.

“I am.” I adjusted the apron around my waist. “What you're offering isn't something I want. So, no matter how much you improve yourself or what actions you take to fix your reputation, it won't change that. But I'd be happy to see you repair the thoughts of the old ones.”

“Very well.” He looked around. “I’ll take everything.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Everything you have, I’ll take it.” He waved at the display cases.

“Oh, I can’t do that.” I refused his offer. “That wouldn’t be fair to my other customers. I have regulars who rely on me.”

“Interesting.” He sighed. “Well, give me what you can. Domin will pay you for everything.”

I nodded and turned to bag up the items I could spare, leaving a few of the goods I knew my regulars would come in looking for. Like the buttery breads that Calli came for every night. She loved to have them with her soups. She would hold it against me if she couldn’t get at least two of them. I pretended not to hear their hushed whispers and muttered complaints while I focused on my work.

“Why can’t you just order her to come with us?” Domin fussed. “If you want her so badly, just make it happen. You’re the prince.”

“I don’t want to make anyone do something they don’t want to do. Besides, you know my mother. She will recognize the deception easily. Gather the sweets, pay her, and let's go.”

“As you wish.”

Asante turned to leave the shop, leaving just Domin and one other woman behind. When I finished bagging the goods, the woman took the bags, Domin paid me, and they left. The second he was out the door, I covered my mouth with my hands and screamed into my palms.

“I hope you never return!” I fussed and stomped back over to the counter.