Chapter 1
Kaya
T he crickets and spring frogs are still chirping and trilling as I climb out of bed and get dressed, donning a clean white apron on top. By the light of my candle, I knot my hair, then I pad down the stairs, stopping halfway to pick up Athanasios, the first maplecat I adopted years ago. He was already old when I found him in the rain, being sad and adorable; I have no clue how old, but his teeth are longer than any other maplecat’s teeth I’ve seen and I’ve seen many.
“Good morning, Sio,” I say, using his nickname.
I ease him over my shoulder as he purrs and continue down to the bakery’s kitchen. Maplecats’ pelts are a product of the Veiled Kingdoms’ magic. Each of them look as though they are covered in autumn leaves, but when you get close, you see each leaf is made of fur and it’s incredibly soft.
“How was your night, buddy?”
He gives his usual loud meow. I set him down, wash my hands at the pump sink, and begin gathering the ingredients for my cinnamon rolls. The actions of putting the dough together are as familiar to me as breathing, but I still pay close attention. I savor the scents of flour, sugar, and cinnamon.
Aside from time with my friends, Laini and Tully, this is the only activity I truly fall into with my whole heart. I have no desire to gallivant off into the unknown like Cyrus, my friend who owns the pub next door, does from time to time. Neither do I want to risk my neck and climb to the top of this or that mountain like my brother, Renen.
Sio meows again. “You’d gladly follow Renen up the cliffs if I didn’t keep a keen eye on your old arse, wouldn’t you?”
Another painfully loud meow and now he’s doing turns around my ankles. He’s a darling.
I set the cinnamon rolls on the long countertop by the back wall so they can rise while I work on the scones. The sun is rising now too, buttery light pouring out of the windows above my brick oven and through the doorway that leads into the bakery’s eatery and display area. The kitchen is cool and dim and I love how quiet it is. I start the scone dough, then the jingle of the bells on my front door and a familiar voice breaks my reverie.
“Good morning, Kaya!”
My stomach flips. He just startled me, that’s all. It’s not his good looks or rich voice, making me feel that way, right? We have been friends for ages. I lick my lips and tuck a loose strand of my hair back into my bun.
“Back here, Cyrus!”
The dragon shifter ducks his horned head as he strides into the kitchen with his dark green hair still sleep-tousled. His gold eyes shimmer, reminding me of the name of his pub—The Gold Coin. Scales highlight his broad shoulders and proud cheekbones. I lick my lips again, wishing I’d remembered the gloss Tully had given me for my last birthday. My mouth is suddenly far too dry.
I reach for a small crockery cup and fill it at the sink as Cyrus does his usual perusing of my work.
“Looks good, very good,” he says.
“Nothing is ready yet.” I down a few swallows of cool water.
He reaches for the bowl of thyme-orange frosting I made yesterday for the scones and I lean over quickly to slap his hand. Chuckling, he pulls his taloned hand away and gives me a wink.
“What do you want?” I ask, sounding more harsh than I meant to. “You smell like you slept in the brewery.”
“Do I?” He actually looks upset as he lifts his tunic and gives it a sniff.
I laugh. “Yes, you do.” I grab one of yesterday’s lavender lemon bars and toss it at him. “Here.”
“Am I supposed to eat it or wash with it?” He pretends to scrub the bar under his arm.
“Brat. There is nothing soapy about my flavors and you know it.”
“True.” He gobbles the whole thing down in two bites, then rubs his flat stomach. “Delish. As always.” Leaning on the wooden block where I am making the scone dough, he watches my hands at work. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows. Cyrus is strong from years of lifting ale barrels and sacks of flour—he helps me on supply day.
My elbow bumps the measuring cup off the surface, and Sio yowls, dodging the liquid that splashes to the floor. Cyrus bends to pick up the cup.
“What do you need?” I ask, wishing he would leave me alone. He’s a good friend, but I feel more comfortable baking without his eyes on me.
Sio is curling around Cyrus’s ankles now, his right side soaked.
“I was hoping you could sell me four extra baguettes.”
“Sure. I will bring them over early this evening, all right?”
“Perfect. I’ll put my money in your till. I assume I can’t talk you into joining us?”
“For the gambling tourney?” I laugh and he joins in, his gold eyes twinkling.
“Yes, I don’t know why I even asked.” His fingers cup my elbow and he squeezes gently. “I’ll see you later, sweetness.”
I smile and try not to wince at the nickname. He’s called me that forever. It started when he was here fixing my sink pump. I tripped and spilled an entire bag of sugar across the kitchen and we spent two hours collecting the expensive ingredient as best we could.
“Have a good day, Cyrus.”
He pets Sio once, then whistles merrily and lopes into the front of the bakery. I watch him pull the large skeleton key I gave him from his pocket. He’s going to lock the door behind him. Good. I can’t have customers wandering in this early. Even though Tully’s duplication spell helps me produce double what I do with my own human hands, I am still painfully understaffed. My one employee, Rosalind, a pixie who usually works part-time, is visiting her sister, whose twins are due to be born today.
But before Cyrus can even finish unlocking the door to leave, there’s a female fairy knocking. She peers through the leaded glass window, pink hair bouncing in time with her continued knocking.
“Hello! Helllooo? Aren’t you open yet?” she asks through the door.
“Want me to get rid of them?” Cyrus twists and stage-whispers to me across the bakery’s eating area.
“No, it’s fine.”
I dust my hands on my apron and hurry out, wiggling past Cyrus to unlock the door with my own key. I swallow as I brush past Cyrus. He is so warm and tall—I guess it’s a dragon thing.
As soon as I swing the door open, a noble, middle-aged fairy dressed in a deep scarlet dress pushes inside. Her wings shimmer with pink light that matches her hair. I know she’s of the nobility because she wears a family crest—a large pin holding her cloak at her throat. She looks to be about forty, but it’s hard to know with folks who were born in the Veiled Kingdoms.
“Can I help you?” I force a smile even though I wish she had read the business hours sign next to the door and realized I wasn’t due to open for another hour.
“I’ve been told you are the pastry queen,” the noble fairy says.
“That’s the truth,” Cyrus says from behind me.
I glance at him and smile, then I focus on my customer. I can’t afford to ignore wealthy folks like her.
“I do enjoy making sweets. What are you looking for? Chocolate croissant? Scones? Tarts, perhaps? The strawberries are in from our greenhouse, and they’re wonderful. With spring officially here, I should have more fruit options any day now.”
She waves off my suggestions. “I need enough scones to feed one hundred at the queen’s tea in two days. I’ll need at least three different flavors. Lavender and lemon, perhaps? Maybe orange? Strawberry would be good. Do you put the flavors into the scones or only into the frosting? They will have frosting, of course. Neatly piped. Oh, and about thirty chocolate croissants would do nicely.”
My mouth is hanging open and I can’t seem to talk. One hundred? The money this order would provide… I could get a new oven. I could hire a full-time employee in addition to paying Rosalind for her part-time work.
The heat of Cyrus’s hand finds my back. “Kaya, do you need a moment to figure out the cost and details? I can grab a quill, ink, and paper.”
I shake myself. “I would be happy to fill your order,” I say to the fairy.
“Oh, wonderful. I will pay you one hundred sovereigns. I’ll need them in two days.”
Swallowing panic, I nod. “No problem.”
“Can you make me a sample or two to take with me? The queen demands to taste everything before serving it to her guests.”
“Sample, yes. Of course.”
My mind is spinning. Do I have enough ingredients?
Cyrus walks past me and starts doing what he does best—charming people.
“Where did your tailor find that lovely fabric?” he asks, using his deepest, most alluring voice. “I have searched for that shade of red for ages. Looks good with my hair.”
He winks and she blushes.
“From the traveling market last autumn. There’s an orc who sails beyond our kingdoms to secure the finest and more rare dyes for his wools and silks.”
As they blather on, I head back to the kitchen. One hundred sovereigns! This is life-changing money.
But how will I fill this order?
I might be friends with a powerful witch, but she can’t solve this for me. The doubling spell she cast on my oven thankfully doesn’t affect the taste of my goods, but if she tampered more, I know the magic would sour things. We have experimented with the spells enough for me to be sure of that. No, magic is not the answer here.
I hear Cyrus bid the noble fairy goodbye, then he is walking into the kitchen where I’m stalled out.
“I didn’t even get her name,” I say lamely. “I didn’t write down the order. I’m panicking.”
Cyrus smiles and tilts his horned head at me. “Aw, Kaya. You’re amazing. It’ll be fine.” He snags the stack of scrap paper I keep by the back door and the quill I received when I finished my tutoring. Leaning on the counter beside my baking mess, he begins scribbling and going through the list.
“Lady Egrettington is her name. The order is for three scone flavors for a tea party of one hundred. Lavender. Lemon. Orange. Strawberry. She also requires thirty chocolate croissants.”
“Oh! I didn’t give her a sample!”
“I talked her out of that to take something off your to-do list.”
My heart warms and I study his handsome face. He is a wonderful person. Naughty and full of vices, but wonderful. “Thank you, Cyrus. I really appreciate it.”
“And guess what?”
“What?” I am always nervous when he gets that excited look.
“I’m going to help you fill this order.”
“What? You don’t know how to bake.”
Cyrus waves off my concern. “I know Rosalind will be gone for a while with those twins coming. Listen, I’ve picked up more than you think watching you work all these years.”
“Really? Won’t you be busy with the pub?”
“Halvard and Trustan can handle most of it. It’ll be fine.”
I cross my arms and give him a stern look. “You always think everything will be fine.”
“It usually is!” He squeezes her shoulder and starts to head out. “I’ll be back this afternoon. I’ll bring one of my part-time lads to watch the bakery. Sound good?”
“It does. Thanks, Cyrus. I really appreciate it.”
“No worries!” He waves over his shoulder and I hear the door open and shut.
Why was he so set on helping me? I mean, I guess it’s because if I fail in this, I’ll likely be too overwhelmed to get his bakery items for the pub, too, so that makes sense. He’s a good guy, but he isn’t usually the first in line for work. I’m pretty sure he sleeps until almost noon when he can. And with a bed full of lovers. I roll my eyes, thinking of his wink and the way he made Lady Egrettington blush. My new baking assistant is truly incorrigible.