“Well,” she says with a soft smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here today, Archer.” A spade-tipped tail flicks behind her as it pulls something from the counter. I can’t help but stare at her little body mod. I’ve heard that some elves get magical modifications, but the extra appendage is truly amazing.
“Aisling,” Raylen greets. “I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Sylar Novari of Moonscliffe.”
Forgetting her tail entirely, I focus on Raylen. He isn’t teasing me. The sheer, open sincerity on his pretty face proves he really does view me as his friend, and the knot in my chest completely melts away.
He squeezes my arm, snapping me back to reality. Aisling is looking at me kindly; a patch of flour dusted on her forehead and nose. Her gaze drops to Raylen’s claiming grip on my arm. I don’t pull away, and she doesn’t look bothered in the least.
“Nice to meet you, Aisling. Ray—ah, I mean my companion here, was just telling me about your cloud cakes. Which one do you recommend?”
Suddenly, her entire face lights up. She dives headfirst into a passionate breakdown of the day’s special, gesturing wildly with her tail as she explains exactly how it differs from her classic cloud cake. She completely loses herself in the description, and I can’t help but warm up to her. There’s something so fiercely relatable about her. She reminds me entirely of myself whenever I get going on celestial myths.
My stomach gives another loud rumble, and I peer over at Raylen, unsure which cake I want. The sun is high in the sky, and some of the elves behind us seem to be getting impatient. “Which one should I pick?”
“You’ll love the jewelberry cake. It’s a classic for a reason.”
I nod, grateful he decided for me. “That one.”
“We’ll take two.” Raylen hands her some money, including a generous tip.
“That was awfully kind of you. Thank you.” I’ve only been in this elf’s presence for a short amount of time, and yet he’s completely different from how I remember him. He isn’t the cocky teen who liked to tease me. I mean, sure, he’s still confident as hell, but it’s laced with a playful demeanor that’s quite…charming. By the light, do I have a little crush?
Get over yourself, Sylar. This elf is completely out of your league. He’s full of life and adventure. My heart lies with celestial texts and astrology books. I live a quiet life in a cozy little cottage. Entertaining something like a crush—especially on someone like Raylen—will only lead my heart down a dangerous path.
We find a quiet little alcove of bushes several feet away from the main path. It isn’t quite as hidden as our spot before, but it’s far enough away from prying eyes to drop our hoods. We take a seat, and I wonder just how many of these private little benches are placed around the marriage market.
Cinder trots over to Raylen and hops up next to him. “Hold on, you little monster,” he laughs. “I know how much you love jewelberry, but our guest needs to try his first.
My eyes widen. “Wait, why do I need to eat first?”
“Because, my precious little grump, you need this heavenly cake to lift your spirits.”
I harrumph. “I’m hardly little. I’m almost a foot taller than you.”
“And yet, you’re just as precious, all the same.”
I narrow my eyes and grumble half-heartedly. Such a flirt!
The first bite of cloud cake is absolutely heavenly. The cloud-like, fluffy texture is so warm and delicate that it practically melts on my tongue. I moan. “Oh, goddess. This is delicious. It’s just the right amount of sweetness.” My mood instantly lifts.
Raylen leans in, watching me savor the next bite, his eyes dark with hunger. Hunger for the cake or something else? I’m not entirely sure.
“How do you feel?”
“Just like you said. I feel…better.” I grin. “Truly! This cake has to be magical.”
We eat our cake in silence, Raylen sneaking every few bites to Cinder. After a long moment, Raylen speaks quietly. “I used to get overwhelmed in really big crowds too. I recognized it in you instantly.”
My face scrunches in confusion, and I shake my head. “You, afraid of a big crowd? The famous Raylen of Moonscliffe?”
“Yes,” he chuckles. “Even the famous Raylen of Moonscliffe has feelings.”
I wince. There’s a sharp, almost bitter edge to his words that makes me pause. We aren’t the children we used to be. Hell, I’m nothing like the youngling Raylen grew up with. I might be quiet, and I definitely have my grumpy days, but I don’t let people walk all over me anymore. The days of letting others take advantage of me are long gone.
I catch the shadow of pain still hanging in his eyes. The urge to challenge him or shield myself with our usual playful banter fades. Instead, I let the silence settle between us and say, “Tell me about it.”
He studies me for a long moment. Finally satisfied with whatever he sees there, he nods. “Growing up in Moonscliffe was always magical for me. After my sister and I lost our parentsin a carriage accident, there was a brief moment in time when we thought we would never have a home again.” He clears his throat. “Well, more like I thought we would never have a home again. Isolde was very young. Too young to understand.”
The urge to reach over and hold his hand is strong, and the thought makes me frown. Why am I feeling this way in such a short amount of time? Folding my hands together, I nod, hoping he continues talking.
