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“No?”

“I came,” Brook said pointedly, “To ask you if you want to help me avoid the Emberleigh cultural dance tonight.”

“You want to avoid it?” Aisling raised one eyebrow.

“Very much so. Have you been to those things?”

Aisling shook her head, displacing a dark red curl. Her nose wrinkled, and she tried to blow it out of her face. Failed.

Brook’s fingers twitched to fix it. “Well, I’m sure they’re lovely if you’re into that sort of thing. But I am not. My taste runs to the smaller, more personal parties that crop up. But I’d much rather spend the time under the stars, sharing a bottle of wine with someone beautiful.”

Aisling bit back a smile. “Oh? Like whom?”

Brook gave in to the urge and reached out. She twirled Aisling’s errant curl around her finger, then tucked it behind the point of her pink ear. No earrings, no jewelry at all, come to it. Would she like some, or would it just be in her way in the bakery? “You, of course.”

Aisling laughed. “You’re terrible.”

“Am I?”

“No. You’re entirely too good. Eat your cake and tell me what you think.” She turned as a new customer approached her counter. “Welcome. What can I get for you?”

Brook glanced around for the paper from her cake. When she found it, she reached into the oven with it and took her piping hot pastry—she expected it to hurt her hand, but the paper had some kind of coating that protected her hand. Possibly it wasn’t paper at all? How very interesting.

Aisling’s tail thrashed toward the shelf of pre-made baked goods, so Brook pressed against the door again. She watched from close up this time as Aisling went through her service process with the next few customers, tail, hand, hand, tail, hand, hand, talking animatedly about cakes all the while.

The tail featured raised ridges on the thickest part, near the base of Aisling’s spine. Brook’s fingers twitched again, curious, but she busied them with her cake and let her eyes roam. Almost without thinking, she peeled back the paper and took a bite—

Her knees nearly gave out; it was so bleeding delicious. The cake was bread-like but airier; the filling was a rich, aromatic yellow custard flavored with spices and honey and other good things. It looked almost like the other cloud cakes on the outside, but with a sprinkle of powdered sugar over a golden-brown top instead of the honey icing.

The cake had her full attention after that. Brook nibbled it from different angles, trying to perfect the ratio of custard to cake in every bite, eyes rolling back in her head.

“You like it?” Aisling asked, hesitantly.

Brook refocused her attention past the little crumb of cake left in her hand. All Aisling’s customers were walking away with steaming paper parcels in hand. Brook blinked and said, “It’s the most brilliant invention at this market. I’d put money on it.”

Aisling rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Well. Thank you. It’s a new egg custard I’ve been working on. Just a little cinnabark and spice-flower stamen in it. Pricey but worth the investment, I think.”

“Very. Enter this in any of the competitions and you’ll surely win.” Brook popped the last bite into her mouth happily.

Aisling laughed. “Flattery will get you…”

“A shared bottle of wine at Portage Point tonight?” Brook smiled hopefully.

Aisling nodded. “Meet you at my wagon?”

“I can help you close up and prepare for the morning,” Brook offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to—”

Brook waved her off with the empty paper wrapping. “It’s an excuse to spend more time flattering you.”

“Please, no.” Aisling laughed. “I must seem to love it, but I’d really rather just…”

“Talk?” Brook guessed—though it wasn’t the first thing to come into her mind. Not by miles.

“Yes.”

“Very well. I’ll bring the wine; you bring the conversation.” Brook winked and turned to exit through the back door. She paused and glanced over her shoulder though. “Uh, and if anyone should ask—which I’m sure they won’t, but just in case? You have no idea where I’ve been all day.”