Chapter 2
THE CLAIM
“What happened in here, Noelle?” Mother bustled in from the shop. “What kind of—”
But words left her as she took in the crumpled pastry littering the floor among the glass shards of the smashed buttermilk.
“Mama!” Daisy’s cry sounded from upstairs.
Mother shot a glance at me through a flurry of brown and silver curls. “You wake her, you take her. Really, Noelle, today of all days.”
I huffed. It wasn’t me who woke Daisy, but that golden-eyed stranger child.
I shook my head, knitting my eyebrows together.
Who was he? And had I really seen what I thought I’d seen?
I tromped up the flight of wood stairs to get Little Miss ready for the day.
Daisy sat on the edge of her bed yawning.
Blonde hair stuck up at every angle, lending her the look of a kitten tangled in yellow yarn.
“Hungry, Daisy?” I asked as I knelt before her and held out my arms.
“Yes, Ellie. I always hungry for pastries!” Daisy jumped into my full embrace.
“First, we’ll need to do something about that hair!” I fussed as I carried her over to the wash sink. “We can’t have you looking like a street urchin when the Elf King strides by today.”
Daisy’s bottom lip stuck out. “What’s so special ‘bout a dumb ‘ol elf, anyways? They don’t even like Christmas.”
“That’s just what I think, too.” I tweaked her little nose, causing my enormous sleeves to fall well past my hands.
I re-rolled father’s gigantic shirt and brushed out the wild tangles that tumbled around Daisy’s three-year-old shoulders.
Daisy squirmed and fidgeted, but I managed to produce two orderly blonde pigtails out of the mess that was her hair.
Minutes later, I stood at the register in the bakery shop beyond the door of my kitchen.
The giant iron monstrosity housed the many colorful gemstone chips in circulation.
The morning passed like so many before, albeit with a lot more people than usual.
With practiced hands, Mother packed biscuits, cookies, and fluffy pastries into wax paper bags and I weighed the stones.
A citrine chip for two croissants, two ruby chips for a dozen biscuits, a rare onyx from the mayor, who’d ordered three-hundred mini cinnamon rolls for the parade.
Even little Daisy helped. She ran around at my feet, offering small scones to anyone who looked particularly friendly. Most of the villagers were all nervous smiles and darting eyes. As if the elves were watching their every movement.
Even if I missed the Elf King’s parade today, I didn’t miss the blushing girls and proud mothers who paraded through our bakery doors as if on display. Probably practicing for their big moment at noon, when the first of the Elf King’s retinue crested the hill leading into the village square.
Lila Chiselstein strode into the bakery, her brown skin radiant in her rose-colored gown.
Her dress wrapped tastefully around her ample bosom and fell to the floor in a cascade of soft curves.
Her black hair was woven in an intricate side braid that draped over her shoulder and rested between her breasts.
She chirped when she finally got to the counter, “Noelle! Not this ruddy-duddy boy stuff again! How can you bear it?”
“I don’t care about some stupid old elves,” I said truthfully, though I really did just want one small glimpse of the king to satisfy my curiosity. I spoke quickly to hide the blush I felt creep across my neck and into my cheeks. “You know I have to work. Mother needs me.”
“Pssh.” Lila waved her hand dismissively. “You know you’re as pretty as any one of us. You could have a chance to leave this small-minded town. Have a real adventure.”
I shook my head. My town, my bakery was an adventure. I loved it here. Reveled in the familiar smells and dependable schedule.
“Plus,” Lila leaned in as if to share a secret. “The Elf King is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld. He’s looked the same since I was a child. He never ages. I wouldn’t mind looking at that gorgeous face for the rest of my life.”
“But he treats maids like things,” I scoffed, though indeed, that traitorous heat blared through my cheeks, impossible to hide.
But it wasn’t a na?ve desire to finally see this mysterious king.
No, it was anger at that depraved creature that roared through me at last. “To be taken and discarded. He probably grows bored with his maidens within a week.”
“You don’t know that.” Lila’s bottom lip protruded.
“No one does, Lila. No one ever comes back once they cross into the Falls.”
“Hmm.” Lila snatched her box of pastries from my hand and raised her chin.
“Hurry, child.” Lila’s mother hovered around the front door, craning for the first glimpse of the elves’ retinue. Her pinched face grew red, lending her the look of an overripe tomato. “We can’t miss our chance.”
Lila cringed, then turned to me with flushed cheeks and a set jaw. “I will do whatever I can to get out of this backward town. For some of us, the Elf King is our only chance to get out.”
I stammered and blinked, surprised at the sharp edges of Lila’s words. “I-I’m sorry, I—”
“Save it, Noelle.” The harshness of Lila’s tongue was so at odds with her usual capricious nature.
“You’ve known your share of sorrow, to lose your father at such a young age.
My heart goes out to you, it does, but still you flourish.
Not all of us have the same disposition…
or the same mother. Mine is going to marry me off to Axel Armond by the next moon. ”
The blood drained from my face as I grimaced, a mirror to Lila’s scowl. Axel Armond was the single most boastful, swaggering jerk in the entire village. I didn’t envy any woman sorry enough to receive that fate.
“Here, have a cookie.” I offered an extra at no charge. “I hope you find your Elf King to be the escape that you dream him to be.”
My heart warmed at the smile that lit up Lila’s face.
She leaned in and placed a kiss on my cheek, then turned with a determined nod and made her way out to the streets to confront her destiny.
I almost wished she would get chosen. Almost any fate would be better than being bound to the bully Axel. Almost.
Business dwindled and pastries sold out as the villagers filed out to claim their places on the crowded street beyond.
The only baked goods remaining were displayed artfully in the large basket we kept as our offering for the elves.
Every shop was required to give a contribution of their wares.
A donation and a chance to show off. Artisans and craftsman vied for the chance to be taken to the Falls every bit as much as the young maidens.
Going to the Falls meant a new life and promised riches.
It seemed awfully convenient to promise such things if those chosen were then cut off from human villages from that time forevermore.
I placed a “sold out” sign in the doorway and faced the mess that was my kitchen, thinking of the little child, Wyatt, with compassion more than anger. Had I truly seen elf ears popping up through the tangle of stringy blond hair, or had that been a trick of the morning light?
I worked furiously in the kitchen, covered in sweat and grease, tucking stray hairs that fell from my cap as I scrubbed.
Music and shouts of delight announcing the Elf King’s arrival filtered in through the kitchen’s thick glass windows. Noon. The elves were right on time.
Mother bustled into the kitchen and looked me over, lips pursed. “They’ll be by before we know it. You and Daisy stay back here in the kitchens.”
I nodded, glancing down at my grease-covered apron and poorly fitted men’s clothes. “Fine by me.”
When father had been alive, we’d hurry outside after we closed up shop to get a look at the last of the elves as they paraded through. Father would hold me up on his shoulders so I could get a better vantage. My jaw used to drop, my eyes gleamed, so unaccustomed I was to their beauty and finery.
Then my father had died.
And I would never look at an elf the same. They were beautiful to hide the despicable evil festering in their hearts.
Mother brought Daisy into the kitchen and shut the door, closing us in while she waited in the bakery to greet the king’s servant.
It was the same as last year—the year after father’s passing. Mother plastered a smile on her face, fluffed her curls, and wore a mask of congeniality to hide the hatred beneath. She was a widow who ran a successful bakery with help from her shy “son” and small daughter. Nothing more.
“Come on, puppy.” I sighed to Daisy as I took her small hand in mine and led her over to the art supplies I’d gathered.
She perked up at her favorite nickname, then pretended to sniff about like a little dog.
“How ‘bout we go color?” I asked.
“Ruff!” Daisy barked and nodded her head.
Daisy loved coloring and painting. If she didn’t have pencils, charcoals, or paint, she settled for flour and milk and the walls.
I’d stocked up on art supplies to keep us both entertained while the rest of the village cheered and fawned over the elves and their finery.
I tried not to daydream as I lay on the freshly swept kitchen floor, one hand on a paintbrush.
What did it look like out there? What kind of music were they playing?
What kind of delicacies were they eating?
It always came down to food for me. Our bakery was right next to the dais at the center of the square.
We were the last business the elves passed before choosing their craftsman and maidens, gathering their offerings, and leaving our village until the next year.
Daisy and I listened with bated breath as the parade grew closer, our drawings scattered around us like the crumpled leaves of autumn.