Chapter 2 Aisling #2
Magic was often used in different ways among Gearwickians, but even on her other visits to the midsummer market, Aisling never seen magic quite like Brook’s. The way the shadows had unfolded around her in broad daylight like that…
“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Brook’s perfectly straight smile went just a touch crooked. “I’m from a very old and traditional family.”
“Emberleigh or Dun Steorra?”
“Emberleigh.” Her smile straightened again, and this time her eyes crinkled at the corners.
That small alteration in expression struck Aisling as not only beautiful, but as Brook’s most candid expression yet.
Yes, Brook was a practiced flirt, but perhaps there was something more under the surface?
And Aisling wasn’t sure she’d ever met a self-professed wastrel before, which was interesting in itself.
However, it was now fully dark, and Aisling had to be up before the sun. “Well, Brook of Emberleigh, I should be getting back to my wagon.” She brushed off her skirt and tucked the soiled apron under her arm.
“May I walk with you?” Brook asked.
Aisling barely suppressed a nervous laugh. “If you like.”
They closed up the stall and started toward the path, dragging their feet. Brook wore tall, fine boots and leather trousers that fitted like a glove. Her build was thin, her face angular, though she had a few lovely curves for contrast.
“Tell me about Copperford,” Brook prompted.
“It’s… noisy,” Aisling admitted. “Noisier even than the market. All the clanging and crashing of Inventor’s Row multiplied by a hundred.”
“I’ve been to Gearwick, but none of your other cities.”
“Gearwick’s too big for me,” Aisling admitted. “Too many people. Nice to visit, but maybe not as a home.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Thankfully Emberleigh has lots of good, dark places to hide.”
“Not that you need them.”
“I really didn’t mean to scare you. Twice.” But Brook chuckled.
“Have you always had magic?” Aisling wondered.
Brook nodded. “It runs on both sides of the family, though sometimes it skips a few. I was never a very good study but I picked enough up ducking nannies and nurses to master that little disappearing trick.”
Nannies, nurses, fine leather clothes, golden earrings; Brook really was from an old traditional family. Probably a very noble one. And yet, she wasn’t stuffy. In fact, she made Aisling feel a little stuffy. Or at least stiff.
Brook said, “And you?”
“As much magic as that signpost.” Aisling pointed to one.
“I don’t know. You invented cloud cake. It tastes like magic.”
Aisling flushed and diverted her gaze to the path before them.
The smells around them had changed from the savory-and-sweet of the prepared food stalls to the hay-and-sunshine scent near the paddocks.
She always liked that smell as a child, when they traveled through farming villages or went out into the countryside to test some contraption.
Aisling let it ground her, trying not to say anything too foolish.
Not that an accomplished flirt like Brook wouldn’t know Aisling had far less experience. But Aisling still wanted to keep some dignity intact, thank you very much. She said, “If you’re looking for a free sample, you’ll have to get up early.” She even tried to throw in a side-eye for good measure.
“Oh, I never wake before midday,” Brook assured her.
“Then your flattery is in vain,” Aisling said.
“Is it?” Brook smiled as if she knew it was not.
Aisling couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re very good at this. Are you sure you don’t want to try the marriage market? I think you’d catch the biggest fish in the pond.”
“No doubt I would, but then they’d want to marry me.” Brook spread her fingers wide before her, as if to ward something off. “When all I really want is good conversation and maybe a drink.”
“Is that all?” Aisling raised an eyebrow.
“Would you like to have a drink with me and find out?”
“Bold!” She laughed. Aisling knew plenty of engineers, and the smarter they were, the more insufferably cocky they became. Hence, her family. But this was a new kind of cocky, one that made her want to laugh instead of scream.
Possibly because it was paired with the biggest, darkest pair of eyes Aisling had ever seen in her life.
“Do you like bold?” Brook asked seriously.
“I think I might.” Aisling turned right as they exited the market proper.
The camping grounds at the point were dotted with fires, glowing globes, lanterns, and other spots of brilliance that glistened in the river surrounding it.
No wonder she’d thought this place was magical, as a child.
“But not tonight. I have to be up early.”
“Ah, yes. Baking. By the way, is that a standard oven in Copperford?”
“No. I…” Aisling bit her lip to keep from smiling too hard. “Did you guess that I invented that, too?”
Brook shrugged, laughing. “It was worth a try.”
“I have a million ideas for how to improve it.”
“A secondary project to the bakery itself? Ambitious.”
“I don’t think there’s a bakery without the oven. But there’d be no oven if it wasn’t a bakery… so I don’t know,” Aisling admitted. “We’ll see how it does in the Innovation Awards.”
“You’ll take a prize,” Brook said easily. “And what will you do with the winnings?”
“Finally make my improvements. Magic infused tech is expensive. Especially when you care about quality.” Aisling snorted. Even for her parents, who worked with metals and magicians wholesale, it was quite the undertaking.
“Well, take the cooking competition, then you’ll have the funds to make your oven improvements.”
Aisling shook her head, sighing. “It’d take ‘til midwinter if I got the materials tomorrow.” Not to mention she’d need every bit of her earnings from the market—after her fee for the stall, the supplies, and the deliveries, of course—plus all the winnings she could manage if she wanted to do it right. And why bother doing it at all if not?
“But that is the plan, then? Use the market’s opportunities to make a better oven, use the better oven to make more incredible pastries, use the pastries to charm every elf in Everend blind?”
Aisling rolled her eyes but chuckled as they neared her wagon. She slowed and said, “I’m here.”
“Really? No drink?” Brook’s dark lower lip jutted out slightly.
“No.” Aisling licked her lips, trying not to stare at Brook’s. On impulse, she said, “If you come to the stall tomorrow, though, I might save you a special cake.”
Brook’s face lit up again, absolutely dazzling. “I wouldn’t miss it.”